(The Chameleon Effect #3)
Publication date: October 15th 2019
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult
Connell Kurēn doesn’t love being a paparazzo…
He’s a member of the most scorned profession in Hollywood, but he’s good at it, and a hard-ass to boot.
He might also be called an ambulance chaser, though not for the disreputable reason he chases celebrities. Connell has the ability to heal, and at the sound of a siren, he is drawn to those in need.
Life is just fine until his pushy paparazzi nature almost gets someone killed.
Rowan Bren suffers post-traumatic stress and a permanent headache following a near-death experience at the hands of her mortal enemy. After months, she still isn’t right, but she won’t be held back from seeking her bond mate, Con, any longer.
She travels to Los Angeles motivated to help her friend, Idris, with his brilliant plan to locate their missing people. But Rowan’s top priority in the City of Angels is to find Con. She doesn’t know where he lives, but she’s not worried, because her crystal will lead her straight to him.
When she trips into his world, she finds a man so different from the person she expects, she fears he might not be Con at all. That he might be possessed by an evil force like the one that almost killed her.
Siren Song is the third novel of the Chameleon Effect series.
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The Wickedcoolflight Crew
Julianna opens a silvery brushed-steel door and ushers me into the room beyond, which is Jason’s study, she tells me. The room is wide open with a view of the backyard, which includes a blue-lit swimming pool.
Lots of glass, but this room has textured walls and feels cozier, more comfortable. My eyes latch onto the black grand piano on a raised quarter circle in the corner of the room. A Steinway. And she’s a beauty.
My fingers itch to touch her keys.
“Ah, Idris, you’re here.”
Malcolm’s voice tugs my attention to the opposite corner of the room, where the man relaxes in a black-leather club chair, his hands resting over the front of its padded arms.
Another man strides toward me. Jason Faltron. Tall and elegant, like his wife. I take in his cheerful features, cheeks rounded by his early years of jazz trumpet playing. But it’s his skill on the piano that sets him apart. He offers a lean hand with the long fingers you’d expect of a pianist.
Smiling back, I try to hide how overwhelmed I feel being in the same room with these musical giants. My fast-talking brain splutters and I become tongue-tied.
Finally, I come back with, “It’s amazing to meet you.”
Jason’s smile widens, like he gets my disconcertion. Like he was young and green once, too, and blown away by his own versions of Malcolm Emmanuel and Jason Faltron. “Malcolm says you’ve got talent. Ready to show us?”
I lick parched lips. “Um, well…sure.”
He gestures to the Steinway.
I flex and bunch my tingling fingers. Flex and bunch. Flex and bunch.
My attraction to the glossy grand is downright sensual. Playing an instrument like that is as close as it gets to sexual pleasure without sex.
I let go of my discomfort and self-consciousness. Playing instruments and making music is what my body—my whole being—was meant to do.
Sound is my superpower, after all.
Brushing my palms down my blue jeans, I make for the dais, jog up the three steps and slide onto the piano bench.
“Play for us, Idris,” Malcolm’s scratchy voice calls. I can hear its smile.
I lift the fallboard and stare at the keys. Wow. They gleam, smooth and beautiful. I run my fingers down their lengths, fingertips itching, brain longing to hear the perfect notes I know will rise from this marvel of musical technology the second I engage my hands.
Slowly, softly, I begin, getting to know the instrument under my fingers. Then I focus. Limbs becoming fluid as they loose the notes flowing through my head. Sleek moves. Sexy rhythms. Steely chords. All brought together into a living piece of music.
My voice joins in, cool and low. Even I’m impressed. Not a hint of nerves. Not a single quiver. I am one with the piano, like a first-class rider is one with his horse. The keys, hammers, strings become part of me, extensions of my soul. Pure. Bliss.
As the last tones fade, I pause, fingers still in contact with the instrument, unwilling to break this magical connection.
With a soft sigh, I slide fingertips lovingly over the lengths of those perfect white keys and drop my hands onto my thighs.
Alex Hayes wrote her first fiction story when she was twelve. Inspired by her mother’s storytelling, she began work on her first novel, Ice Cracks, at eighteen.
She received a Bachelor of Arts degree in English, Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. In her twenties, she moved from Marin County, California to Boston, Massachusetts, where she built a career as an IT professional in database engineering. In 2004, she self-published Ice Cracks, which became a semi-finalist in the 2005 IPPY Awards.
Alex splits her time between Grand Junction, Colorado and Guanajuato, Mexico. When she isn’t writing, she’s helping her partner, Lee, renovate a 450 year old hacienda. She is mother to one beautiful daughter and many wonderful cats.