THE REVOLVING BOOK FRIDAY EDITION IS THE PARANORMAL ROMANCE “THE GENIE IGNITES” by KELLY ANN ZUZULO
POSTED: FRIDAY FEB. 24th, 2012
AUTHOR: KELLYANN ZUZULO
TITLE: THE GENIE IGNITES: BOOK ONE OF THE ZUBIS CHRONICLES
GENRE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE
PUBLISHER: BOROUGHS PUBLISHING GROUP
WHERE TO BUY THE BOOK:
BOROUGH PUBLISHING GROUP: http://www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/books/genie-ignites
WILL BE AVAILABLE SOON at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo Books, Diesel eBookstore, Smashwords
Bethany O’Brien is a 21st-century woman with a career, ambition, and bills. She doesn’t remember how she once felt about a nearly 4,000-year-old genie named Zubis who suddenly invades her world, but he certainly remembers her. In a previous incarnation, Bethany was an important temple priestess who apprenticed to the djinn. Zubis is powerful, alluring, and infuriatingly bemused by Bethany’s skepticism. He once vowed to love her forever and has no plans of breaking his vow. Along with returning glimmers of this past life, Bethany must soon confront a citizenship in shambles, a job in jeopardy, and a mandate from an ancient society to kill the genie of her dreams. Although the priestess she once was had been taught that a romance with a djinni must never be, Bethany gradually realizes that her love for Zubis must never be forgotten. She will risk her citizenship, her job, and her life to save him.
A former journalist, Kellyann’s interest in Middle Eastern myth and legend stems from her stint as a Managing Editor of Publications for the Royal Embassy of Saudi Arabia in Washington, D.C. She is a published author of several genie romance novellas. One book, Angels & Genies, was included in a collection for which Charlaine Harris wrote the foreword. Kellyann lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, three children, and a jaunty terrier named Djin-Djin. Visit her at her website http://www.kfzuzulo.com.
Kellyann will be doing a blog tour in March – details to come here: http://www.kfzuzulo.com
CONNECT WITH KELLYANN ONLINE:
Although her heart beat out a rumba in her chest, Bethany fixed a self-assured expression on her face. Two Saudi guards, precise and silent and wearing brown slacks and tan uniform shirts that bore a palm tree above two crossed swords, flanked the entrance to the embassy lobby.
Beneath a pointed archway, two conveyor belts trundled toward two X-ray machines, waiting to swallow and judge each person’s belongings. Two more Saudi guards waved short wands up and down each guest in succession.
While she waited her turn, Bethany peered down a carpeted hallway where the exodus of guests emptied into a cavernous ballroom. Her heart skipped a beat. There he was again, leaning against a fluted Doric column. The crowd flowed around him as though he were the Colossus of Rhodes, watchful and unmoving.
Blood thrummed in Bethany’s ears. Her head buzzed. She fixed her eyes on the man and willed him to turn toward her. As though in response, he cocked his head sideways, revealing his profile.
The planes of his face suggested the marble bust of an Ottoman conqueror, infused with blood. The long slope of his nose commanded high cheekbones, angular jaw, and strong chin. Tight curls formed an inky corona that fell across his brow. More than his appearance, it was the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, and the wave in his hair that trumpeted recognition. It really was him.
A surge of familiarity blended with fear and washed across Bethany’s midsection. Vaguely aware of her actions, she pressed a hand against her chest in a gesture of astonishment. She felt certain that she had seen him before, but never in reality. Was it possible?
He was the wraith who haunted her dreams of the past several weeks. Irritation mingled with the burgeoning unease. This guy standing before her was the reason for her lack of sleep.
Only the night before, he had pursued her across empty District boulevards into a black cave inexplicably set in the middle of DuPont Circle. He made no sound and his movements were never frantic or threatening, but she ran from him just the same. And when she had reached a wall as hard and unyielding as coal, she turned to face him.
He didn’t reach for her. He didn’t menace her. He simply watched her with an expression that was at once brash, penetrating, bemused, and unrelenting. From the depths of sleep, Bethany struggled to form words, to petition the rogue who plagued her. She wanted to ask him “Why? What do you want?”
But she could only return his gaze, staring wordlessly into impenetrable eyes as golden and alive as a swirling sandstorm.
That morning, she’d awoken sweating and agitated, with a curse on her lips that she’d definitely buy a window air conditioning unit and would definitely make a concerted effort to speak to this meddlesome man of her dreams when he next appeared.
Now, here he was in the flesh. Bethany’s vision framed the man in slow motion as he turned to face her. He folded his arms against his chest and locked his gaze on hers. A smile spread across his face. Brazen.
Bethany shut her eyes to close him out, then opened them again, as though waking from a dream. He was there. Even across the distance, she knew that his eyes were the color of sand. He watched her as though he had access to that secluded place in her mind which harbored the things only she knew about herself. Her breath caught in her chest.