Books that live forever in your heart and dreams

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Spotloght for Immortal Heart by Inder Iversen

Immortal Heart
A Few Are Angels Prequel
Few Are Angels Series
In order of release:
Few Are Angels 5/31/12
Awakened 2/22/13
Immortal Heart 9/30/2013
NA Paranormal Romance
17+ Sexual Content and Language

More than a century after the tragedy of Hélène's death and before Ella found Kale bruised and broken on her doorstep, Kale moved through the world in a haze of personal punishment allowing it to consume him. Until his friend, Detective Deacon a newly infected Chorý calls on him for a favor.

Inger Iversen lives in Virginia Beach with her tree-hugging boyfriend Joshua and her overweight lap cat Max. When not reading or writing she spends her time watching reruns of True Blood or killing zombies in Call Of Duty.



Kale placed what he thought was a sexy grin on his face, but judging from the look on Sola’s face, he’d failed. “No, we can continue.”
He remembered how Sola had reacted to Deacon’s help and advances in their first meeting, and he realized that he wasn’t going to get in her good graces by being a flirt.
“Well, I’m a little thirsty. We can head back to the break room and get a soda.” Sola led the way back to the break room.
“How long have you worked here?” Kale asked her as he followed.
“Two years full-time, now.”
“What ‘wow’?” Sola turned her gaze to Kale.
“You have a lot of responsibility for a person who has been here for two years.” Kale opened the door to the break room and motioned for Sola to enter. “It must mean that you’re a damned good employee.”
Her father was part owner, and Kale assumed that that granted her more access and hours at work, but from the way she trained him—with detail and care—he knew that she was a hard worker and not just some kid thrown a job by her father.
“Yes, I guess I am.” Sola walked over to the soda machine in the corner and inserted her change. “You want something? It’s on me.” She flashed a sweet smile over her shoulder and then chose a soda for herself. Kale didn’t want a soda, but he accepted her offer anyway. She gestured to the table, where they made themselves comfortable in plastic chairs.
Sola sipped her drink. “You aren’t from here are you?”
Kale took a sip of his drink and grimaced. “No, I’ve only been in California for a few months, now.” He screwed the top back on the soda and placed it on the table.
“No, I mean from America. You’re not from America.” It was no longer a question but a statement. “I can hear a trace of your accent.” She moved her chair closer to him. “Say something,” she demanded with a smile.
Kale snorted. “I beg your pardon?”
Sola sat back in her chair. “See! I knew it.”
He eyed her and waited for her to explain.
“My mother is from Ghana, and though the official language in Ghana is English, Ghana has over seventy different dialects. All accented.” Sola took another sip of her drink, but Kale was still a bit confused. She smiled at him again, and his eyes moved to her lush lips and pearly whites.
Before he made her uncomfortable by staring he looked back at her eyes and said dryly, “I’m going to need more information than that.”
“See? There it is again.”
Kale shook his head and raised his arms. “There what is?”
"The way you pronounce your r." Sola let out an annoyed sigh. "Wait. Let me back it up. My mother—"
“Is from West Africa. Yes, I remember that part,” he rushed her, and she raised a brow. “I’m sorry. Please, go on,” he added with a smile, but her smirk annoyed him. Yes, she had figured out he was from France, but if she was going to guess, he sure as hell wasn’t going to help her.
“Anyway, my mother is super vain. She doesn’t like for people to know she’s from Africa, even though she is rich now and it shouldn’t matter what people think of her past, only who she is now—but that’s another story for another day.”
Kale was regretting telling Sola to continue. Her chatter, though cute, was also irritating.
“Well, she decided to tell people that she was American, but how could she do that with an accent?” She paused, as if giving Kale a chance to respond. She crossed her leg over her the other.
He tried to think of a way to respond without using an r.
“She took classes to lose her accent, but that wasn’t until I was ten, so I knew what my mother sounded like, and I knew the telltale signs of when she was slipping into the old accent.”
"Which are?" Kale asked, focusing on his r.

"Well, with you, it’s your r, and the way you change th to dz. I took a class, and one of the girls was French. She also had a hard time with her r."
Kale stared at Sola, wide eyed and amazed. He’d taken an ESL—English as a Second Language—class to learn English, and another one a few months ago to help him hide his accent. He was still struggling with those sounds.
“Am I right?” she asked with a sly smile. “I bet I’m right.”
Kale nodded, and Sola whooped, pumping her fist in the air, which earned her a raised eyebrow.
She blushed and settled down. “Why? I mean, it would be awesome to have an accent!”
Kale stretched his arms over his head, privately disagreeing. Since he had been in the United States for several years, he thought he’d lost a bit of his accent, but not enough. He was now Daniel Barnes, who had been born and raised on the East Coast. There would be no way to explain the French accent, if he ever had to.
“It’s annoying when you are speaking to someone and they have to constantly ask you to repeat yourself,” Kale admitted, as one of the reasons he didn’t like it.
“Say something?” she asked again, leaning closer to him. Her fresh scent washed over him—vanilla mixed with the sweet scent of her blood—and he smiled.
Her smile didn’t falter as Kale moved closer.
“What would you have me say?” he asked her, in a hushed tone.
Sola swallowed, watching his lips move. “How old are you?” she blurted.
“Twenty-three, born and raised in France,” Kale lied, not caring that she could easily look up his application and find his birth year. Daniel Barnes, the man he was impersonating, had passed away and was aging whether Kale, the imposter, could or not.
Sola smiled. Kale wasn’t sure if it was because she approved of his age or because he’d given up hiding his accent. He allowed his tongue to push to the back of his throat, making his r turn into a rolled or groaned rgr sound. He’d enjoyed her smile.
“I wish I had an accent,” Sola admitted, still sitting close to Kale.
He liked the closeness and carefully took in more of her scent. “No, your voice is amazing,” Kale admitted.
“Hah! It’s too deep.”
“Most would call it ‘husky’ or ‘sensual’.”
Sola’s eyes widened, and she sat back. Kale worried that he’d made a mistake by being so honest.
“I never thought of it like that. Thanks, Daniel.”
Kale nodded, afraid to speak. He was doing well, getting her to open up a bit, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

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