But,
when she discovers the body of a murdered shape shifter, Kailin has to come to
terms with the reality that her own kind are just as vulnerable as the humans.
The
closer Kailin gets to the killer the more she has to face the intricacies of
her people. When the time comes can she accept who and what her real purpose
is?
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EXCERPT
"Clutching
the phone, I whispered Anjelo's name into the device. The darned thing promptly
advised me to speak more clearly, its tone annoyingly authoritative, seeming to
laugh at me.
Damned machine.
Clearing my throat, I spoke his name again, this time restraining the urge to shout at the piece-of-crap phone.
Dial tone. Thank Ailuros.
"Kailin? What time is it?" Anjelo grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, grumpy and perplexed. He loved sleep, even more than his widely known love affair with Italian pasta. Nothing the school cafeteria supplied would ever tempt his taste buds. Anjelo had gourmet taste.
All he would've heard was my grunt of pain as I slid further to the floor, the phone suddenly too heavy to hold to my ear.
"Kailin, you okay?" His voice gurgled as if I were underwater—hollow, strange.
I took a deep breath and gripped the phone, pulling on every last dreg of energy, and said, "Sure. Shot. Bleeding. But okay."
My voice cracked on each syllable, and I barely heard his urgent request for my location. I scowled at the phone, again so heavy it began to pull my hand to the floor, inch by inch.
Why was he shouting at me? I could hear him perfectly.
I spoke with a false calm. "I'm at the center." Then I let the phone fall, unable to bear its incredible weight.
Scrambling. The knocking sounds of someone bumping into things in the dark. Muffled oaths, and then a slamming door.
Good. Anjelo's coming."
Damned machine.
Clearing my throat, I spoke his name again, this time restraining the urge to shout at the piece-of-crap phone.
Dial tone. Thank Ailuros.
"Kailin? What time is it?" Anjelo grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, grumpy and perplexed. He loved sleep, even more than his widely known love affair with Italian pasta. Nothing the school cafeteria supplied would ever tempt his taste buds. Anjelo had gourmet taste.
All he would've heard was my grunt of pain as I slid further to the floor, the phone suddenly too heavy to hold to my ear.
"Kailin, you okay?" His voice gurgled as if I were underwater—hollow, strange.
I took a deep breath and gripped the phone, pulling on every last dreg of energy, and said, "Sure. Shot. Bleeding. But okay."
My voice cracked on each syllable, and I barely heard his urgent request for my location. I scowled at the phone, again so heavy it began to pull my hand to the floor, inch by inch.
Why was he shouting at me? I could hear him perfectly.
I spoke with a false calm. "I'm at the center." Then I let the phone fall, unable to bear its incredible weight.
Scrambling. The knocking sounds of someone bumping into things in the dark. Muffled oaths, and then a slamming door.
Good. Anjelo's coming."
Non-stop, heart-pounding action, murder/mystery, a female shifter that kicks ass, and a sexy human cop...what more could you ask for?? Hmm...maybe one thing...MORE!!!
Skin Deep is one of those books that starts you off in trouble. Witness to a crime, and getting caught at that, you are thrown into a world you no nothing about. As the story progresses, you meet the characters, and get the lay of the land. The author did an amazing job on catching your attention right from the start. Skin Deep has plenty of action, story telling, and suspense that leaves you wanting more. There are still unanswered questions towards the end, but I am hoping that the next install has those answers.
I have been a writer from the time I was old enough to
recognise that reading was a doorway into my imagination. Poetry was my first
foray into the art of the written word. Books were my best friends, my escape,
my haven. I am essentially a recluse but this part of my personality is
impossible to practise given I have two teenage daughters, who are actually my
friends, my tea-makers, my confidantes… I am blessed with a husband who has
left me for golf. It’s a fair trade as I have left him for writing. We are both
passionate supporters of each other's loves – it works wonderfully…
My heart is currently broken in two. One half resides
in South Africa where my old roots still remain, and my heart still longs for
the endless beaches and the smell of moist soil after a summer downpour. My
love for Ma Afrika will never fade. The other half of me has been transplanted
to the Land of the Long White Cloud. The land of the Taniwha, beautiful Maraes,
and volcanoes. The land of green, pure beauty that truly inspires. And because
I am so torn between these two lands – I shall forever remain cross-eyed.
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