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Mar 19, 2016

Heart's Flame—Warin's War by Ann Gimpel

Covers & Excerpts
Heart's Flame
Warin’s War
Heart's Flame
by Ann Gimpel

Fae, Shifters, Magic
Warin's War
by Ann Gimpel

Fae, Shifters, Magic

Heart's Flame
Heart's Flame
by Ann Gimpel

Tumble into a world where magic won, but the price was high enough to annihilate almost everything—including love.

Life in a Were bordello is all Keira has ever known. None of the magicians’ guilds wanted her because of her mixed blood, and they didn’t protest when the Weres bound her as an indentured hooker. Mired in the hopelessness of her dreams, she longs for more.

Barrett’s a full-blood magic wielder who operates a magician supply shop in what’s left of Seattle. No one is more surprised than him when the Sidhe leader commands him to extricate Keira from the Weres. He knows her because she loves to while away time in his shop, but she’s always skittered away whenever he got too close. Too bad because she’s twenty shades of gorgeous.

Magic and intrigue throw Keira and Barrett together. Attraction ignites, burning white hot, but Keira has other priorities—like learning to control brand new magic she had no idea she possessed. Besides, Barrett is such a hunk of a man, surely he has lots of women stashed somewhere. He wants her too, has for a long time, but once he spirits her away from the Weres, his job is done. Far better to keep his distance and allow her to seize the destiny she was born for.

Except it’s not what he wants. Her, either. Can they bridge the gap between them before it’s too late?

Note: Originally published April 2013 by Liquid Silver Books as Dancing in the Flame. It has been newly edited.

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Content/Theme(s): Fae, Shifters, Magic, Werewolves
Release Date: March 16, 2016
Publisher: Dream Shadow Press

Excerpt, Warin's War & More

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Heart's Flame Excerpt:
Keira opened her door and peeked out into the long hallway spanning the first floor of Were Calls, the Were bordello where she lived and worked. Empty. Good. It was the middle of the afternoon, always a slow time. Her last customer had just left. Maybe, if she snuck out the rear door, she could claim a few hours of freedom. She ducked back into the room she shared with one of the other indentured hookers, donned a cloak and boots, and walked down the hall, making as little noise as possible.

The air was crisper than she’d expected as she eased the door shut behind her. Keira wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d brought a warmer coat. Most of her working clothes were wispy and suggestive. At least she’d been smart enough to put on tattered jeans, a moth-eaten sweater, and her favorite black cloak. For once it wasn’t raining. A pallid sun hung midway to the western horizon, bathing what were once busy urban streets with sallow light.

Keira emptied her mind, trying not to feel like she was playing hooky. It wasn’t as if the Weres kept her prisoner… She glanced at her left arm. Under the sweater and cape, she could’ve sworn the indenture bracelet spanning her upper arm tightened.

Who am I trying to kid? They can find me anytime they want.

She walked briskly through Seattle’s Queen Anne district. Keira had the streets to herself today, but then she usually did. Good thing too. Those like her, mixed-blood magic wielders with minimal power, were at pretty much everyone else’s mercy. Bottom of the New World totem pole.

She gazed over urban rot, some parts worse than others, and grimaced. Buildings still stood, a few of them, anyway. But most of the glass had been rocked out. Piles of trash blocked the roadways. Cars were a thing of the past. Out-of-control garbage had obliterated the sidewalks long ago. Paths wound through it, carved by varieties of magic wielders and prowling beasts. She made a point of ignoring what was underfoot. Most of it was too gross to even consider. It was a damned shame so many humans had been wiped out during the war. They’d taken care of things like garbage collection.

She pretended to consider what to do with her freedom, knowing her deliberations were a sham. She’d do the same thing she always did: head for Barrett’s magician’s shop. Housed in a cavernous Victorian on lower Capitol Hill, it was only about an hour’s walk from the Were bordello. With its dark wood furniture, Oriental carpets, and overflowing shelves, the shop exuded an irresistible, homey atmosphere.

Face it. The thing that makes it so enticing is Barrett.

Keira smiled to herself as she pictured the tall, broad-shouldered Daoine Sidhe with his thick, coppery hair and pale blue eyes. Beyond his obvious beauty, though, he seemed kind. Not that she’d ever exchanged more than a few words with him, but he had laugh lines in the corners of his eyes, and she’d watched him interact with other customers. He was always helpful, doing that little bit extra to assist someone find something. There was still bad blood among magic wielders, but not in Barrett’s shop. Everyone was granted equal status there. Never mind Daoine Sidhe magic was far more powerful than Were, Fae, or Witch. Druid magic barely counted; it was nearly as feeble as hers.

The first time she’d stumbled into Barrett’s shop, it was by accident. She’d gotten into a big blow up with Simon, one of the staff at Were Calls, for refusing to service a customer in his animal form. Simon slapped her, which was a big no-no. Punishment was supposed to be delivered through her bracelet per the terms of her indenture.

Keira had never seen Simon quite so angry, and she wasn’t inclined to wait around to see what he’d do next. Despite being in her hooker garb, including high heels, she’d raced out the door and ran until her arches ached. It hadn’t helped when the skies opened, and it began to pour. Not knowing what else to do—because she was not going back to Were Calls until things cooled down, or they zapped her through the bracelet—she opened her magic senses. They led her straight to Barrett’s shop. It was only a couple of blocks from where she’d stopped.

Keira had pushed the heavy, carved wooden door open, ready to bolt if anyone so much as looked cross-eyed at her. No one did. The shop smelled heavenly. Herbs. Lots of them. They hung in bundles from a raised walkway, ten feet off the ground, which accessed a partial second story. Feeling a bit braver, she let her gaze roam about the large room, crowded with shelves. No one paid her the slightest attention, which was amazing since all the other patrons were garbed in cloaks and coats. She glanced at her low-cut top, barely-there micro mini, and high heeled boots and winced. Her top didn’t leave much to the imagination since it was half-soaked through. Because she was cold, her nipples had pebbled into suggestive peaks.

Embarrassed, she skittered behind a bank of shelves and worked her way around the outside wall of the shop, appreciating being out of the weather. Her eyes widened at the variety of wares for sale. She lingered over things she couldn’t identify and hustled past things she wanted but could never afford. Along the way, she summoned a tiny bit of magic to help dry her clothes.

Keira recalled hearing the Weres talk about Barrett’s shop. It was the only place left that still sold magician’s accoutrements and supplies. Three-quarters of the way through her transit of the shop, a musical baritone voice caught her attention. She stopped and looked for its owner. He stood behind the counter, wrapping a package and counting out change. Because he was occupied, it seemed safe to let her attention linger on him.

What a beautiful man. When he patted a Witch’s hand before handing her the packet he’d wrapped, Keira wondered what those hands would feel like on her. The shop suddenly grew much warmer, and she bit back a laugh. Sex was plentiful in her life, no reason to moon over a man. Several would no doubt be waiting for her back at Were Calls.

She’d just decided to edge a bit closer to the counter, drawn by the Daoine Sidhe’s magnetism, when the bracelet on her arm tightened. Keira ignored it, but it only tightened more. She knew how the game worked. The Weres tracked her with electronics. Once she headed for Were Calls, the bracelet would leave her alone—as long as she kept moving. If she stopped for too long once they’d warned her, the next event would be a shock…
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Warin’s War
Warin's War
by Ann Gimpel

Tumble into deadly intrigue, scorching passion, and a thousand year old war.

Hybrids and full bloods became sworn enemies millennia ago.

A hybrid witch, a full blood warg, and a fairy make unlikely companions, but maybe that’s what it takes to save the world.

Gabrielle McCallaghan sucked it up and quit a job she hated to spare her uncle the embarrassment of firing her. With her bond fairy on her shoulder, she’s wandering through a crowded neighborhood contemplating her options when a full blood magic wielder makes a beeline right for her. Gabby’s hybrid witch magic is no match for his, so she tries to flee. The contest is laughable. Even in his human form, the wolf-man is far stronger than she—or the fairy—ever dreamed of being.

Warin is weary and disgusted with the long running war targeting hybrid mages. There’s a bigger picture, but his kin refuse to consider it. Since they won’t, his next stop is the Coven’s council. Maybe he can light a fire under the hybrids. He’s on his way there when an alluring witch crosses his path. Warin shifts strategies fast. If he can persuade one witch to his side, maybe others will see the light too.

With sex as a lure, Gabby is drawn into a deadly game of intrigue that started over a thousand years before. The stakes are high and the timing abysmal, but she falls in love in spite of herself. Can she and her full blood lover make a life for themselves? Or will the long-running battle between full bloods and hybrids pound their fragile bond to dust?

Note: Originally published in December 2012 by Liquid Silver Books as Gabrielle's Cauldron. It has been newly edited.

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Content/Theme(s): Fae, Shifters, Magic
Release Date: March 16, 2016
Publisher: Dream Shadow Press


Warin's War Purchase links: Amazon   ARe   iTunes   Kobo   B&N
Warin's War Excerpt:
“That wasn’t very smart,” she muttered to the pixie. “What am I going to do now?”

Doesn’t matter, I’m free.

“No, we’re free,” Amalia corrected. The pixie was clearly in mind-reading mode. “It hasn’t been any fun at all being your bond fairy ever since you took that job. All you’ve done is grump around, hating life.”

Gabrielle stared balefully at the pixie. “You need to keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Why?” Amalia settled on Gabrielle’s shoulder and crossed one leg over the other. She often perched there when Gabrielle went somewhere. The foot that dangled beat a tattoo against Gabby’s breast.

“Never mind.” It was wasted breath to urge the pixie to do anything but what she wanted. Gabrielle sucked in crisp autumn air and walked toward the bus stop. It felt good to be outside. Not living a lie anymore was a big relief. She’d struggled with guilt for months about her antipathy for Microsoft Excel, Turbo Tax, and Tax Cut.

At least that part was over.

Strangers swirled around her. Seattle’s Capitol Hill was always full of people. Gabrielle looked longingly at a Starbuck’s sign, but three dollar coffees weren’t part of her new austerity plan. Actually, neither was the bus. Walking home was a great idea. She had the time. And lower Queen Anne Hill wasn’t all that far away. She could be home in less than an hour.

What a joke. I have nothing but time now. Maybe if I walked more, I could get rid of some of this blubber.

She tugged at the too-tight waistband of her too-short dark green skirt. Sitting eight hours a day hadn’t improved her figure at all. Her height masked extra pounds, but she’d gained a good ten since she started working for her uncle.

“Don’t stare,” Amalia hissed, her sea-blue eyes wide with apprehension, “but that looks like trouble.”

The pixie always reverted to mind speech when she felt threatened. Good thing too. Her constant dialogue had gotten Gabrielle into trouble more than once when someone assumed she was the source of some smartass comment or other. Not all humans could hear pixies. It depended how much magic they had. The problem was when a person had no idea they had magic, but had been blessed—or cursed—with just enough to hear fairy chatter. Those folk were the ones who’d ended up in asylums a hundred years ago. Now doctors just crammed them full of mind-numbing drugs.

Gabrielle snapped her head up, scanning for what alerted Amalia. A hunk of a man who radiated power—wore it like an aura that screamed how much clout he had—strode down the opposite side of the street as if he owned the world. Hair so dark it held a midnight blue cast fell nearly to his waist. Well past six feet, he was dressed like a pirate in a cream-colored shirt with full, old-fashioned sleeves, a dark brown leather vest, and tight-fitting, black leather pants that left very little to the imagination. Knee-high boots of buff-colored suede fit over the pants. Apparently feeling her gaze on him, he slowed, his head turning from side to side. Gabrielle could’ve sworn he was scenting the air like a dog.

“What is he?” Gabby sent. “I know he’s a full blood, but what kind?” Because pixies were entirely magical just like the full bloods, they were often quicker on the uptake. Gabby was a hybrid, and her human blood often got in the way.

“Warg. He can see me, Gabby. Do something.” Amalia dug her nails into Gabby’s shoulder.

The pixie’s words barely registered when the man settled a wolfish, amber gaze on Gabrielle. That look—intense, smoky—bored into her. Heart racing, she ducked into the first shop she saw.

“Are you all right, miss?” A shopkeeper hurried over. Dyed red hair spiked into curls that fell past her shoulders. Her sharp, green eyes examined Gabby, no doubt judging her off-the-rack J.C. Penney’s clothes.

Gabrielle looked around and saw she’d entered a lingerie store, and a pricey one at that judging from the tags hanging off flimsy bits of silk. She tried to quiet her breathing.

“I’m fine. Just thought I’d look around a bit. I have a friend who’s, ah, getting married.” She offered up what she hoped was a convincing smile, reinforced by the tiniest leave me alone spell. The last thing she needed was for the salesclerk to boot her out of the store.

“There you are, darling.” A cultured baritone rang from the doorway. The voice had a definite German accent. “Nice of you to shop for something to entertain me.”

The warg moved to her side and slid a hand under her elbow. A blast of sexual energy ignited Gabby’s nerves, setting them on fire. Her nipples pebbled instantly, and her skin tingled with promise. Mostly so she wouldn’t throw herself into his arms, she took a step away and worked to settle her heart back into a normal rhythm. But the warg’s heat—and a delicious musky scent—followed her.

The shop girl’s eyes grew huge. She was practically salivating. Gabby could tell she was struggling to keep her gaze above the warg’s waist. “Welcome to my shop, sir,” she cooed. “We have things for men too.”

He raised a well-formed eyebrow. “Yes, dear. Your whole shop is actually for men.”

The clerk giggled nervously. “I meant we have underwear for men. Silk and Egyptian cotton. It’s in the back.” She pointed with one very long, manicured nail. “I could show you.” Her green eyes gleamed hotly. “I could even help you try things on.”

“Terribly kind of you, but not just now.”

Gabby tried edging away, but the warg snaked a hand out, snaring her wrist.

The clerk licked her lips in an overtly suggestive gesture. “I’m here from ten until seven every day, so if you change your mind—”

“Never fear, my sweet. You’ll be the first to know. Now run along.” He made shooing motions with one hand and, amazingly, the clerk stepped back a pace or two.

Gabby felt the warg probe her mind. She snatched her wrist back and summoned wards, but he defeated them as easily if they’d been made of paper mâché. She didn’t want to make a scene. A cardinal rule was to never reveal magic to mortals. The Coven—bastion of hybrid magic wielders like her—would punish her severely. And the pixie would tell on her. That was one of the purposes of the fairy bond: to keep Coven members honest—and invisible. She’d been given a choice at thirteen when her moon blood began to flow. She could’ve rejected her witch power and lived out her years as a human. But she’d picked magic, and the Coven bound her with ancient strictures—and the fairy.

She shot the warg a toothy smile that she hoped held a menacing edge. “I was shopping for Victoria. Remember, she and Jonah are getting married this weekend. And,” she glanced at her watch, “I just realized I’m late for my salon appointment.”

She slid past him, doing her damnedest to ignore the enticing scent oozing out of his pores. Vanilla mixed with musk. It made her want to drop everything and run her hands through that gorgeous hair. “See you later—darling.”

“Later will happen sooner than you think,” he called after her retreating form.
Warin's War Purchase links: Amazon   ARe   iTunes   Kobo   B&N

Other titles by Ann Gimpel:
To Love a
Marked by
Alphas in
the Wild
Edge of
Sext To Go
Vol 2
Find Ann Gimpel at:
Twitter: @AnnGimpel
Ann Gimpel Tsu page
Ann Gimpel Facebook page
Ann Gimpel Goodreads author page
Ann Gimpel Amazon author page
More Ann Gimpel on Cover Reveals

Be on the lookout for Ann Gimpel's future release(s): Alice's Alphas (re-release) coming late March 2016 and Megan's Mates coming April 2016

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  1. Thank you so much for hosting me, WAB! Hugs and many warm thoughts.

    1. Always enjoy featuring Ann Gimpel titles. Come back soon!


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