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Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Blog Tour: The Josie Hawk Chronicles by Elle J Rossi






Alabaster Nights

The Josie Hawk Chronicles # 0.5

By- Elle J Rossi

Genre- Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance



A Vampire with a soul. A Huntress with a knife. In Nashville, Blood equals Power.  



Will one taste of Josie Hawk cost Keller everything?





 







Midnight Masque

The Josie Hawk Chronicles #0.6

By- Elle J Rossi

Genre- Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance



Nashville is the newest breeding ground for the darkest creatures of the occult. Huntress Josie Hawk will protect her streets—whatever it takes.



Bar owner and paranormal ass-kicker, Josie Hawk, is dealing with the stress of how to introduce her vampire lover to her vampire-hunting father. Meanwhile, the streets are buzzing with excitement over the announcement of a masquerade themed celebration with the up-and-coming stars of country music.



Josie and Keller are forced to abandon their trip into the secret world of hunters when a mysterious crew of cloaked beings emerge from the shadows and threaten to crash the biggest party of the year.



With the supernatural activity escalating to code red, Josie must find a way to stop the insidious evil hidden behind the array of masks. If she doesn’t, the masquerade party could turn into a mass funeral.

  






Indigo Dawn

The Josie Hawk Chronicles # 1

By- Elle J Rossi

Genre- Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance



Vampire Lust and Pixie Dust.



Josie Hawk is a Huntress. A killer devoted to protecting the humans of Nashville from the shadows that lurk in the night. But the shadows are gaining ground.



When an infamous pixie tricks Josie into a drug-induced nightmare, Josie envisions the death of her vampire lover, Keller O'Leary. Was the vision a threat ... maybe even a promise? But from whom?



Desperate to track down the source of the toxic psychedelic pixie dust, Josie kicks and punches her way toward the truth. But her efforts backfire, provoking a deadly attack at Wolfie’s—the bar Josie co-owns with her sister-in-arms, Sage.



Tag. You’re it.



Haunted by the threat to Keller, Josie scrambles to outwit her elusive opponent before the deadly game escalates and claims more lives. But in saving Nashville, will Josie lose those she loves?



Or will she be too late to stop the deadly game of tag?



  





About The Author-

Elle J Rossi is a writer of Dark Paranormal and Fantasy Romance. Overly fond of the happily ever after, Elle lets her characters take control as they lead her down dark and twisted paths on their haunting journey toward love.



When not writing, you'll more than likely catch her hanging with her husband, two kids and a cat who truly does rule the roost, or stealing the mic from her friends as the duel over country karaoke.



Links-










Excerpt:
I love this place. Not just Wofie’s, but this entire city. From the autographed memorabilia adorning the walls of this dark bar, to the Elvis impersonator on the corner of Broadway and Fourth, to the random guitar player on every other corner. Nope. This isn’t Vegas. It’s Nashville, baby. All the way. Music, lights, and really great people. My people. I took a vow to protect the innocent many years ago, and the only way I’ll break that promise is if I get myself killed. I’m not dead yet, at least half of me isn’t, though I’ve come close to total lights-out plenty of times.

Being Friday night, I stash my gear under the bar and take a deep breath, readying myself. Though there are only a few people in the bar now, within the hour the place will be packed and Wes and I will have our hands full. I pull my bright red hair into a low pony, and my eyes zero in on the stage again. A quick glance at the clock has me really pissed off that the band hasn’t shown up yet.
Normally, live music plays from noon to two a.m., with band changes every four hours or so. Just now, Alan Jackson is crooning from the overhead speakers and that’s just not good enough. The empty stage reminds me of a ghost town. The platform sits right next to the front door, placed there for space as well as attracting the people off the streets. The entire front wall of Wolfie’s, and every other bar in Nashville, consists of windows. Cheapest marketing out there. And another reason we keep the door open.

Unfortunately, the vamps in the area also consider an open door their invitation in. As long as they keep their fangs to themselves, I’m cool with them. Only once have I had to take someone out back, so to speak. One of us returned. The other? Let’s just say, ash happens and leave it at that.

Damn. I should know what’s up with the band, or lack thereof. I’m supposed to be in charge. Truth is, I’m part owner of this place. Sage Larson, my best friend and the nicest vampire you’ll ever come across, has the other fifty percent stake in Wolfie’s. I love that girl. It has nothing to do with the fact we’re practically mirror images—except she’s a skinny mini with dainty fangs and I’m . . . we’ll just say not so skinny and very unfanged. Our connection runs deep for many reasons, but mainly because I know I can trust her and—most importantly—she’ll never leave me.

Not to mention the fact that she forgave me for breaking her brother’s heart. Just thinking of Keller gives me the tingles. The good and bad kind. But that’s history, and history is where Keller will stay even though my body still craves his bite. Technically Sage and Keller aren’t related, but the same sire turned them, and their sibling bond is stronger than if they had shared a womb. Sometimes I’m jealous of their closeness. Most of the time, I’m just happy Sage has a brother who would do anything for her. Anything at all.

“Where’s the band, Wes?” He ignores me and continues stocking the beer cooler as I give him my angry laser stare, minus the laser.

“Wes!”

“Don’t know,” he says over his shoulder, not daring to make eye contact.

I guess he’s decided I won this particular battle. Yay, me. Having crashed for a solid day has me feeling a little lost in my own world. I can’t even remember which band I had scheduled to play tonight. Normally, those details are stored in my brain, which tends to be more organized than any notepad or computer system I’ve ever attempted to use. But not tonight. Even though I’d won, that last hunt really whooped my ass. My brain is throbbing just as much as my blasted ankle. I hate not being in prime condition. But I can’t let my ankle or a killer headache keep me from hunting tonight. I need to be on the streets.
Nasties certainly will be.

Which leads me back to my current issue. The fact that none of the band members have shown up yet gives me a queasy feeling. Musicians in this city are not only talented but very reliable. My instincts tell me something is wrong—like maybe they’re not here because they’re dead—but that could just be me trying to get my bearings back. The fog of sleep still has me under its spell. If I were full Huntress, I wouldn’t sleep at all. But since I’m half human, I need to refuel my energy every now and then.

No band equals loss of revenue. Big time. I close my eyes and lean back against the bar, propping my boot up on a low shelf. The need for more sleep threatens to pull me under, and if it wouldn’t smear my eyeliner, I’d rub the sandpaper from beneath my lids. Popping one eye open and then the other, I bite my lip as an idea takes form. I can fix this. I’ll just hook up the karaoke equipment. Wes’s newly shined bar is about to get boot-scuffed. Like peanut butter and jelly, karaoke and bar dancing are always better together.

I drop my boot to the floor and cringe as sparks of pain shoot up my leg. I transfer all my weight to my right foot. That shifter had really done a number when he’d sunk his canines into my leg. I smile to myself. He paid for it with his life. The smile quickly fades as dark thoughts creep in. Just because that particular beast is dead doesn’t mean the teenage boy he’d sold drugs to won’t find someone else to buy from. Another corner. Another dealer. Innocence forever gone with the purchase of one little package. I don’t like it. Not in my city. I plant both feet firmly on the ground and crack my neck. The next dealer will have to die, too. They all will. One by one.

I shake my head to clear the last bit of sleep fog and turn to the small crowd sitting in the back of the bar. “Karaoke in twenty. Who’s ready to show off their pipes?”

Aye, I’d like to,” a rumbling lilt answers in my ear. Goosebumps instantly cover every square inch of skin on my body. I know that voice. I feel his breath on my neck and I don’t know whether to run or fight.

Four deep breaths and several mental pep talks later, I turn to face a history that is doomed to repeat itself. “Hello, Keller.”

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