Author Spotlight: Lisa Sanchez

Faythe Reclaimed
by Lisa Sanchez

Running through a strange forest with a bloodthirsty demon hot on her heels wasn’t Taylor’s idea of a rockin’ evening. Then again, neither rwas soaring backward through time and space. Time travel chafed and left a rank, nasty aftertaste. So, when she finds herself floundering amidst a sea of Commandment-loving holy rollers who fling accusations of witchcraft and bedevilment like hotcakes in a diner, finding her way home jumps to the top of her to do list. Too bad she can’t remember who she is or where she came from. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Taylor realizes she’s fallen for Gabriel, the mysterious Latin warlock who came to her rescue.

Battling an identity crisis and lost in a time that’s not her own, Taylor is determined to find her way back to twenty-first century Hanaford Park. But first, she and Gabriel must work together to uncover the dark scourge lurking in the shadows of Salem Village, and in doing so, save their lives, and the lives of countless innocents from a lethal date with the hangman’s noose.

Lisa Sanchez is a California cheer mom taxiing her way through life, one car ride at a time.  Along with chauffer, she sports several job titles, including, but not limited to:  author, chef, seamstress, videographer, nurse, enforcer, and general slave to her three daughters.

The first two books in her Hanaford Park series (Eve Of Samhain, Pleasures Untold) are published with Omnific Publishing. The third book, Faythe Reclaimed, is currently on submission. Her erotic suspense, Obsessed was published March 29th 2011 with Loose Id.

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Excerpt:

Dark, viscous liquid pooled onto the rotting floorboards below her body, the blackened puddle oddly reminiscent of a Rorschach inkblot.

Suppressed memories and emotions I’d believed long dead amassed from deep within, slamming me with a powerful crescendo of…Madre de Dios…feeling. Something I hadn’t experienced since the moment I’d lost my other half.

Nausea and desperation mimicked acid, burning a hole through my gut and my chest as I allowed my gaze to wander north. I knew what I’d find, and, fuck it all to hell, it scared me to death.

Taylor. The exotic beauty who’d breezed into my life just days before. The angel who’d awoken me from the state of numbness I’d resided in for three centuries. The woman who was an exact matchin every way to my long deceased Faythe, hanged upside down and unconscious in front of me.

Thud…

Thud…

Thud…

My heartbeat… It echoed in my ears like a muted drumbeat. The rapid tympani so synonymous with anger and rage oddly diminished and muffled as though I were listening to it from deep within the bowels of the ocean.

How? How had I allowed my enemy to capture the beautiful creature who’d breathed life into my pathetic existence?

I thrashed against the magical bonds holding me captive, every fiber of my being filled with panic, desperation—and rage. Supernatural throw downs were a normal part of my everyday life. A warlock, an exiled member of one of Europe’s most powerful covens, I’d been bred to do battle, to fight the dregs of the underworld—with magic.

Magic. It had been my saving grace, time and again. It was also the bane of my fucking existence. Much like time. I hated my magic, almost as much as I hated myself. Witchcraft, limitless power… Both proved worthless when they didn’t allow you to save the one you loved. My magic hadn’t kept Faythe’s neck out of the hangman’s noose.