Coven Enforcers
Blood and Magic, #1
Blood and Sorcery, #2
Blood and Illusion,
#3
by
Ann Gimpel
Coven Enforcers = Dark, Dangerous,
Magical Men
Coven Witches bow to no one—least of
all Enforcers.
Sparks ignite. Tempers run high.
Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....
Blood and Magic
Coven Enforcers, #1
by Ann Gimpel
Release Date: July 18th
2016
Publisher: Dream
Shadow Press
Genre: Romance, Historical,
Paranormal, Steampunk Edge
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . Blood
and Magic (Coven Enforcers, #1) . . .
Paranormal magic, romantic suspense,
long journey across the country, a child, a woman, a man, creatures of all
kinds. Put all these things together and you get yourself a fantastic read in historical,
paranormal, romance with some wraith like edge and fire.
One woman, Abigail, escorts one
child, Carolyn, encounters one enforcer, Luke along the tail to Utah. They all
encounter wraiths, wolves, and a host of other seedy characters/non-characters.
All this leads to suspicion on both parties’ sides and confusion on the actual
status of one child.
No freebies here. There was action,
adventure, suspense, magic, more sexy hot enforcers. The historical world of
magic, mages, wolves, wraiths, witches, enforcers, covens, all brought paranormal
levels to a high level of combustion. There was much to consume. There were
lots of elements to enjoy. The enforcers were the icing on all the cakes that
could be consumed. I got me a read to return to again. Now on to the next of the
series.
**This eBook was provided via Bewitching Book
Tours in exchange for an honest review.**
BLURB
Magic didn’t just find Luke Caulfield. It
chased him down, bludgeoned him, and has been dogging him ever since. Some
lessons are harder than others, but Luke embraces danger, upping the ante to
give it one better. An enforcer for the Coven, a large, established group of
witches, his latest assignment is playing bodyguard to the daughter of Coven
leaders.
Abigail Ruskin is chaperoning a spoiled
twelve-year-old from New York to her parents’ home in Utah Territory when Luke
gets on their stagecoach in Colorado. A powerful witch herself, Abigail senses
Luke’s magic, but has no idea what he’s doing on her stagecoach. Stuck between
the petulant child and Luke’s raw sexual energy, Abigail can’t wait for the
trip to end.
Unpleasant truths surface about the child.
While Abigail’s struggling with those, wraiths, wolves, and dark mages launch
an attack. Luke’s so attracted to Abigail, she’s almost all he can think about,
but he’s leery too. The child is just plain evil. Is Abigail in league with
her? It might explain the odd attack that took out their driver and one of
their horses. In over his head, he summons enforcer backup.
Will they help him save the woman he’s
falling in love with, or demand her immediate execution?
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…Cursing her long skirts and
cumbersome petticoats, Abigail used magic to skip the coach steps. Power blazed
from her hands before she could see what she was aiming at. She was afraid if
she took even a few seconds to hunt for a target, something would get her.
Being dead wasn’t desirable, but it was better than the other things wraiths
could do to her. Those turned her blood to ice chips.
With her booted feet planted firmly on
the ground, Abigail finally got a good look at the wraiths. She drew magic from
deep in the earth and sent it chasing after them when they jumped sideways to
evade her magic. Insubstantial as tall, thin puffs of smoke, they had glowing
charcoal eyes. Long, blood red claws graced what passed for hands. Binding
their victims with fiery strands was a favorite trick—just before they sucked
your soul right out of you, leaving a handy vessel for one of their masters to
occupy. Wraiths used to feed only on the living, making them into new wraiths.
They’d been bad enough then, but now they functioned as hired thugs for
practitioners of the Black Arts. It lent them the ability to operate in broad
daylight. Abigail wondered which group of sorcerers this crew worked for. The
Alchemical Council? Black Magick?
Good God but there were a lot of them.
Why? Surely they weren’t interested in the contents of the coach, which only
carried mail and Carolyn’s substantial luggage. Ducking and spinning to escape
being entwined in a blazing net, she thought about the girl’s steamer trunks.
Abigail only helped pack two of them. The third had been locked and ready to
go. Could that possibly be what the wraiths were after?
She shut off her thoughts so she could
focus. The ragged sound of her own panting thrummed loud in her ears as she
chucked one killing blow after another. Bolts of blue-white light flared from
both hands. No point in running anything less than wide open. For each wraith
she obliterated, three more showed up to take its place. Her chest ached from
breathing sooty air and wraith stench.
Heat seared her back. Damnation! Her
skirts were on fire. Abigail funneled magic behind her to quell the flames, but
it didn’t work. Smoke stung her nostrils. Fire had already eaten a long gouge
in one of her hands. If she dropped to the ground to deal with her burning
clothes, the wraiths would pounce. Terror licked at her along with the flames.
In spite of her brave thoughts
earlier, she didn’t want to die. Not here. And not like this. She cursed her
corset. It was hard to get a decent breath. If she’d known she was going to
have to fight—
“Keep after ’em,” Luke growled from
behind her. “I have your dress under control.” She felt him drape something
heavy around her shoulders—a lap robe he must’ve snatched from inside the
coach—and press it close against her with his body. Gratitude wrapped warm
tentacles around her. Having him right next to her made her already pounding
heart do flip-flops, but she forced herself to focus on something other than
all those rock-hard muscles jammed against her back.
“Are they all on this side of the
coach?” she wheezed, still struggling to breathe. Between the smoke, her stays,
and Luke’s body so near, it was a losing battle.
“Pretty much. Guess they want you more
than me. Actually, they’ve been trying to get to the trunks up top.”
A discordant warning note sounded in
the back of her mind. What the hell was in the girl’s luggage that would draw
wraiths? Her back wasn’t hot anymore, so she assumed the fire was out.
That fire, maybe. The one inside me is
just getting going…
She squirmed from more than the smoke
and struggled not to turn around and press the front of herself against Luke.
They had bigger problems than his undeniable charisma. Luke didn’t seem to be
in a hurry to move away, though. He remained front to back with her, and she
absorbed power flowing from him. Damn, but he was strong. What she wouldn’t
give for that kind of magic.
It would help if I could breathe…
With difficulty, Abigail forced her
mind away from Luke’s charms. “The driver?” She hadn’t been round to the front
of the wagon to check.
“Dead.”
“Ever driven one of these things?”
“Concentrate on killing, woman. If we
can’t get shut of the wraiths, ’twon’t matter a diddly damn.”
Blood and Sorcery
Coven Enforcers, #2
by Ann Gimpel
Release Date: August 1st
2016
Publisher: Dream
Shadow Press
Genre: Romance, Historical,
Paranormal, Steampunk Edge
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . Blood
and Sorcery (Coven Enforcers, #2) . . .
Did you say added some spice,
pepper, and maybe a little something else? Joshua had his heart’s desire within
his grasp, but of course that was too easy. Breana had been through the worst
life could offer a woman of her day. Loss of her freedom to her husband, a taste
of the darkside of magic, the corruption of her child, the loss of both her
husband (not so much) and her daughter. The acceptance that she deserves nothing
and no one. There was Something About
Mary (Breana) that had the males all up in a stir. There were two that
wanted her and would do what it took to have her by force or not.
Joshua has loved her for years. He
finally sees that he has the opportunity to have his most revenant desire. At
what cost would it be to have peace and love. There was action, action, and
more action. Sorcery was all over the place here. The wills were strong. The determination to
see it all through to the end. Done with magnificent action, thrilling adventures,
captivation danger and suspense, with a building romance and a psychotic sorcery
that wants what Joshua has. I had to turn the page to get to the next step.
Thus far this one tops book one and
carries on the action, suspense, magic, and creates a dramatic flair to the
danger as it builds intensity.
**This eBook was provided via Bewitching Book
Tours in exchange for an honest review.**
BLURB
Joshua committed his life to fighting Black
Magick. Not sure who he hates worse, dark sorcerers or the clerics who tortured
and mutilated his family, he lives on the road with his horse and his magic,
working as a Coven enforcer. Breana Giraud is the only woman he’s ever loved,
and until very recently she was married to someone else.
Breana’s husband, Don, sold his soul to the
devil, embracing dark practices. Along the way, he corrupted their daughter.
While Breana could’ve turned him in to Coven justice without a second thought,
she couldn’t bring herself to implicate her child. Still reeling from her
daughter’s death at the hands of evil, and grateful her husband met the vicious
end he deserved, she feels broken, damaged. The last thing on her mind is
falling in love.
Joshua tries to hold back, give Breana room
to mourn her losses, but if he has his way, she’ll become his wife. With Don
dead, and the path to his heart’s true love finally clear, he’ll do anything he
can to make her his. Even if it means fighting his way past the dark mages’
leader, who wants her for his own.
Salt Lake City, Utah Territory
Breana Giraud bolted upright in her
bed, the darkness around her shattering into fire-tinged motes of black. Heart
thudding hard against her chest, throat constricted with fear, she reached for
power, intent on shrouding herself in a protective spell. Goddamn her husband.
He was at it again. It was like him to wait until she was sleeping—and she had
to sleep sometime.
Once upon a time, she’d cared about
Don—a witch with power to match her own. But he’d been seduced by the dark and
become deeply entrenched in Black Magick. Shielding herself against him drained
her, but she didn’t have any choice. Sucking air around the narrow place that
used to be her throat, she sent magic spiraling outward. She didn’t sense him
near, but the enchantment that just dragged her from a sound sleep had Don’s name—and
sliminess—stamped all over it.
Her eyes snapped open. Don was dead.
Dead.
What the hell was happening to her?
He couldn’t harm her anymore, so why
was his stench all over the room? It wasn’t even the bedroom they’d shared.
She’d moved to the far end of the hall to escape the horrible memories that
swamped her every time she thought about him.
Guess that didn’t work very well.
She pressed her tongue hard against
her teeth and reached for her magic again. Surely she could summon a mage
light. Simplest of spells, it required almost nothing in the way of power.
Finally, after she was shaking and sweating with effort, a wavery blue light
formed, casting the bedroom in eerie shadows. Breana urged her light to burn
hotter, brighter. Her teeth were chattering, and she felt as if she’d never be
warm again. Icy sweat dripped down her sides.
She tugged the heavy, wool blanket
around her shuddering form, but it didn’t help so she dragged air hard into
lungs that had nearly forgotten how to cooperate. And then did it again. And
again, until she was able to clamp her jaws in a harsh, desperate line.
Her light flickered and brightened,
and the ball of fear making it hard to breathe eased the slightest bit. Falling
back asleep was laughable, so she dug her way out from under the covers and
pulled a robe woven from soft, cream-colored wool over her linen nightdress.
Sheepskin slippers came next.
At least the godawful chill that had
permeated the air was dissipating, and the reek of evil along with it.
Brimstone held a sulfur taint that burned the back of her throat and made her
skin prickle with a million points of discomfort.
She blinked back tears as she made her
way downstairs, her mage light bouncing over one shoulder. The dark had taken
both her husband and her daughter, and robbed her of what had once been a warm
and comfortable marriage. She hated Black Magick with a passion. Hated what it
had almost done to her as she walked a tightrope between her husband’s demands
and her responsibility to the Coven.
“Yeah, and I did a shitty job all the
way round,” she muttered as she poured a cup of tepid coffee into a mug. It was
bitter as all get out from sitting on the back of the woodstove since early the
previous morning, but she gulped it down anyway, wanting the quick stimulation.
Too keyed up to sit, she wandered to a
window and looked to the east. Dawn wasn’t far off, but the horizon was still
dark. Days were growing longer, but it was still winter, and it might not get
light until seven. She’d sent a meticulous letter to Coven headquarters in New
York. Within it, she detailed her sins in not turning her husband and daughter
over to Coven justice—once she fully understood their allegiance had shifted to
dark power.
That letter had certainly arrived by
now.
What would they do to her?
A snort of derision curled her mouth
into a bitter smile. She knew what she’d do to someone in her position. Banish
them from the Coven for starters. After that, it would be anyone’s guess, but
the Coven wouldn’t be out of line demanding her life as punishment for
shielding her family from what they deserved.
Not much she could do. About any of
it. No. She needed to keep going, day by day, and let the wheel spin as it
would. She’d find out soon enough. Certainly by this coming summer when most—if
not all—of the Coven had relocated to Utah Territory. At least she’d given Luke
and Abigail a good start by marrying them. Memories of that day—and their
joy—kept her going through the hardest spots.
She plodded back to the stove and
poured the last of the coffee into her cup before she opened the woodstove door
and sent a jot of magic to stir the embers. Once they crackled merrily, she
added chunks of wood and refilled the kettle on the back of the stove with
water from the pump next to the sink. The chores were automatic, and they
settled her nerves enough to dissect what had driven her awake.
Coven enforcers, a group of
hard-bodied, sharp-eyed men, who kept witches on the straight and narrow, had
seen to it that both Don and her daughter, Carolyn, met their end in mage fire,
purging their souls of darkness. And they’d killed Alistair MacDuff, head of
the Alchemical Council. She and Abigail had seen to the death of Alistair’s
henchman before he, too, was dumped in the purification of mage fire.
“Guess we didn’t get them all,” she
muttered as she ground coffee beans with a mortar and pestle.
“If them refers to who I think it
does,” Joshua drawled from the kitchen doorway, “of course they’re not all
dead. That fresh coffee I smell?”
Breana curved her mouth into a soft
smile. “You know damn good and well it is. I drank the dregs from yesterday
morning. Hang on till the water boils, and I’ll brew a fresh pot.”
“Don’t rush. I got time.” Joshua moved
closer to the stove, extending his hands toward its warmth. Tight-fitting,
buff-colored leathers, similar to what most Coven enforcers wore, hugged him
like a second skin. Flame red hair hung loose to the middle of his back.
Breana turned to face him squarely and
crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Looks as if you got up in a hurry. Your
hair’s not braided.”
Blood
and Illusion
Coven Enforcers, #3
by Ann Gimpel
Release Date: August
22nd 2016
Publisher: Dream
Shadow Press
Genre: Romance, Historical,
Paranormal, Steampunk Edge
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . Blood
and Illusion (Coven Enforcers, #3) . . .
Extraordinary paranormal activity
that lights up the western skies and the prairie along the way. This times its
Sam’s turn to find what he has only found in the service of the Coven as
enforcer. This time he rides to the rescue of a high spirited, outspoken, fierce
witch with much to protect. Isla and her fellow sisters are in desperate need
of protection for the evil of black magic moving in and taking over things. Escorting this group of equally spirited, feisty
witches proves to be a task to beat all others. As the journey proceed forward
Isla and Sam has to find a way to make things work. Everyone wants to make it
to safety, safe and in one piece.
The journey brings danger, hidden
mishaps, strange beings, and obstacles at every turn. Something has to give to
make the journey go smoother and make things safer for all involved. Isla and Sam have their hands full with each
other and working to get cooperation. The drama intensifies. The danger electrifies.
The action, adventure, and suspense keeps the pages turning.
I found that Sam and Isla were a
match that was destine to be drawn together. The spitfire of Isla drew Sam in
and he thought he would be taming her, claiming her, and making her his. I will
give him two of three. Gimpel made this an adventurous series and each one
built upon the one before making the reads flow into each other. While at the same
time leaving you wanted more and them more again. I do hope that with the
re-release of this series that there will be more coming. There are other hot
enforcers searching for his other half that will make him more.
**This eBook was provided via Bewitching Book
Tours in exchange for an honest review.**
BLURB
Not all witches join the Coven. Fiercely
independent, Isla heads up her own small band in the San Francisco area. She’s
never needed help before, but dark sorcerers drive her and her group into
hiding, trapping them.
Sam’s worked for the Coven as one of their
enforcers forever. He’s been there so long, the Coven is the only mistress he knows.
It’s a lonely life on the road thwarting wickedness and Black Magick with his
guns, his magic, and his horse, but it’s been enough to satisfy him. Until now.
A group of witches is in deep trouble.
They’re not part of the Coven, but Sam is sworn to protect all witches and he
rides to their assistance with several of his brothers. Nothing prepares him
for the outspoken spitfire who ends up riding double with him. She’s
forthright, opinionated, and downright hostile, but he’s drawn to her
self-sufficiency—and her undeniable beauty. Soon, Isla is all he can think
about.
Dark forces are on the move. Protecting the
woman he’s falling in love with is at the very top of Sam’s list. If they
manage to survive, he’ll tame her. Claim her. Make her his.
…Isla huddled with six other witches
in a basement beneath one of the warehouses lining San Francisco’s docks. Her
hair hung in filthy strands. Grime caked beneath her nails, and she stank, but
at least she was alive. Russian sorcerers—or at least sorcerers who spoke
Russian—had killed four of her sisters before she’d dragged the rest of their
small band to a defensible position and swathed them in layers and layers of
magic.
It had been a short-term solution, but
they hadn’t had any choice. Not really. Only problem was they had no easy way
out. If they dismantled their spell, the sorcerers would find them in a trice.
If they remained where they were, eventually they’d starve to death. She was
far weaker than she’d been a week ago when they’d barricaded themselves into
the underground room with its dirt floor and dirt walls. Small cutouts high on
two walls coincided with ground level, and provided their only source of light.
In desperation, she’d used her power
stone to call Hester Thorne, a witch who’d been instrumental drawing their
group into a cohesive unit. Hester promised help, but it had yet to
materialize. Breath steamed through Isla’s teeth as she bent forward and
stirred the shallow pool she’d created from a broken pot made of crockery and
water dripping down the walls. It took a while, but the water had finally grown
deep enough to become a scrying instrument.
Weariness dogged her, and her vision
blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing them to focus next time she dragged
her lids open. Thinking it might help, she pushed herself upright and walked
around the six- by ten-foot room.
“What are you doing?” Kat eyed her
balefully out of bloodshot blue eyes. “I was asleep.” Dirty blonde hair had
been braided to keep it out of the way.
“Aye, and ye’ll be asleep permanently
if ye’re not careful,” Isla shot back, the brogue from her native Scotland
thicker than usual. It was one of the reasons she and Hester had bonded so
tightly. Shared roots from Scotland’s Highlands and islands.
“Isla! Come look at your pool!” Rowan
cried. Silver hair fell about her, dragging in the dirt, but her brown eyes
were lit with hope.
Isla skidded to her knees and stared
at the water’s surface. Nine men strutted down the rock-strewn sand fronting
the ocean. Tall, rangy, hard-bodied and clad in leathers, it was obvious they
were used to ruling the world. At first she thought they were a new passel of
sorcerers, but she forced herself to look closer.
Not trusting her first take, she took
a ragged breath. Maybe she wished for salvation from the room that was likely
to become their crypt so desperately, she was imagining things, “What does it
look like to you?” she asked Rowan.
The other woman turned to face her.
“Help. That’s what it looks like. Those men are bleeding power, and it’s the
good kind.”
The other women skittered across the
floor, jostling one another to get close to the pool so they could see.
“Be careful!” Isla cautioned. “Else
ye’ll tip the dish, and we might not live long enough for me to refill it.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs as
she took in the men. One of them in particular caught her attention and held
it. Long, blond hair spilled across his shoulders, and his eyes were a bright,
turquoise blue. Strong bones carved his cheekbones into bas-relief, and his jaw
was square, determined. Buff colored leathers covered him, and they were
skintight, leaving virtually nothing to her imagination. Broad shoulders led to
deeply muscled arms and narrow hips with a high, tight ass. Long legs disappeared
into boots that laced to his knees.
Her throat grew dry. Many a year had
passed since she’d experienced such an immediate reaction to a man, and it
confused her.
Must be because I’m half-staved.
Och aye, and ye know better, the other
half of her brain inserted dryly. Whoever he was, he was one gorgeous man.
Understanding slammed into her, and
she was ashamed she hadn’t put two and two together immediately. “They must be
the aid Hester promised.” She glanced at the other women.
Rowan lurched upright. “If that’s
true, then we need to go outside and help them.”
Isla licked her chapped lips. “They’re
not looking as if they need any help, but at least that way they won’t have to
hunt for us, and mayhap we can leave this accursed place.”
“You’re the one with the strongest
magic,” Kat pointed out. “And the only one who can project telepathy beyond the
enchantment hiding us. See if they answer.”
Isla exhaled sharply. It was a
reasonable suggestion, but not without risk. If she was wrong, and those men
were actually allied with the dark, she’d have given away their position.
Opened them to a certain death. Or worse, imprisonment at the hands of evil.
“I was in your mind,” Rowan said, her
voice surprisingly gentle. “We’re as good as dead now. I say we chance it.”
“I was coming around to the same
conclusion.” Isla breathed deeply to center herself and drew out her pink
moonstone. Before she could think things to death, and her courage failed
utterly, she linked to the stone and sent her magic thrumming outward. No need
to make things fancy, so she settled on the shortest phrase imaginable.
“Are ye who Hester sent?”
Depending on the answer, she’d ask for
proof and take things from there.
Author Info
Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author.
A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a
few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of
webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to
paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients, now she nurtures
dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality. When she’s not
writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with her camera. She’s
published over 30 books to date, with several more planned for 2016 and beyond.
A husband, grown children, grandchildren and wolf hybrids round out her family.
Author Links
Thanks so much for inviting me back to your blog, and for
an interesting topic for a guest post.
What’s the
Attraction to Paranormal?
I can only answer that question for myself. Since my
writing roots are in science fiction and fantasy, the jump into romance just
had to include some paranormal elements. I’ve never been a huge vampire fan,
and zombies creep me out. Even absent those two, there are still a host of
paranormal characters left. I sort of settled into a niche with shifters of
various persuasions, Celtic gods, and Norse gods. Selkies even made a cameo
appearance in a couple of my books.
In romance, the beauty of shifter males is they can be
very “alpha-ish” because I borrow from their animal energy to make them
courageous, strong, quick, protective, and intensely loyal. Nothing quite like
a hero who would lay down his life protecting the heroine.
That being said, I like kickass women in my books, too.
No shrinking violets for me. Maybe because I grew up in an era when women
mostly stayed home and raised kids, I like my female characters to be gutsy, to
take the guy’s gambits, and give him one better. So lots of my female leads are
shifters, too. The ones who aren’t are witches, or dragon bond mates, or linked
to wolves.
The other day, one of my author pals posted in Facebook
that she was temporarily shelving her paranormal series and going back to
writing contemporary romance. It didn’t even take twenty-four hours before her
next post, which basically said, “Well, hey, that didn’t work. I’m back to
writing paranormal.” When I asked her about it privately, she said the plot
lines are just so much richer in paranormal books.
I absolutely agree with her. When characters have
supernatural abilities, it throws possible plot directions wide open. On my
whimsical days, I see myself as writing romantic fairy tales for grownups. And
I suppose on some level, that’s what I do. There’s been a trend in some modern
stories, including paranormal ones, to have nasty, mean heroes and sad, weepy,
abused heroines. Unfortunately, they’re just as damaged at the end of the book
as they were during the opening scenes. While this is probably pretty accurate,
since most of us don’t get personality transplants, nonetheless, I read for pleasure.
If I want to read something that tugs my heartstrings,
I’ll read true life adventure mountain climbing tales. People die in those
books. They simply drop into an abyss, leaving their climbing partners with a
great deal of guilt, and the need to memorialize what happened by writing a
book. But you know what? For the most part, climbers treat one another with a
great deal of dignity and respect. While it’s hard to read about death in the
high places of the world, it’s not nearly as hard for me as reading fiction
where the characters have zip in the way of redeeming qualities.
Boy, I really got off on a tangent there. Let me close
the loop. For my paranormal characters, I suppose I could focus on their
destructiveness, but I always infuse compassion into them, and the ability to
give and receive love. After all, that’s what romance writing is all about. I
want my readers to care about what happens to the characters in my books, so
that HEA means something.
How about the rest of you? What are your tastes and
preferences for pleasure reading? I’d love to know.
Author Links
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