by Linda Nightingale
Android Love Book 1
Androids, Second Chances
by Linda Nightingale
Sinners' Book 1
Vampires, Angels, Musicians
by Linda Nightingale
Android Love Book One
March Morgan still believes in true love, but her faith in finding her soul mate is slowly vanishing.She’s been married but never in love. So, it is a miracle to find that fantasy exists on the last page of a glossy women’s journal. Mayfair Electronics, Ltd., in black and white, offers Love for Sale. The London firm has engineered sentient androids indistinguishable from humans. She flies to England and meets the man she has been searching for her entire life.
Christian requires no programming to love March at first sight. He’s handsome, cultured…absolutely perfect…and a little different from the other androids. He has an unexpected independent streak. March signs on the dotted line, buying her dream man. They return to Houston, but soon her past and his future threaten their Happily Ever After—indeed their lives.
Genre: Sci Fi Romance
Content/Theme(s): Androids, Second Chances, Fantasy
Release Date: June 10, 2015
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Love For Sale Excerpt:
At a light touch on her shoulder, March spun. He stood inches from her, the airspace between them electric charged. “Liz was here, and in my bedroom! Why? Were you doing her in my bed?”
“No.” He had the decency to look stunned, his eyes widening and darkening. “She was teaching me to dance. The closet doors are mirrors.”
March resisted the urge to slap his perfect face. “Why? You aren’t going to be a stripper.”
He shrugged. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust her.” March’s face felt hard and cold. God, how she hated the emotions seething in her. She was almost physically ill.
“She cannot tempt me.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes glittering blue. “Don’t you understand I am attuned to you alone?”
“You weren’t supposed to be able to get angry.” She was unraveling, like a ball of yarn thrown across a room. “You did.”
Her heart shattered as he turned and walked away. Grief winded her. At the door, he glanced over his shoulder, again shaking his head. He was stunningly handsome, looked sad and hurt, but there was no apology in his intense gaze. Hands fisted at her sides, she tried to control the storm of fear, anger, resentment and pain.
“Where the hell are you going?” Her voice came brusque, short.
“For a walk to let you think and cool down.” Light and shadow chiseled his face, and her breaking heart skipped a beat. “I am not going to Liz. I have learned all I need to know from her. I shall never see her again.”
“You can’t walk out. It is impossible for you. You are faulty in some circuit somewhere. I’m going to return you.”
The most beautiful man in the world froze with his hand on the door. “Please don’t. This is a misunderstanding.” He blew out a long breath. “However, if that is what you want, I must advise you that Mayfair Electronics, 21 Dover Street, London, W1S 4LT will accept return of a flawed unit for a full refund.”
“Stop! You sound like a robot.” Her fisted hands struck the air.
He didn’t flinch. “I am a robot. That’s why this is an inane conversation.”
“Inane? I find you with another woman in the bedroom, and this conversation is silly? Oh, no, Christian. Did you invite her here?” Why couldn’t she stop hurting herself and let him go, lock the door and email Mayfair for a courier pickup?
Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the door. “She knocked. I answered and kept her outside until it started to rain. She was talking about the club and telling me, again, that I’d be a success as a male dancer. Being a success at something would be a bloody miracle. At any rate, half-jokingly, I asked her to teach me to dance. The End.”
“Not quite. Why did you slip her out behind my back?”
“I wished to avoid a scene like this.” His voice shaded deeper, darker. “And I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“There, it’s said. You can come back in now and stop pretending you’re leaving.” She waved a hand, half-heartedly beckoning. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
He inhaled sharply as if she had punched him in the stomach. “I’m quite aware of that fact. I do not like seeing you this upset. Please call Mayfair tomorrow. I’ll voluntarily deactivate. They will dispatch a FedEx pickup for me.”
She raked a hand through her hair. “Oh, my God, what have you done and why? What have I done? Paradise Lost.”
“Why can’t you trust me?” His sad expression pierced her heart.
Nearly human. Though he didn’t have a heart, his emotions could be damaged.
“Because I don’t trust men.” An angry sob caught in her throat. When she could again speak, she croaked, “In general. Well, almost. I learned that lesson at my mother’s knee.”
“I’m not even almost any man.” He lifted his hands in a pleading gesture. “Return me to Mayfair for reprogramming. I don’t care. I only want to stay with you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” she said in a lethal whisper, her voice then rising in outrage. “If I’d been earlier or later, would I have found you bucking in bed?”
Looking stricken, he stood silent and straight, a bare-chested god with ice blue eyes.
Love For Sale Purchase links: Amazon ARe Kobo B&N
by Linda Nightingale
Sinners' Book One
Morgan Gabriel D’Arcy is a classical pianist, an English lord and a vampire. He has everything except what he desires most—a woman he has loved from the day she was born—Isabeau.
For centuries, he has cherished a dream—a race of immortal crossbreeds possessing vampire strength and human morals. Ambition is not his most important motivation. Love is. When Isabeau, his chosen bride, was a child, he appeared to her as an angel and watched over her.
As the Angel Gabriel predicted, Isabeau is now a brilliant geneticist. She has come of age, and Morgan is determined to marry her. However, many forces oppose them, not the least of which is Vampyre law. The Vampyre are viral mutations produced by a blood-borne pathogen that alters human DNA. Mating between human and Vampyre is prohibited. The offspring—DarkeChildren—inherit a dangerous gene that drives them insane at puberty.
An enemy from Morgan’s distant past is stalking him. Paul d’Alembert seeks eye-for-an-eye justice, intending to kill Isabeau as once Morgan killed his beloved. In fact, his enemies are rapidly closing in on them. Will Morgan have time and an opportunity to make his dream come true—to sire a child on Isabeau? Will he outsmart his enemies, protect her and escape death himself? For the first time in eternity, the clock is ticking.
Note: This was originally published June 2013.
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Content/Theme(s): Vampires, Angels, Musicians, Geneticist, Sci Fi
Release Date: January 19, 2015
Publisher: Double Dragon eBooks
Sinner's Opera Excerpt:
For almost four hundred years, I’ve witnessed miracles of technology and the political wars that reshaped the world’s destiny. I’ve seen much to hate and a great deal worthy of forgiveness. I was born May 29, 1632, the only son of the Earl of St. Averil and his Lady Ilsabeth de Gueraint D’Arcy. He died at the Battle of Naseby fighting with Charles I. My mother died alone in 1685. By that time, an unnaturally long youth had forced me to fake my own death for the first time. I watched from afar, unable to attend her funeral.
Yesterday, I was a celebrated pianist. I learned my art on the harpsichord from an Austrian genius named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Later, I studied with Liszt, Ravel and Debussy. From the Duke of Newcastle then the Frenchman de la Gueriniere, I learned classical horsemanship.
Tonight, I am a wanted man. Mortal justice would hang me for a crime I did not commit. My brethren wish to destroy me for a crime I committed with willful intent.
It all began in December, a brief six months ago. Actually, my saga began in 1659 before the restoration of Charles II, but that’s another story…
This is our story—Isabeau’s and mine—our Folie à deux.
"Dear Lord," a woman called to heaven, "such a young man. So near death. What could have happened to you?"
My body was one long, cold ache, but a hot center throbbed in my chest. Wet and shivering, I craved only sleep and the blackness that held me.
Sirens wailed to a crash of thunder. Somewhere, someone was in trouble.
I drifted on the ebb and flow of pain until the woman gave me a gentle shake. Forcing my eyes open, I blinked to focus on the indistinct shapes materializing from fog. Rainbow angels battled demons in a stained glass window. Marble statues leered at me from the shadows. An ornate crucifix cast its silhouette on the ebony saint bent over me. Her countenance was round and full, her nose broad. Pity glistened in her dark eyes.
"You're awake." A smile trembled on her lips. "Thank you, Jesus."
She seemed to be in close communication with the man on the cross. My upper body rested on her lap, my legs stretched on a shiny wooden floor. Lush breasts cradled my head. Her red blouse smelled of fresh baked bread, the tiny pearl buttons mesmerizing.
"I do declare you had me worried; you been so still-like."
Her thick dialect called to me from the past, but I didn't know if it was yesterday or years ago. I don't know who I am. I frowned, trying to remember. A trill of music scrolled through my mind. The woman gave a tentative smile. I started to smile back, but the scent of fear distracted me. My clothes reeked of fear.
Another fragrance-dusky red and delicious-sent a shiver through me. The rich aroma of her blood appealed to me on levels I didn't understand. The sensation was raw hunger mingled with passion. Beyond the blood-scent, the musk of old wood and incense, the perfume of religion, summoned a vision of a blond boy in blue velvet and white lace kneeling at an altar. As I grasped at the memory, like a wave retreating from the shore, something important slipped away from me.
The woman's admiring gaze drifted over my face. I wanted to touch her, tell her how much...how very much...I ached to kiss her black satin throat, but when I tried to lift my hand nothing happened. Terrified, I glanced at my hands. The bleached fingers were curled into dead claws. The hands once considered magic and beautiful were horrible.
Panic drew my knees toward my chest. "Oh, God, my hands can't be paralyzed."
The blow was physical, knocking the breath from me. If I'd been struck blind, even deaf, I could still play, but if my hands were paralyzed-I was lost. Music was my beloved mistress. My piano alone stood between madness and me.
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Be on the lookout for Linda Nightingale's future release(s): Gambler’s Choice coming Fall 2015
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