SERIES BLURB:
In a world fraught with demons threatening to destroy humankind, a company of demon hunters will risk everything to save the world.
ASCENSION
When demon hunters threaten London, even ladies must answer the call…
Lord Gabriel Thurston returns home from war to find his fiancée much changed. She’s grown from a sweet girl into a mysterious woman who guards her dark secrets well. When he sees her sneaking away from a ball, he’s convinced it’s for a lover’s rendezvous. Following her to London’s slums, Gabriel watches in horror as his fiancée ruthlessly slays a man.
Lady Belinda Clayton’s only concern was her dress for the next ball—until demons nearly killed her, and a group of Demon Hunters saved her life. Now, a lady by day, and a demon hunter by night, she knows where her duty lies. Ending her betrothal is the best way to protect Gabriel from death at a demon’s hands.
Gabriel soon realizes, like him, Belinda has been fighting for her country. He joins in the fight, determined to show her that their love can endure—even at the gates of Hell.
DECEPTION
When Demons threaten Regency London, only a Lady can stop them…
Lillian Dellacourt is beautiful, refined and absolutely lethal. She’s also the most feared and merciless demon hunter in The Company. She’s come a long way from the penniless seamstress’s daughter sold to the highest bidder, and it wasn’t by trusting a man, let alone an exiled Marquis with more on his mind than slaying the hellspawn…
For Dorian Lambert, Marquis de Montalembert, being sent to keep track of Lillian is no mean task. He’s wanted the fiery vixen since he first heard of her five years ago. But wooing the lady while fighting the demon uprising is difficult, especially when the lady’s tongue is as sharp as the Japanese sai blades she favors the hunt.
These two will have to learn to trust each other fast, because the demon master is back, and he’s planning to turn Edinburgh into a living hell…
BETRAYAL
In service to His Majesty, one must be prepared for Hell.
To survive as a scullery maid requires hard work, discipline, and a stiff upper lip. To survive as a demon hunter is something else entirely. Elizabeth Smyth learned this after she was captured by Demons and rescued by hunters. Now a hunter herself, Elizabeth’s first task in this new and strange world is to aid the recently wounded Reece Foxjohn, and get him back into Demon-slaying shape. . .
Reece Foxjohn is used to defying convention. He enraged his family by becoming a demon hunter, and prefers eviscerating demons to mixing with society. He is a man who doesn’t hesitate when he knows what he wants, and what he wants is Miss Elizabeth Smyth. To watch her behead the progeny of Evil is to behold a thing of beauty—one he must claim for his at all costs.
DEFIANCE
The Demon Hunters are about to face their biggest test, and they’ll need a lady to make the grade…
Lady Serena Thurston had big plans—attend the best balls, meet a fine gentleman, get married, have a child or two and live happily ever after. But plans change. Serena knows firsthand what demons can do, and nothing will stand in the way of her goal to become a Demon Hunter—not even her absentee fiancé.
Tad Douglass is furious his fiancée has enrolled in the Demon Hunters’ school. Admittedly, he should have been more attentive after her capture by demons, but important Hunter business demanded his presence. Now, he’s forced to watch her transformation from an innocent young woman to a formidable Hunter. He’ll use every resource at his disposal to change her mind and return her to the simple life of a debutante.
When people go missing in London, Serena and Tad must investigate—together. The mistrust and love simmering between them during their perilous mission is brought to a boil at the gateway to Hell. With the lines between good and evil blurred, and death lurking at every turn, it will take a leap of faith to embrace this new partnership—as heroes and as lovers.
PRAISE
5.0 out of 5 stars Wonderful Series Start
Reviewed in the United States on April 13, 2021
“Fenichel weaves a fascinating and sensual tale. The heroine, Belinda, is no dainty flower, and our hero, Gabriel, is more than a dashing rake. Their love grows deeper as the stakes become dangerous with the threat of a growing demon population and a sinister mystery, luring the reader deeper into the story…” – Amazon Reviewer (Ascension)
“This was an amazing book and I can’t wait to dive into the last book in the series. Ms. Fenichel you have outdone yourself and this is one heck of a read.” – Amazon Reader (Deception)
“A.S. Fenichel knows just how to write the perfect book. This has got to be the best series that I’ve read in a while. Taking historical romance and adding the paranormal element was pure genius. I couldn’t read these books quickly enough, but I made sure that I didn’t miss a word. ” – Amazon Reader (Betrayal)
Pushing the gate closed, the rough, cold metal scratched her gloved
palm. Once the latch was secured, she ran her finger along the jagged
tear in her left glove. “Too bad,” she said. She shook her head at the
ruined garment. “I really did like this pair.”
“What pair is that, Lady Belinda?” Gabriel’s deep, seductive voice cut
through the still night.
His blue eyes were the color of the sea just before a storm and their
depths burned into her.
Her stomach did a flip before she had time to control herself. She was
sure she looked flustered and she could have kicked herself for not
steeling her nerves before facing Lord Gabriel Thurston, the Earl of
Tullering.
“Tullering, what on earth are you doing in my garden in the middle of
the night?” The sound of cold detachment in her voice gave her
satisfaction.
“One might ask you the same question, Lady Belinda.” He ran his hand
through his dark hair, loosening it from the ribbon. His cravat had come
open and his evening clothes were crushed. There was something dangerous
about an unkempt Gabriel. The gesture was a sign of frustration from the
earl. She’d seen it many times.
Her heart raced and she swallowed the panic welling in her gut. “This
is my home, my lord. You do not live here. If I am not mistaken you have
a home in London where you should be at this late hour.”
“You are my fiancée.” Even in the moonlight, his face and neck burned
red.
“There is no need to remind me.”
He stepped from the terrace onto the cobbled path where she stood.
Looming over her his scent filled the air with a mixture of soap, spice
and something else male and formidable. The scent was intrinsically
Gabriel and entirely delicious.
She was tempted to back away, but forced herself to hold her ground.
Her stubbornness did not stop her heart from racing or her skin from
tingling at his nearness.
“Oh, but I think there is a need.” He circled behind her, his mouth
inches from her ear.
She set her teeth. “I am well aware of the contract signed between you
and my father four years ago, my lord. I was there when it was signed,
and I was also there when you left for the continent.”
The day he left for the war came flooding back, and so did the memories
of her unanswered letters, and the tears she had cried over him. Well,
there would be no tears tonight.
“You are angry with me for fighting for our country?” He took a step
back.
“No.”
“But you are angry.”
“You might have written since your concern for our relationship is so
evident.” She’d wanted to sound flippant, but she sounded brooding.
She’d been hurt by his silence, and had little hope of hiding the
fact.
“I wrote,” he said.
She was pleased the subject had changed to something more defensible.
“Three letters in four years can hardly be considered correspondence, my
lord.”
“You use to call me Gabriel,” he murmured.
She stepped away in spite of the pleasant shiver his voice produced.
“That was a long time ago.” Lifting her skirts, she climbed the terrace
steps away from him.
“There is still the question of why my fiancée is sneaking through the
garden at four in the morning.”
She turned ready to blast him about having no right to ask her
anything. Her words stuck in her throat.
In the full moonlight, he took her breath away. He was tall and broad
and his hair hung loose around his face.
In spite of her anger, she wanted desperately to touch his hair and see
if it was still as soft as it looked. “I come and go as I
please.”
“So I see,” he said. “Perhaps then, you would be willing to explain why
your dress is six inches deep with mud, why your hair looks as if you’ve
been tossing in the sheets, how you got that smudge of dirt on your
lovely face, or the hole in those gloves you were just
lamenting?”
She wiped some dried mud from her cheek. The resulting dull pain told
her she had revealed a bruise beneath.
His eyes widened and he flew up the steps.
She stepped back. She couldn’t harm Gabriel so she lifted one arm as if
to dull a blow.
He froze, staring down at her.
It had been instinct. The last few years had taught her that no one is
immune to violence. A woman must learn to defend herself. If he had been
anyone else, she’d have struck him rather than shield herself against an
angry fist. She lowered her arm and looked into his piercing eyes. Her
heart pounded. She had made an error.
“Do you truly think I would strike you?”
Now that she was thinking clearly again, she hardly knew why she had
defended herself. It was foolish. Gabriel would never strike her. Her
environment had tainted her. She attempted to remain cold in her
explanation. “I hardly know what to think, my lord. We no longer know
each other.”
When he touched the tender bruise, she winced, but did not back
away.
“And this, Bella, would you care to explain this to me?” His voice was
soft and his touch feather-light, but his eyes narrowed and his posture
remained unyielding.
She brushed his touch aside. “Do not call me that.”
“You use to like that name.”
“That too was a long time ago.”
“Not so long,” he whispered. He gazed out into the garden as if lost in
some distant memory. His attention returned to her. “I am waiting for
some kind of response from you, Lady Belinda.”
In spite of her need to keep him at a distance, her heart ached at his
use of the formal address. Her first instinct was to tell him to go to
hell and leave her alone, but that would only provoke him. She lied
instead. “I have been at a ball. There was some problem with the
carriage, and I was required to walk part of the way. I fell in the mud
and some of it must have splattered my face when my dress was
ruined.”
He frowned. “And the bruise?”
Deep creases around his full lips drew her in. Desire to tell him
everything bubbled in her gut. She shrugged. “I’m sure it is only dirt.
The moonlight makes it seem more dire, and you are exaggerating the
situation greatly.”
“I see. Is this all the explanation I can expect?”
“It is what I am willing to say, my lord.” She turned and walked to the
house. The door opened just as she arrived, and she slipped inside
before her fiancé could say more.
“I thought he’d never let you go, milady,” her maid said. She took the
tattered cape from Belinda’s shoulders.
“He is angry, Claire.” Belinda sat down heavily on the stool so her
maid could remove her muddy boots before she tracked up the entire
house. No need for all the servants to begin asking
questions.
“He has a right to know what you’ve been up to.” Claire dropped one
boot with a heavy thud.
“Perhaps, but I cannot tell him, regardless of his rights. He would not
understand and probably could not believe me anyway. He’d have me sent
to Bedlam. He will have to remain in the dark. Besides, what would I
say? That while he was away fighting Napoleon, I was quite busy battling
the demons that are taking over England?”
“It’s a start.” Claire shrugged, but her Irish brogue dripped with
reproach.
“I think not. Just run me a bath, Claire. I’m tired, bruised and I just
want a hot bath and a warm bed.
“What happened tonight, milady? We expected you hours ago. I’ve already
sent Tubbs out looking for you.” Claire tucked all the soiled and torn
items into a bundle for laundering, and if possible,
mending.
“I hope he does not run into any demons while looking for
me.”
A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful IT career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back.
A.S. adores writing stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic, and maybe a little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to finish a good story.
Originally from New York, she grew up in New Jersey, and now lives in Missouri with her real-life hero, her wonderful husband. When not reading or writing she enjoys cooking, travel, history, and puttering in her garden. On the side, she is a master cat wrangler and her two fur babies keep her very busy.
Website or Blog: http://asfenichel.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/asfenichel
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/A.S.Fenichel
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5154640.A_S_Fenichel
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