Hey Melissa de la Cruz fans and WitchEEs! For those of you who don't know yet, Melissa de la Cruz is mostly well-known for her Blue Bloods series, which was her first series in the supernatural genre, even before Witches of East End. And after seven novels, one novella and one companion novel who all belong to what she calls the "first cycle" of the story, the first novel in her second cycle is about to be published! The exact release date is September 9, 2014, to be precise.
Here is a summary for those of you who might want to have a look. Of course, I suggest you read the first cycle story, because it is awesome. ;)
From the bestselling author of Blue Bloods and Witches of East End comes a new novel that explores the battle between good and evil, in the city that never sleeps ... Vampires of Manhattan: The New Blue Bloods Coven.
You'll devour Melissa de la Cruz's hot new adult novel, in which her Blue Bloods immortals have matured and are now exposed to new challenges, new loves, new threats, and a haute, hot hipster lifestyle.
It is ten years after the great War with Lucifer, and the Coven has rebuilt. Leader of the Fallen, Oliver Hazard-Perry, plans to celebrate this prosperity by throwing a 400 Year Ball-and all Blue Blood society will be there.
And now, two trailers and an exclusive excerpt have been released by the magazine USA Today, which I'll share with you here! (original article)
Copyright © 2014 Melissa de la Cruz. Excerpted from the novel Vampires of Manhattan: The New Blue Bloods Coven by Melissa de la Cruz, published by Hachette Books, a division of Hachette Book Group. All Rights Reserved.
It was a moonless night in September, chilly, and the sidewalks were teeming with young people congregating in front of restaurants and bars even on a Sunday night: girls with glasses that were too big for their faces wearing awkward-length skirts and ugly shoes, texting furiously on their smartphones as they headed to the next watering hole; boys in suspenders wheeling old-fashioned six-speeds home, twee bow ties around their necks, who looked like they spent their days editing copy with red pencils instead of on screens until their faces were as pale and bluish as the light from their computers.
This had been quite the ghetto neighborhood once, but the tornado of gentrification that swept through broad swaths of the city during the last decade shook up Williamsburg until it was almost unrecognizable. The dirty urban landscape of bleak tenements that had once been home to junkies and starving artists was now filthy with money, was hipster central, counting bankable artists, boutique owners, artisanal chefs, and earnest young bearded men who made small-batch chocolate among its residents. She entered one of the last remnants of the former neighborhood, her favorite bodega, a shabby storefront where candy bars were kept behind bulletproof glass, and nodded to Bahir, who had her cup of coffee at the ready.
At least some things never changed.
Ara walked toward the Bedford Avenue station sipping her coffee and occasionally blowing on it through the lid to cool it down. The subway platform was filled with Manhattanites heading home, the new bridge-and-tunnel crowd, she mused, remembering that old insult, when Upper East Siders like her used to sneer at the outer borough weekend crowd. In her old moneyed life, she never even took the subway-maybe once in a while, just for kicks, to slum it with her fellow Merryvale girls. But that was as far as she went under ground. She never even touched the subway turnstile with her hands if she could help it; she would push it with her hip.
For the first thirteen years of her life Ara had lived on Eighty Third and Park Avenue and had worn the same thing every day: a white button-down shirt, a green plaid skirt, and a blue blazer with the gold school crest. She was a Blue Blood in every sense of the word; her family used to summer in the Hamptons and Bermuda and winter in Palm Beach. She'd had long glossy hair that fell past her shoulders, and her friends were rich and popular. Ten years later, the silly, spoiled girl she had been back then, back when she was still called "Minty," was a distant memory. But some things remained the same-she still wore a uniform, she thought, looking down at her all-black outfit. Preferred it even since it was one less thing she had to worry about. Besides, black blended in with the shadows. Fading into black was the opposite of drawing attention, and attention was the one thing Ara couldn't afford. Not in her particular line of work.
How far Minty had come since Merryvale. Good riddance. Ara missed nothing about her own life, not really. Well, maybe the manicures, she thought, examining her nails.
The train clacked into the station and screeched to a halt. She pushed in with the rest of the revelers calling it a night, finding a place to stand without having to touch anyone else too closely. It was amazing how polite New Yorkers were, how they allowed each other a certain degree of personal space even when shoved up next to someone's armpit. No one made eye contact. It was only the perverts and the weirdos who stared directly at you; everyone else kept their eyes trained above at the Dr. Zit posters or below at the grimy floor.
Ara leaned against the doors and savored her coffee, zoning out with the rest of the passengers. She got off at Fourteenth Street and caught the N downtown. It was almost one in the morning and the subway car was empty now, rattling passengers like bones in a cage. Not a lot of people headed to the financial district in the wee hours. Ara wasn't worried and for good reason. She was probably the most dangerous thing in there.
Her destination was the newly christened Orpheus Tower, the headquarters of the new Coven. Once upon a time the building had housed one of the most powerful investment banks in the world, but the bank had crumbled in one day, disappearing with most of the world's wealth. The Coven had snatched the building up for a song. As Ara walked through the glass-and-chrome lobby, she never failed to marvel at just how much things had changed. Vampires no longer hid in their corescrapers, buildings that tunneled deep into the ground, as the new Regent-and he was still relatively new at ten years in, given their former leader had led the vampires for centuries-decided they had as much right to the sky as the rest of the world. She pressed the button for the top floor -SECURITY and pricked her finger on the blood key. The elevator whisked her up and opened to a bank of surveillance screens surrounding a massive desk in front of an imposing steel door.
"Chief wants you," the night clerk told her with raised eyebrows. Ara sighed as the clerk buzzed her through.
Since she was already in trouble, she decided to pick up her files first. That suspect she was trailing had an unrecognizable aura; he was definitely immortal, but he wasn't one of them. Chief might be interested to know the list of vampire hot spots he'd visited.
Her office was one of the corner ones with a floor-to-ceiling window and a panoramic view of the Brooklyn Bridge and the bright lights of the city. But as far as Ara was concerned the most impressive thing about it was the plaque on her door. The one that read:
It never failed to give her chills. Most nights she couldn't believe she actually made it through training and was now part of this elite squad, the most prestigious and exclusive police force in the world. She was a card-carrying badass. A truth seeker. A hunter. A killer. Veritas Venator. Venators had the ability to read and destroy minds, enter and manipulate dreams. They brought death and destruction in the name of truth and justice.
Sooo, who's in for a new ride with the Blue Bloods? ;)