Soulbound Hits the Shelves Tomorrow!!!!

Hi Everyone :)  Thanks so much to everyone who has been out to see me at booksignings in the last few weeks.  It's been awesome to meet all of you.

Today, I'm excited because the day has finally arrived for my new Urban Fantasy series to hit the shelves. Soulbound, the first book in the Xandra Morgan series, will be out tomorrow and I couldn't be more thrilled.  It's a dark, suspensey, witch story that takes place in my current hometown of Austin, Texas and it was a blast to write.  I know the name is different-- Tessa Adams vs. Tracy Deebs-- but it's still me, just a psuedonym I write under :)

Here's the blurb:

As the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter—and a member of Ipswitch’s Royal family—Xandra Morgan should be a witch of incredible power. But things don’t always turn out like you expect…

While she hasn’t lived up to her family’s expectations, Xandra has come to terms with her latent magic and made a life for herself in Austin, Texas, running a coffee shop where she makes potions of a non-magical nature. While things aren’t perfect, Xandra is happy—until she runs into powerful warlock Declan Chumomisto.

Xandra hasn’t seen Declan in years, and though she’s still overwhelmed by his power, she doesn’t trust him. And when her own powers awaken one night and lead her to the body of a woman in the woods bearing the symbol of Isis—the same one that has marked Xandra since the day she met Declan—she’s filled with a terrible suspicion, soon confirmed: the woman is connected to him.

Xandra doesn’t want to believe that Declan is capable of murder, but as the body count mounts, and Xandra’s own powers spiral out of control, she’s not sure she can trust her own instincts…

 

And here's an excerpt:

 

I shouldn’t have drunk the damn tea.

I’d known it even as I took the first sip, but when I’d asked my mother what was in it, she’d sworn it was completely innocuous. Chamomile. Mint. A touch of lavender for luck.

Yeah, right.

But when I’d scented all three herbs in the cup she’d handed me, I’d decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. And while there’d been something else in there—something a little sweet that I couldn’t quite identify at the time—I’d just put it down to the agave syrup my mom’s been crazy about for months now.

I’m not a fan of the stuff but my mother looked so anxious, and so happy to see me after my six month absence from Ipswitch, that I hadn’t been able to disappoint her. I’d drunk the entire stupid cup in one long gulp to make up for the unpleasant taste.

I’m paying for it now, big time, which makes me an even bigger fool today than I was eight years ago. Back then, I’d still been trying desperately to live up to her expectations of me, to be the witch she wanted me to be. In the last few years, though, I’ve given up on trying to be something I’m not and have instead built a life for myself that I’m proud of—away from my hometown.

Away from the magic that is so much a part of this place.

Which, I suppose, makes my momentary gullibility more understandable. It’s been a while since I’ve been around the insanity and I’ve obviously forgotten how bad it can get. It was a mistake to think that I would be safe here, even for a couple of days.

After all, from the moment I walked away from Ipswitch and the magical legacy I had no hopes of living up to, my mother has been desperate to get me back. She’ll stop at nothing to find a way to unlock the powers I’m perfectly content without, will do anything to turn me into the Magic Barbie she’s always wanted me to be. Maybe if I’d remembered that, instead of thinking about how much I’d missed her, I’d be in better shape now.

Live and learn, I suppose. And just to be clear, I’d really like the chance to live through this. I send the thought out into the universe even as I wonder if the number for Poison Control is the same as it was when I was a little kid.

I reach for the phone, but it falls to the ground before I can wrap my hand around it—whether by accident or design, I’m not sure. The fact that it’s perfectly believable that my mother would have charmed the phone to prevent me from calling for help is one more glaring piece of evidence against both of us.

Idiot, idiot, idiot . . . The word thrums through my brain, a triple syllable repeating chorus that echoes the three step cramping in my stomach.

Squeeze, tighten, release.

Squeeze, tighten, release.

I-Di-Ot.

I didn’t know anything could hurt this much. Had my mother inadvertently given me too much of whatever this was, or had I simply poisoned myself by drinking the tea too quickly? I call out for help, then curl myself into a ball and pray for death. Maybe living isn’t all it’s cracked up to be after all—at least not if it comes with this.

“Hey, Xandra, what’s wrong?” my sister Rachael asks from her spot near the door. Though she normally doesn’t have much use for me, her most prominent power is healing. My illness must have called to her, overcoming her usual lack of interest.

“Tea,” is all I manage to say, but it’s enough. She rushes into the room and lays a cool hand on my forehead.

“Mom’s crazy,” she tells me. “I swear, your latency has pushed her completely around the bend.”

“What did she give me?”

She looks at my pupils, shakes her head. “Best guess?” she asks grimly. “Belladonna.”

I shudder at the confirmation of my worst fear. Guaranteed to bring out even the most latent magic—or so the herbal practitioners promise—belladonna has been a staple in witch gardens for centuries. I know my mom grows it, but I thought she burned it to get to its essence. Never in a million years did it occur to me that she would actually go so far as to feed me the toxic plant. Especially since, so far, the only thing it’s brought out in me is my breakfast—an experience I really could have done without.

“What do I do?” I ask between cramps, forcing the words out from between my clenched jaws.

“I’m not sure. I need to look it up, and talk to her, find out how much she gave you. Probably no more than a berry or two, which isn’t enough to kill you when brewed in a tea—it’ll just make you really uncomfortable.”

Another pain hits and I pull my legs even tighter against my stomach. “I think . . . uncomfortable . . . is an understatement,” I gasp.

“I know, sweetie.” She heads into my bathroom and comes out a few seconds later with a damp washcloth, which she lays across my forehead. “I’ll be back in a little while, hopefully with an antidote to make this all go away.”

“Pilocarpine,” I tell her, because while I’m no good with actually wielding magic, I’m still up on all the plants and other ingredients that witches deal with—a leftover from when I was trying to be super-witch.

“I know. I’m just not sure if I can get my hands on any. I wouldn’t put it past Mom to have gotten rid of all of it before you got here. You might have to suffer through this without it.”

Terrific. I grit my teeth against another influx of pain and swear to myself that I am never coming back here again. I don’t care about command performances anymore, don’t care how much my mother pleads with me to return for special occasions. She’s crossed so far over the line this time that there is no way I’ll be able to overlook it. Winter Solstice or not, I am out of here the second I feel better.

If I ever do feel better, which seems doubtful right now. The pain is increasing as the belladonna works its way through my system, and I try not to think about what’s coming next. Blurred vision, dizziness, hallucinations, convulsions. Already, I can see the edges of the walls bending, curving in on me. I tell myself it isn’t real, that it’s just another side effect of the belladonna, but the truth is I don’t know what’s real anymore and what’s illusion.

 

There will be more excerpts posted all week, so stop by and see what Soulbound is all about :)  And leave a comment for a chance to win a $50 gift card to Amazon or BN and a signed copy of Doomed.  Tweet and Facebook about Soulbound for extra chances to win and then let me know about it here.  Thanks so much :)