Saturday, March 2, 2013

{Spotlight & Giveaway} The Genesis (Blood of Ages #1) by K.L. Kerr

Hey everyone!

Welcome to my stop on The Genesis tour brought to you by Bewitching Book Tours. I have some awesome stuff for you today about the book and the author. There is also a very awesome excerpt from the book for you to read. The best part is that the author, K.L. Kerr is letting me giveaway a copy of the book! I love giveaways! So, be sure to enter the rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

Now, on to the good stuff. Have an enchanting day everyone!


About the Book

The Genesis (Blood of Ages #1)
by K. L. Kerr

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Penrefe Publications
ISBN: 0955984556
ASIN: B00999FXZ0
Number of pages: 314
Word Count: 100,000
Cover Artist: K. L. Kerr

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Book Description

The vampires of Dayson city are preparing for war. Having lived in constant fear of the Archway Corporation for decades, desperation has forced them into action. Their solution is to bring the First vampire, Alistair, back from the dead, a warrior famed for eradicating entire armies in the name of his kind.

For fledgling vampire Catrina Malinka, the fabled return of some unknown deity falls low on her list of concerns. Between fending off strangers trying to kill her in her dreams and trying to rein in an uncontrollable power that no one else even understands let alone shares, Catrina is forced to fight her assumed role in the war against Archway, which threatens to send her down a path she doesn’t want to travel.

The first book in The Blood of Ages series, “The Genesis” is an urban fantasy about the inescapable nature of Fate and the corruption of power.

Excerpt

Memories scattered out of reach like insects as Catrina woke in the lobby of a grand old house a few hundred years out of its time. She knew immediately that this was a dream, thinking with despair that these recent dreams lacked the familiarity she was used to. She usually dreamt of assignments past, of marks with bulging eyes and lolling tongues, of ceaseless gunfire and a trail of bodies, not of watery graves and old houses.
The house remained silent and still; it was like standing in an oil painting. Candles burned in tall candelabras, breezes sweeping their naked flames through the trio of corridors that all led back to the house’s heart. Despite their warm splashes of light, the candles did nothing to soothe; a cold chill in the air left her feeling unwelcome. The house's entrance doors loomed behind her, their heavy oak varnished to an immaculate sheen, not faded and dull like the rest of the furniture and fixtures. The brass handles wouldn’t turn, trapping her in an entire universe of locked doors and boarded windows. Gripped by panic, she twisted harder, and the doors groaned with an immense screech, akin to a ship’s hull bowing to tremendous pressure.
The noise brought new company, a man—at least, what she assumed was a man—dressed in a brown woollen robe that obscured his form entirely. While she couldn’t see his face through the shadows, the way he stood and tilted his hooded head showed his curiosity. Before she could even think to speak, a nearby crash shifted her gaze to the second man entering the lobby, who made a sudden, erratic approach.
Tall and skeletal, dressed in clothes considerably more extravagant than the first man’s woollen robe, the old man’s laboured, wheezing breath fell in time with each step. The difficulty he had merely standing upright didn’t detract from his presence. Intense blue eyes were framed by deep, dark circles sinking into his skin, which was no doubt once golden and sun-kissed but now hung ashen and sallow from protruding cheekbones.
“Silly spirit,” the man said softly, with a smile that twisted his long face. “You’ll kill us all.”
She couldn’t respond immediately. It was a challenge enough to brave his stare, as he towered over her, old clothes clinging from jutting bones like an extension of his skin.
“Who are you?” she asked eventually.
“My name is Aisen,” he said, the name hissing off his tongue. He bowed slightly. She fought the instinctive reaction to return the gesture. “And who might you be?”
He cast sharp eyes over her as though trying to look into her soul, and as the seconds passed, his smile dropped. Without warning, he hooked his thin fingers around her neck, lifting a cracked lip from grey gums in a rudimentary snarl.
She tore free and staggered away. His frustrated shriek shook the entire house to its foundation.
The first man intervened before Aisen could come at her again. The robed man shoved her into the doors. Instead of hitting them, she fell straight through as though they were not there. Before she had chance to thank the shadowy stranger for his daring, if not stupid, act of heroism, darkness embraced her with all the familiarity of a long-lost friend.

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About the Author
K.L. Kerr


Born and raised close to North York Moors, initial setting of American Werewolf in London, one might be excused for thinking K. L. Kerr's interests might lie with those furry beasts. But she has always preferred monsters of the fanged variety, having written the very first draft of her novel, The Genesis, aged sixteen.

When not writing, Kerr can be found playing the MMORPG, World of Warcraft, or listening to music from video game soundtracks. She still lives in the North of England, close to The Moors (keeping to the roads, naturally), with two cats who--like all cats--think they're people.

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