Part of Series
They were never supposed to leave alive…Find out why New York Times bestseller Maya Banks hails McKenna’s books as “A non-stop thrill ride...” Only one woman could tempt him to return… Eric Trask and his brothers have turned their backs on their past. Only their beloved foster father’s funeral could drag them back to the small town of Shaw’s Crossing. Eric is haunted by the memory of GodsAcre, the doomsday cult in the mountains where they were raised and the deadly fire that destroyed it, but one memory still shines bright…Demi Vaughan. Her lush, sexy mouth, her stunning green eyes. Their hot fling seven years ago crashed and burned in the worst possible way, and she’s still mortally pissed at him…and more gorgeous than ever. Second chances… Demi Vaughan did her best to forget Eric Trask. They told her from the start that he was a train wreck, and she hadn’t listened. He’d broken her heart and derailed her life, and she’d be damned if she’d let him do it again, now that she’d followed her dream and opened her own restaurant. But the years that passed have only turned Eric into a more concentrated version of what he’d always been—a flint-eyed, brutally ambitious, hyper-focused alpha male hunk. Just taller. Harder. As intoxicating as hell. Demi tries to withstand Eric’s magnetic pull, but she can’t resist the all-consuming heat between them. But an old evil still lies low in Shaw’s Crossing, and Eric’s arrival has shocked it back into life. Now it’s not just their hearts that are in danger. It’s their lives… AUTHOR’S NOTE: Headlong, Book Two of The Hellbound Brotherhood, is the continuing story of Demi and Eric. It began in Hellion, Book One, and picks up their story seven years later. The other titles in The Hellbound Brotherhood are part of a connected series, but each book features its own couple and its own HEA.
Author
Also wrote five category romances under the penname Shannon Anderson ::From The Author's Website:: HOW IT ALL BEGAN I started writing my first romance novel in secret. I was working a temp job in an insurance office in Manhattan at the time, and the office manager had made it clear that even if there was nothing to do, I still had to look busy—never one of my big talents. I felt bad about the wasted time, though, and I needed something to round out my other chosen career, which was singing. Yeah, that's right. Most artists choose a more practical Plan B to back up their improbable Plan A. Me? No way. "Long Shot" is my middle name. So I sneakily set up a Document 1 and a Document 2 with a spreadsheet on it. If my Boss du Jour walked by I could quick-like-a-bunny switch screens, and whenever the coast was clear, I went back to my story. Not that I was slacking, mind you. If there was work to be done, I did it. The sneakiness felt familiar, though, because I've been teased about reading romances since I was a kid. I think the day I finally grew up was the day I stopped trying to cover up what I was reading on the bus, train or subway. Let people think whatever they like. It wasn't until I moved to Italy (details of that Long Shot provided later on) that I got serious about writing, though. I found myself with many long, quiet days alone with nothing to do, so I slogged my way bravely to the end of the manuscript and sent it out. Everybody rejected it-except for Kensington. I wrote for them for a few years, and then made a bid for an erotic novella for the new Brava imprint, and oh joy, they accepted it. Then I wrote BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. And so on, and so forth. That's how I started. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. I never knew it would be so scary, and so hard . . . all that solitude and silence, a blank computer screen, and no one to blame. But still. It's worth it. It's great.
