Excerpt Reveal ‘Rising Ashes’ by Annie Anderson

‘Rising Ashes’ will be published on August 18th 2016. 

West Carmichael is not my real name.

It is the name I pulled from thin air over five hundred
years ago. I don’t come from royalty—I come from the dregs of the ethereal. As
the King’s assassin, I have more blood on my hands than most. I don’t deserve
her. I don’t deserve anyone.

But I will keep her safe.

Even if I die trying.

Evangeline Black.

My name sounds like the heroine of a historical romance
novel – not that I read those or anything. My life so far: Dead parents? Check.
Broken heart? Check. Evil mistress of darkness, hell-bent on power and thirsty
for my death? Big. Honking. Check. But this mess won’t get cleaned up by
itself.

I’ve got a job to do.

As these two reluctant hearts fight their pull, they must
decide if they want to fall apart in the midst of the chaos swarming around
them or yield to their hearts…

and rise.

This book can be pre-ordered on Amazon US, Amazon AU, Amazon CA, Amazon UK, iBooks and Kobo.

EVAN – 1928 – Los Angeles, CA

The first time I met West Carmichael, I was singing at a
speakeasy in Los Angeles. My parents didn’t know where I was, and for the first
time in a long time, neither did Aurelia. Hiding from a Seer is probably the
hardest thing I’ve ever done, but a special cloaking amulet from a witch friend
seemed to have worked wonders.

It was pretty. A sapphire the size of my thumbnail set in
a silver filigree setting hanging from a thin chain that rests just below my
collarbone. It wasn’t the nicest piece of jewelry I owned, but it was my
favorite.

Maybe because it granted my freedom.

Or maybe because it matched my royal blue silk charmeuse
gown to perfection. I used to hate dressing up, but this dress made me feel
like a woman. It was an off the shoulder number with a daring sweetheart
neckline – far ahead of its time. It fit like a second skin until it hit my
thighs and then flared out like a calla lily into a delicate but short train.
It may not have been the most comfortable dress I owned, but it made me feel
like a sexy siren. Something that with my diminutive height, I rarely felt.

I was alone – finally alone even in this sea of people– after
so much time with the ones I loved breathing down my neck. It was like a
vacation. I needed something of my own. A secret, a life, something to break
away from my family. Something that didn’t say princess or royalty.

Something that let me just be me. Singing was it for me.

I was ending my five-song set with a favorite of mine, an
old Jane Greene song when I saw him. I’d seen him around town a few times, when
I was shopping by myself or when I watched a boxing match at the Olympic
Auditorium, a scandalous activity for an unchaperoned young lady.

But we’d never met.

He was handsome. I even daresay beautiful, if you can
call a man like that beautiful. He was tall – taller than anyone in the room by
nearly a whole head –and built so powerfully he made the other men look like
pitiful adolescents dressed up in their daddy’s clothes. It was difficult to
tell if his hair was as dark as it seemed in the low light of the secret club,
but it appeared black in the dim. Dressed to the nines in a brilliant black suit,
he moved with grace through the crowd until he found his seat at the only open
table in the joint, folding his huge frame into the chair with the grace of a
jaguar.

Papa had taken me to Brazil when I was just a little
girl, and we saw the big cats roam the rainforests. He moved just like those
jungle cats, scanning the room for prey and threats, watching everything with
disinterest, as if he could take or leave the sights and sounds and people. As
if he were bored in this raucous party that seemed to never end.

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air
Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart,
but has lived all over the US and abroad.

As soon as the military stops moving her family around,
she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her
husband, two daughters, and old man of a dog.

For more information about Annie Anderson please visit
her website. Or visit her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google +, Amazon and Goodreads.