We are pleased to have Michelle Valentine stop by on our blog today as she promotes her new paranormal release, Demon at My Door, which released on February 12th.
Read Christine’s 5 STAR review here.
Enter for a chance to win an ebook copy of this book by leaving a comment on our facebook page or after this post about why you love paranormal books. Winner will be chosen tonight at 10pm. Good luck!
Michelle has provided us with an exclusive deleted scene from Demon at My Door – Natalie’s Deal With the Boy Demon
When most people dream, they don’t know it’s not real, but not me. I’m stuck with the same reoccurring nightmare every night and I know it’s very real. Tonight it starts off the same as always and takes me back to the moment I met him.
Not much has changed in our kitchen over the last sixteen years and the aroma of scented birthday cake candles tickle my nose takes me back to being a five-year-old girl again.
Sunlight shines down into my soul and takes me back to how carefree my life was before pure evil came into my life and ruined it. But, for now, I enjoy the love Mom exudes while she makes our hot dog lunch.
I wish I would’ve kept the events of that day a secret, because now I know some things people don’t want to really hear. No matter if it is the truth.
“Honey, you know the best part about snow days?” Mom asks the innocent girl in front of her while she places lunch on the table.
A younger version of me shakes her head and black pig tails wrapped in pink, silk ribbons bounce back and fourth.
She smiles as she twists her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “Making snow angels.”
It’s hard for me to imagine my mom ever dressed comfortably, and if it wasn’t for this reoccurring nightmare, I would have a hard time believing she ever worn jeans. She’s always in dress clothes now-a-days. She’d never be caught dead in the jeans and tee shirt she’s wearing back then. After all, we’re better than that now because Dad’s a prestigious physician and we have to look the part. Her words, not mine.
“Can we go out now, Mommy? Please?” My five-year-old self begs, which isn’t a surprise. I could repeat this entire conversation word for word, like a movie I’ve seen a thousand times.
“Sure. As soon as we finish lunch, we’ll get our snowsuits on and go outside to play. We might even go next door and see if your sister and her friend want to join us. It’ll be good for her to play with her little sister. ” Mom smiles and pats my little head.
Mini Natalie’s face brightens at the mention of playing with my older sister, Alicia. She’s always been my favorite person. My little face is all smiles and excitement until Mom grabs her throat and jumps up from her seat. My little eyes, that just danced with anticipation of playtime, are now lost in a sea of confusion.
“Mommy? Mommy? What’s wrong?” little Natalie pleads.
My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest and my hands shake. How I wish we could redo moments in our lives. Take things back. Make them better.
Mom gasps and eventually loses the struggle for her life. My eyes are glued to her as she collapses onto the floor, and wets her pants. The first few times I had this dream, I freaked out. Majorly. But now, I know she doesn’t die. It’s always the same scene. Still, I continue to shake. When she gasps for the last time, I hear a knock on my front door. Everything in the room goes still. My feet turn into ice blocks as my breath grows ragged while I wait on the inevitable. Even after all the times I’ve seen him, in person or in my dreams, he still turns me into a basket case.
Mom is frozen like a creepy wax figure. Nothing’s moving on her at all. Even the second hand of the clock that hangs on the wall is motionless. The only sign of life in that kitchen is me. Oblivious to what’s occurring, little me rushes over to Mom and shakes her.
She’s solid as a stone.
Again, there’s a knock on the door. This time, little Natalie gets up while tears stream down her face and runs toward the door. I remember all I wanted was help, someone to make Mommy better, and believed that someone was on the other side of the door.
It’s like a horror movie, and I want to yell “Don’t open the door!” because everyone, except the character stuck in the situation, knows nothing good can be on the other side of that door. Granted, I was only a child back then, and would know something isn’t right now. But this is the past, something which can’t be undone. So, every night I have to face my demon in the form of a dark-haired little boy.
My breath catches as she turns the knob and a gasp escapes me when the door creaks open and he marches inside without an invitation. Whenever I see him come into my house, I wonder why he didn’t whirl in with his typical tornado entrance I’ve seen so many other times. The only thing I can figure is he didn’t want to scare a little kid. How considerate of him.
He’s wearing a black wool coat and has a scarf bundled around his neck to keep out the bite of the cold January afternoon. We’re practically the same size, and as I look at him now, I’m drawn to his eyes. Stormy, gray eyes, wise beyond his physical age.
Nose-to-nose with the little me, the boy demon stares with an emotionless face, then speaks. “Do you want to save your mom?”
Nothing else mattered but saving Mom. I would’ve done anything to keep her in my life, including a deal with Satan himself.
With tears pouring down her face, the little version of me nods. “Yes.”
“Then shake my hand to promise me your soul, and your mommy will live.” The little demon offers and extends his small hand.
Little Natalie dries her weepy eyes with her shirt sleeve and stares at the boy.
His eyes soften and he gives her a half-hearted smile. “I just want to help you. I promise I’d never hurt you or your mommy.”
I shake my head. What a load of crap. If he doesn’t want to hurt me, why did he damn my soul?
If I’d realized I was agreeing to hand over my soul to one of Satan’s minions in order to save a person who would eventually turn on me, I don’t know if I would’ve made the same choice.
Every time, I silently will myself not to touch this boy, but it never does any good. It’s like my brain is a DVD player with a scary movie stuck on permanent repeat, doomed to replay the creepiest incident in my life forever.
“Trust me,” he says and shakes his extended hand at the little girl.
My tiny palm makes contact with his hand and jolts the tingles alive. The electricity flows through my hand and it takes my breath away. Although there’s no physical scar, I know there has to be some internal damage to my hand’s muscle structure. Why else would I have the same shocking sensation every time I see this part or when he shakes the hands of a dying person? It’s almost like I was branded in that moment, a permanent piece of his property. That’s why I know one of his little visits will actually be for me.
As soon as he releases me, I examine my hand innocently, not knowing this would be the first of many hand shockers I’d be subjected to throughout my life. Little Nat looks to the boy for answers, but he stiffens his shoulders and stuffs his hands into his coat pockets.
“That hurt,” little Natalie says and then looks to Mom, who is still motionless.
He frowns, almost like he’s sorry, and his eyes met hers. “You belong to me now, and I’ll be back to get you after your twenty-first birthday, when the time is right. No one else can touch you until then, but I’ll keep an eye on you.”
He pauses, like there’s more of an explanation he wants to give, but instead, he turns on his heel and heads right back through the front door. The minute he shuts it, time regains its momentum, and Mom spits the little, round piece of hotdog on the floor.
It never fails to amaze me how Mom rushes off to the bedroom to change while she mumbles incoherently. She’s in total denial that she died. Still is.
I shake my head in dismay. When she leaves the room, the dream ends, and I wake up, like always.
Gothic outcast Natalie Sugarman bartered her soul for her dying mother’s life sixteen years ago to a boy demon that could stop time. Now, days before her twenty-first birthday, the lifelines on her palms are slowly vanishing, and she knows it’s just a matter of time before Satan’s little helper collects.
Natalie’s tried numerous times to kill the demon and regain control of her soul’s destiny, but she always falls short. When she decides to try and gain the element of surprise for her next attempt, Natalie seeks answers about his location from a freaky, glowing-eyed fortuneteller. Creeped out by the psychic’s methods, she bolts from the reading and misses the warning that the demon who stole her soul is always closer than she thinks.
After some strange incidents with her new boyfriend, including a hot, levitating sex session, she realizes he’s the grown-up version of her little nightmare and he’s returned to collect on their deal. Natalie must figure out how to win her soul back from the demon before her lifeline completely disappears and she becomes his forever—even if that means making a deal to damn three other souls to take her place.
*Demon At My Door is a New Adult Paranormal Romance with very mature scenes*