#Excerpt #Giveaway: 'Hunters - Book One' by Aoife Marie Sheridan

 Abigail is nineteen, her job she hunts demons.
Her life so far has been tough, having witnessed her family’s death and her mother’s suicide she’s taken in by a priest, who believes her when she says she sees ghosts. Father Peter trains her as a demon hunter with three other members, one being Daniel, who isn’t what he seems.
But when a possession goes wrong, and ghosts start to attack Abigail, the tight rope she had on her emotions soon starts to loosen.
Abigail draws the unwanted attention of the Vatican, and she finds out a lot more then she was willing to learn.
Knowledge is power, but for Abigail it’s her undoing, and the only thing keeping her together is Daniel.
This is the blurb of 'Hunters - Book One' a paranormal romance by Aoife Marie Sheridan (Cover Artist: Airicka’s Mystical  Creations)

Available at Amazon
Chapter One 
The possession 
I clicked my Nokia cell phone shut while stuffing it back into my worn, brown leather jacket pocket. Slamming the door behind me, I bounded down the hard brown tiled steps out the main door. The surface outside my door made me glide and I nearly lost my balance. Ice coated the path in front of the main door, in June? That didn’t make sense. I stepped off the icy path and took the alleyway out of my apartment building. No street lights lit up the small and dirty path, which was wedged in-between the two red large brick buildings. The path was littered with beer bottles and household rubbish, and grass sprang up amongst the cracks in the pavement. It was a run-down dive.
The building on my left was home to me, number 22 is my own place, it wasn’t much, but like I said it was mine, and that’s all that mattered to me. The other building was full of unknown people, who I had no intentions to get to know. I spent fifty percent of my time here and fifty percent of my time at the base, or the headquarters for us demon hunters. In the London area, we were the only group and within it, there were five of us, including Father Peter; the man who took me in and raised me. The man who had saved us all from ourselves. We all had our reasons and stories for becoming hunters, each one as depressing as the next.
The Base became home to most of us, but I spent the least amount of time. Cathy, Zee, and Father Peter lived there permanently, but Simon stayed between the base and his brothers, he was lucky enough to still have people, who cared about him. The rest of us just learned to accept each other as a family, as our own blood relatives were either dead or didn’t want anything to do with us.
I was the only one with no living family and who chose to live by themselves. For me, being around people; having to smile and interact was too hard. I pretended to be normal most of the day, but once I was home, I could let the mask slip and be myself. I wouldn’t be able to keep the pretense up twenty four hours a day, and lately, it was becoming harder to pretend that everything was normal. My pride was becoming my weakness. I needed people really, but I refused to give in.
The noise of my black military boots, splashing in large size puddles that had filled from the recent downpour, pulled me back from my thoughts, my black jeans were tucked neatly inside my boots, keeping them dry. I shivered now against the wind that whipped at my face, pulling strands of my long, straight, black hair out of the bun that I had so tightly wound it in, it never stayed put, its shiny silky tendrils finding an escape route too easily. I pushed some of the strands out of my deep, brown eyes and pulled my jacket tighter around my small frame. The black top, I wore under my jacket, was light and the cold air raced through it, rising goose bumps in its way. I scolded myself for not dressing in warmer clothes, but Father Peter had just called and I didn’t have time to change. The job was urgent, so I would have to do as I was.
 I walked faster, keeping a look out over my left shoulder. One thing Father Peter always told me with a weary look on his face, “Always fear the living more than the dead.” Some days, I questioned his theory, but on nights like these, I had to agree. I glanced to my left as soft moans from two men caught my attention. One had a belt tightened around his upper arm as the other watched with anticipated glee. The man slapped his arm, making the veins rise, before inserting the syringe full of Heroin, More bruises than I could count coated his arm, his body slumped as his drug of choice fuelled his body into oblivion. His companion took the syringe and with greedy eyes, started to prep himself but paused as he saw me pass, I dropped my eyes, and he grunted before continuing. A gunshot resounded somewhere in a distance apartment building, the squeal of sirens soon followed.
 My heart skipped a beat as my phone rang loudly. My hand, now cold and blue, hurt as I reached into my pocket to retrieve it, brushing my knuckles off the steal zip that was like razor blades against my cold pale skin. I pushed the phone to my ear not looking at the caller ID; I already know who it was.
“Zee, I’m kind of busy so you’ll have to make it quick.” I already knew what he was calling for, but I was a sucker for the impossible.
“Me too, funny that is?” I could hear the smirk in his voice. I normally never worked alone, but after the nightmares that woke me up, I didn’t want to see Zee tonight, never mind work with him, he was always centered in my nightmares.
“Hilarious, I am holding my sides.” I said as dryly as possible, hoping he would catch on quick to my bad mood. That was one thing I loved about Zee; I could be myself around him and I didn’t have to pretend to be okay. My silence never bothered him; he never once forced me to speak about what was on my mind. Yet, I often felt that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I turned a corner out of the alleyway and my body relaxed, happy to be out of the danger zone. I had come across a bit of trouble at times and especially at nighttime, when a more sinister scene developed around our complex. But what did I expect? A woman or a girl on her own, well, it all depended on what way you looked at me, I was only nineteen, but I had seen my fair share in life. I was a target for loiters, they never harmed me, just shouted abuse or made suggestive remarks. It didn’t scare me, that’s why I still walked through it and used it as a shortcut, I just hoped I would never regret all the warnings that Zee gave me. However, it did save me a twenty-minute walk through the apartment complex so that was good enough for me. 

About the Author:
Aoife Marie Sheridan has loved reading from a very young age, starting off with mills and boon's books, given to by her grandmother her love for romances grew, by the age of 14 she had read hundreds of them.
Aoife had a passion for writing poetry or in her eyes her journal entries. It was something she did throughout her teens and into her twenties. Aoife won first place for two of her poems and had them published at a young age of just nineteen. Realising she needed to get a real job (What writing isn't) she studied accountancy and qualified working in that field for many years, until her passion for reading returned and she found Maria V Snyder. Poison study one of her favourite books has been read and re-read countless times.
Aoife's first book Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) came to be after a dream of a man and woman on a black horse jumping through a wall of fire and the idea of Saskia was born. Now with her first novel published and taking first place for Eden Forest with Writers Got Talent 2013, Aoife continues to write tales of fantasy and is currently working on her third book for the Saskia Trilogy amongst other new works.
Tour giveaway

3 ebook copies of Hunters #1

1- 10 euro amazon gift card 


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