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Riya Sanobal,
a mostly-human rarity in her magical family, hides her heritage and
magical talent for doors in favor of her dance career. A rich arts
patron likes her work, and a visiting star likes her, but she's distracted by
vivid dreams of a sexy, Native American warrior who defeats cheating demons
and kisses like, well, a dream.
Time is
running out for disabled veteran Idrián Odair, the last dreamwalk warrior of
his hidden tribe, to protect his ancestral lands and find his partner. He met
her once in the space between the demon worlds and Earth, and now his
meddlesome grandfather's ghost insists he must find her in real life before
it's too late.
Unless Riya
and Idrián can find a way to trust each other and learn the secrets of
dreamwalk, Denver will become an all-you-can-eat buffet for a ravenous demon
horde. No pressure!
If you believe
that heart and character matter, that anyone can learn to dance, and that
death is just another door, you’ll love In Graves Below.
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EXCERPT:
Riya was so
overwhelmed she nearly burst into tears. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She’d been
so outraged that she’d nearly revealed her magic to zap that slime, St. Peters,
just to wipe the smug smile off his face, and then, when making her overly
dramatic—but very satisfying—grand exit, she’d smashed into an old man with a
cane.
Except he wasn’t
an old man, he was a dark-eyed, hard-bodied man with burn scars on his face and
whose touch set her body tingling in ways that she’d never felt and wanted more
of. Embarrassed, she pushed up to her hands and knees. “Are you okay?”
The man blinked
once. “Yes, I seem to be. What about you?” A hint of a Spanish accent colored
his consonants.
“I’m fine,
thanks to you being my cushion.” She scrambled to her feet and stepped back.
His left leg was bent at an impossible angle, and she panicked until she
realized it was a prosthesis that had come loose in their fall. “How can I help
you?” She’d learned from her volunteer sessions in rehab that each person had
his or her own way of recovering, and offering help was much better than
interfering with his process.
As the
dark-haired man sat up, his long hair drifted forward, and his western-style
shirt gaped open where the front snaps had come undone. The burn scars didn’t
disguise his beautifully muscled, very masculine chest. Riya flushed to realize
she was blatantly ogling him and tried to keep her eyes on his face as he
snapped his shirt closed. He was clearly Native American, and ruggedly
handsome, with a wide, generous mouth. His imposing, slightly crooked nose gave
his face character. His eyes were deep brown, almost black, with long lashes.
He was also a magic user of some sort, but she couldn’t tell what kind.
“Your bag is on
my foot,” he said.
“What?” She
looked where he was pointing. Her bag was evidently the reason his prosthesis
had come loose. She scooped up the offending bag and held it close to her
chest. “Sorry.”
“No harm done.”
He rolled up the loose leg of his jeans and, leaning forward, held his
prosthetic leg still while he pushed his sock-wrapped stump into it. The
prosthesis was a style she’d never seen before, with no connecting pin, and a
wire-form lower leg with an elegant, almost steampunk-style articulated ankle.
The athletic shoe encasing its foot looked prosaic by comparison. With the help
of his cane, he got to his feet, then bounced on the leg a couple of times to
seat his stump in the prosthesis.
He gave her a
lopsided smile. “I’m Idrián Odair.” His name sounded Spanish, with the accent
on the last syllable.
“Riya Sanobal.”
Her wayward sense of humor got the better of her. “Nice to run into you.” She
stuck her hand out.
His smile
widened as he shook her hand. “Unforgettable.”
For as long as
their skin touched, she felt deliciously energized, the exact opposite of when
she’d had to shake hands with the creepy Spencer Emerson the night before.
Which reminded her of the last twenty-four hours, and threatened to send her
thoughts down dark paths.
BIOGRAPHY
Carol Van Natta is an independent science fiction and
fantasy author. Works include the Central Galactic Concordance space opera
series—Overload Flux, Minder Rising, and
Pico’s Crush—and the retro science
fiction comedy, Hooray for Holopticon,
as well as In Graves Below, a Magic,
New Mexico paranormal romance novella. She shares her Fort Collins, CO home
with a sometime mad scientist and various cats. Any violation of the laws of
physics in her books is the fault of the cats, not the mad scientist.
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