Author Override is the place where authors take the reins and take you on a journey into their world. Some may allow you into their private writing dens. Others may take you along with them on research trips or interviews. Whatever the case may be, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride because here you’ll get an in-depth look into an author’s musings.

EXCERPT

Brandon and Luciana meet for the first time in the Chiesa del Redentore, a Renaissance church in Venice…

***

Beneath the noise of the pigeons, angel and demoness circled each other, their steps striking on the marble floor.  Pivoting in sync as if partners in a choreographed dance, the energy of their bodies was as palpable as a magnetic force.  Opposite poles ruled by an invisible current, as highly charged as electricity.

The message, one to the other, was a challenge issued as plainly as a slap in the face: game on.

Physically, there was no question who would win.

He was well over six feet tall and all hard, lean muscle.  In the set of his body, she read the movements of a warrior.

Yet size was not the primary concern when it came to her hunting skills.  She had taken down bigger prey before.  Brigadiers, Marshals, Generals, Admirals.  Career soldiers often had the most vulnerable spots, if you knew where to push.  Oh, there was so much more at play than mere physical strength.

Luciana was an expert at seduction.  She had other weapons at her disposal, but temptation was her weapon of choice.  Centuries ago, she had mastered the one rule that all great seductresses, from Mata Hari to Madame de Pompadour, from Marlene Dietrich to Madonna, all knew.  To truly seduce a man, you can’t just grab him by the cazzo…the cock…  You’ve got to get inside his head.

The demoness scanned her opponent, assessing.  The energy radiating from him was raw and full of exuberance, but it was young energy that pulsed in the space between them.  But there was more than that.

Power.

That was what made her pause.

Power emanated from him, like the subtle scent of pheromones, tangible but sure, rising almost as visibly as the early morning mists that hung above the lagoon.  It was there, innate in his stride.  Built into his stance.  It had nothing to do with wealth or materiality, and everything to do with attitude.  A man could be as poor as a dirt farmer, yet still have power if he was his own man.

Yes, power.

Wherever he came from, whoever had sent him, this man had it.  But his power lay beyond mere physical strength.  There was a keen intellect behind his tough façade, those gray eyes sharp with latent intelligence.  But not with experience.

In human years, he might have been in his late twenties.

In the ways that counted, he was a mere infant.

“Barely a decade past your human expiration date, I’d guess,” she said.

She took a step sideways.  Across from her, he mirrored the movement.

Are you alone, or are there others? she wondered.

She goaded him a little, prompting.  “You’re what they sent after me?  Disappointing.  Where’s the rest of your Company of Assholes?”

He didn’t react, pacing toward her.  Didn’t need to say anything – his face said it all.  Do you really think I’d need help?

About the author:

Stephanie Chong worked as a lawyer at a top-tier Canadian firm and completed five university degrees before landing her dream job: romance novelist. Her degrees include a J.D. and a Ph.D. from the University of Toronto, and a Master’s in Creative Writing from Oxford University.

When she’s not writing, Stephanie enjoys yoga, traveling and outdoor adventures. She lives in Vancouver with her husband and their pug, Dexter.

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