Dear Reader,
Iâm thrilled to share with you the third book in the SWEETBLOOD series, Tempted by Blood, Jackson and Ariannaâs story. The world is a deadly and seductive one, where a team of vampire Guardians fights to protect humans from Darkbloodsâvicious members of their race who kill like their ancestors and sell the blood on the vampire black market. The rarest, called Sweet, commands the highest price.
If youâve not read the first two books, donât worry. The Sweetblood world is new to Arianna, too, but as youâll find out, sheâs not new to it. The owner of Paranormalish, a blog that checks out paranormal happenings, sheâs learned to ask a lot of questions, dig beneath the surface and take a lot of pictures, which gets her into all sorts of trouble.
And thatâs where Jackson comes in. Heâs a charmer and a playboy, but heâs hiding a terrible secret. When heâs assigned to protect Arianna from Darkbloods, she ignites in him those dark cravings heâs been struggling to control. Tempting him as no other could, she awakens what he fears is the real enemyâthe one buried deep inside him.
This is a story about secretsâeveryone has them. But itâs what we do with them that matters ⦠because some are more dangerous than others.
Happy reading!
Laurie
Also available fromLaurie London
BONDED BY BLOOD
EMBRACED BY BLOOD
âENCHANTED BY BLOODâ
in A Vampire for Christmas
And stay tuned for an all-new, sizzlingly sexy
Sweetblood novel, coming soon:
SEDUCED BY BLOOD
To mom, for your endless love and encouragement,
and your incredible example.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, first of all, to my wonderful readers. A year ago when my first book came out, I was surprised and humbled that so many of you took the time out of your busy lives to contact me. Iâve loved âmeetingâ so many of you.
To the fun and sometimes zany online book bloggers and reviewers, thanks for your support and enthusiasm. Iâm continually amazed at your creativity, professionalism, dedication and love of the romance genre, particularly you rabid paranormal fans. You make it cool and exciting to be a reader and an author in this digital age.
To Becky, Mandy, Janna, Kandis, Kathy and Shelley, thank you so much. Iâd be adrift without you. Thank you to the Cherryplotters for the great ideas and for confirming when Iâm on the right track ⦠or not.
Thanks to my friends Julia, Eric and Marc, for tidbits that I twisted for my own evil purposes, and to Kevin, for help with a local urban legend that inspired a few of the details.
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Margo Lipschultz, for all your support and encouragement. You breathe life into my ideas and know just what needs to be done to make them better. Thank you to everyone at Nocturne>â¢, including the awesome digital team and art department, for all your behind-the-scenes work. Thanks to my agent, Emmanuelle Morgen, for believing in me.
To my husband, Ted, and my two âbabiesâ who are taller than me, thanks for putting up with crazy. I love you.
WHEN SHE SAW the number of vehicles parked in the second driveway on the left, Arianna Wells tensed and almost turned her car around. She hated having an audience for these things.
With her eyes forward, she drove past the house, then a dozen others in the neighborhood, and parked the old Cadillac under a streetlight around the corner. Out of habit, she scraped the wheel rims against the curb. Her father had loved this car and was so proud of himself when he gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday. Problem was, sheâd been nineteen at the time and heâd mixed up her birthday with one of his many ex-girlfriends. Adding a new scratch when she was frustrated or pissed off always made her feel better. She shoved the transmission into Park and it lurched into a rough idle.
She stretched her arm over the seat and peered out the back windshield. Maybe that wasnât the right place. All the houses had the same mirror-image design, painted one of three colors with identical rows of box hedges lining the walkways. Roads to the left and right led to similar cul-de-sacs. Everything was confusingly similar. Itâd be easy to turn down the wrong street and knock on the wrong door.
She pulled the address from the front pocket of her jeans and realized she still needed to change her shoes. Sheâd gone in to work today for an unscheduled meeting and hadnât thought about tonight until she was already at the office. Hopefully, she had a spare pair of boots in the trunk. If they went to the site of the disappearance, traipsing through wet bushes in flip-flops would really suck. From what sheâd learned about getting to the Devilâs Backbone, even wearing hiking boots, it wouldnât be easy.
She opened the folded scrap of paper: 4112 Maple Grove Avenue.
Yep, that was the right house. The one with all the cars.
She crumpled the scrap into a ball and threw it on the seat. Thanks to rush-hour traffic in Seattle, it had taken an extra hour to get here and she really didnât want to reschedule. The hems of her jeans were damp from running into the office and she was still chilled. She supposed she couldâve parked in her companyâs garage today, thus avoiding the rain and the wet sidewalks, but she didnât have a pass and paying forty bucks for a two-hour meeting was just wrong. She could have asked Carter, one of her coworkers, to hack into their buildingâs property-management company and print her a parking pass, but unlike him she had principles. Although on a day like today, she wished she didnât.