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New Release - Blood Moon by @LiviaQuinn Plus Destiny Paramortal Series New Covers! #KindleUnlimited

I’m excited to finally reveal all my new covers for my paranormal series in one place, designed by the super talented Cora of Cora Graphics during release week for Blood Moon, book 6 of the Destiny Paramortals.

The series as described by one of my readers as a paranormal mystery romance. It’s a world of dragons, storm witches (tempestaeries), shifters, vampires and fae—protecting mankind while searching for their fated mates. It’s a fun, emotional and quirky ride with twists and turns that will keep you guessing, and relationships that make you want to come back for more.

This week the series returns to Amazon exclusively and all six books are free to read on Kindle Unlimited.

Series: Destiny Paramortals

Welcome to Destiny, home to the Paramortals since…well, forever…where human neighbors and their new sheriff live alongside shifters, dragons, vampires and a family of djinn.

Just don’t tell the humans.

Title Storm Crazy #1

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Author Livia Quinn


To former Navy pilot-turned-sheriff Jack Lang, the town of Destiny appeared the perfect place to settle down - safe, sane and secure. But his investigation into a perplexing death shatters the alleged calm and threatens the tranquil home life he hoped to provide for his daughter. Especially, when he catches his mail lady in the act of stealing an antique vase after stepping over said body. Soon enough, Jack discovers Tempest Pomeroy is an outright trouble magnet who never fails to test the limits of his patience or the law.

Tempe’s regular job is delivering the mail, but the chaotic storm brewing in this idyllic small town amplifies her quickening powers. Her genie brother’s bottle is missing, her mother’s nowhere to be found, and the sexy sheriff and her ex-lover are facing off like gladiators in an arena. Except, well, Destiny doesn’t even have a civic center. For most of her life, she’s denied her heritage, but as the sheriff’s investigation veers off into the bizarre and intrudes into the existence of the Paramortals, danger heads toward them like an F5 tornado… Look out, Tempest’s about to go Storm Crazy.

A human sheriff, a storm witch, and the quirky, supernatural town of Destiny. What could go wrong?



I installed Pomeroy in the empty jail cell but didn’t lock it, although I was tempted to see if she’d try her hand-me-down skills on one of my locks. Pulling a case file from the desk drawer I remembered I’d promised to call Jordie.

“Where’s Tempe?”

The voice sounded like it belonged on a classic western, laced with tequila and cigarettes. I turned to face a tall man dressed in black. I could almost hear the cheesy “Good, Bad, and Ornery” music in the background. His name would have been Diablo.

I hadn’t even heard the door open. I thought of the covert operatives I’d met while serving in the Mideast. Intimidating, with his wet slicked black hair, dark eyes and stubbled jaw—this man would be hazardous to your health. His face held no expression, hands hanging loose at his sides, but I recognized a seasoned warrior when I saw one. Battle-ready.

“Who’s asking?”

“Dylan McGuinness, Special Investigator.” He pulled his black leather jacket aside to expose his badge.

What was he to Tempe? I wondered, as I pointed to the chair by the door. “Have a seat.”

He hesitated for a minute then, after taking stock of his surroundings, lowered himself onto the chair. Spring-loaded… dangerous… and proprietary were my impressions.

“What is your relationship with Tempest Pomeroy?” I asked and was blindsided by an irrational stab of… jealousy?

His lip quirked in tandem with an eyebrow. “What’s it to you? I’m here on official business, Sheriff…” he eyed the name plate on the desk, “…Lang.” I didn’t know the man but felt an instinctive dislike and distrust. What was his association with Tempe?

“State your business then—McGuinness, was it?”

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but we seemed to be in some kind of pissing contest. “Ms. Pomeroy didn’t have a phone call so how did you know she was here?”

“Why didn’t she get a phone call, if you’ve arrested her?” His thumb and index finger rubbed his whiskered chin and it wasn’t lost on me that he hadn’t answered my question.

I was feeling a perverse sense of non-cooperation. I didn’t just not want to answer. I wanted to have it out with Diablo…take it outside, so to speak. Where was that coming from? Talk about irrational. And I prided myself on my rationality. I regrouped.

“She’s not exactly arrested—yet. I’m still thinking on it.”

McGuinness’ narrowed eyes failed to conceal the workings of his quick lethal mind, and if I guessed correctly, a fondness for my prisoner. Her comment about misplaced trust came to mind, and I felt myself bristle. I made fists under the table trying to push down the ugly green emotions roiling up inside me. Once again, I had nothing to go on, but my instincts were screaming in his presence.

“So, what do I have to do to spring her?”

“Depends. If you can keep her away from my crime scene, I’m tempted to let you have her,” I said, with implied double meaning.

He nodded. “I might be able to handle that. She has a sit-to with her boss in less than an hour, and if she doesn’t end up suspended, she’ll be busy working all day. I have to get a couple statements from her this evening or tomorrow.”

I winced as I remembered her comment about being fired over picking up Jordie. “How well do you know her?”

McGuinness’ head tilted, and he hesitated before answering. One black eyebrow arched, he asked, “What’s it to you?”

Ah, there it was.

Title Cry Me a River #2

Author Livia Quinn


Amid the strange goings on in his new hometown, Sheriff Jack Lang organizes a search for Tempest Pomeroy’s brother. Although Jack glimpsed her supposed supernatural talents in the form of lightning bolts aimed directly at him—special effects, had to be—nothing will keep him from doing his job to protect the town’s residents, his daughter, and even the trouble-making Tempe.

In the course of the investigation, lies and suspicions cloud their mutual attraction, but Storm Witch Tempe’s new ex-Navy pilot beau vows to learn everything about this quirky town.

Everything? Like a massive rumble of thunder, her family secrets—including her brother’s djinn nature—shake things up. Sure, Jack may stick around to finish his investigation, but once he knows all about the supernatural aspects of the town…? Well, wouldn’t it be just like a man to exit a relationship when he finds out a woman has a few little secrets?

Because in the town of Destiny, the burgeoning, unpredictable supernatural whips up a massive whirlwind of everything. “Come to Destiny, you won’t want to leave.”



I returned Dylan’s perusal, raking over the black duster where moisture steamed off that big hard body. The only obvious break in color was the shiny gold badge on the black id wallet visible between the leather lapels. He was dark and dangerous, and once again I felt the sensual pull. I rubbed my forehead, willing those thoughts away.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Persephone?”

“That’s it! Just once, could you call me by my friggin’ name?” I pushed off the stool and turned on him, fisting clumps of my hair.

He sat back, looked at me closely. “Talk to me. What’s going on,” he said.

“I need a favor, Inspector.”

He slid off his stool, motioning the bartender away with a look. “I think you’ve had enough.”

I turned on him, “Who died and made you the keeper of me?” And then I remembered what I’d learned, and a sob escaped my throat. I turned away. Get a grip. I signaled the bartender to bring me a tonic water, and felt Dylan’s hand squeeze my shoulder gently. I didn’t mean to let him, but it felt so…comforting.

“Bad day?” His voice was a calming purr. “Bad week,” he corrected. He could be so sweet. I hated that I remembered that about him, too. “I’m sorry I was late. I’ve been on a job in Baton Rouge.” He stroked a length of my hair behind my ear.

I could have easily allowed him to shoulder my troubles. Fix everything. No, that was tequila thinking. I didn’t need the betraying bastard to fix anything for me. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need you.”

I think he winced, but my vision was suspect.

“Come on, you need to call it a day.” He got up towering over me.

I slid off the stool, swaying just a smidgen. I was sure he didn’t notice, but then his hand settled on my hip steering me between the other stools and patrons into the fresh rain-washed night. I tripped on the uneven walkway of the porch and felt his hand on my elbow.

He said, “Tempe,” and turned me toward him. “Damn,” he muttered, looking off.

“Ah, so you do know my name,” I said.

“Look, I need to talk to you. Privately.”

I guess the dark night with only a few people coming and going from the parking lot wasn’t private enough. He led me around the side of the building. The comforting song of the rain frogs started up again as I propped myself against the outside wall. He placed both hands on either side of my head.

“This may not be the best time, but I need to say this.” His flippant manner was gone, replaced by frank sincerity. Whether he was deciding to continue or just weighing his words, I waited. He sounded different, almost humble. Huh.

“When I was on that job in Baton Rouge, I realized that I couldn’t let something happen before I got the chance to tell you…” he let out a deep breath. “…about what happened two years ago, I didn’t mean to hurt you. There were—are reasons why…”

I guess what he saw on my face he took for forgiveness, instead of shock. “Oh, hell.” His lips touched mine in a kiss reminiscent of those nights by the fire, touches drenched in desire, his body like hot steel…I groaned.

There was comfort in his kiss, and in the long overdue apology. The last few days had been a nightmare, with memories and revelations coming at me faster than I could assimilate them. Then my conversation with Aurora resurfaced. I flattened my hands on his chest. “Dylan, no.”

I heard boots hit the porch and pushed harder.

“Well, damn. Looks like I’ve come at a bad time.”

Title Eve of Chaos

Author Livia Quinn


A seer predicts that Dinnschencha warrior Montana will meet a dark, dangerous stranger at the Mardi Gras ball and in walks Dark Knight Conor de Sept Flambé. With his gleaming muscles, dragon-scale tattoos, and magnificent flashing swords, this clan leader fulfilled his destiny when he traveled through centuries to claim his fated mate and ensure the Paramortals’ survival.

As Chaos—twenty-four hours when many Paramortals lose their power—fast approaches, Conor offers to prepare multi-shifter Montana for battle. Ready to fight for her family and town, nothing can prepare her for a war of the heart with a sexy dragon shifter who possesses an affinity for rock music and wants to show her his moves. Yeah, right. Sure, they can dance the night away, but their flames of desire threaten to scorch everything in sight. On the Eve of Chaos, as their passion burns, who will be left standing to fight?

A human sheriff, a dragon and a Dinnshencha warrior. Will it be enough to ward off the Paramortals' destruction?

"Oh my God, I loved this don't walk to the buy button!"


“That's what I thought,” the gnarly faced creature said. His eyes burned with hostility, the long needlelike incisors and tongue seeming larger as the muscles in his body bunched preparing to attack. He sprang, just as a hot whoosh of flame flashed across Montana’s vision. She’d had no time to jump back and as soon as she opened her eyes, she realized it was over.

Scorch marks marred the floor where the being had stood, ready to spring. Death from above! Everything had been annihilated in front of Montana except the woman on the floor and the fae's foot still propped on her chest. Pretty accurate aim. The woman’s one good eye opened and looked at the thing on her chest, rolled toward Montana and then rolled back in her head. Montana sighed and more smoke escaped.

“Did I do that?” she wondered out loud and looked down her snout at the still oozing tendrils of gray. A deep rumbling chuckle came from the ceiling and she looked up. The most beautiful creature she'd ever seen towered over her, leaning against what was left of the roof, dragon smugness, a special kind of arrogance singular to dragons, adorning his features. Well, he had a reason to be smug. He'd taken out half the roof and the variant in one fiery exhale without harming her or the woman on the floor.

“Oooh, you're good,” she acknowledged, giving him a slight bow.

“Lass, you dunnae ken the half o' it. Tell me. What made ye think ye could take on that Uuugly(scottish) faerie by yerself in yer wee fog drakon form?”

Fog. Hm. So she'd missed her target. “So that's why I couldn't produce the fire...” she said, more to herself. He took her measure intently; his eyes traveling over her lithe ten-foot dragon form just before it reverted to her Valkyrie sized naked warrior body. She thought he smiled. She stood perfectly still, unashamed of her nakedness.

A small stream of fire sizzled from his nostrils and his irises swirled. The head disappeared from view and Montana felt a pang of disappointment, then he returned with two tiny scraps of fabric—well, they looked tiny in his massive jaws. He opened his mouth just enough to allow the material to float down to her and she recognized her lingerie. You never knew where they were going to end up when you shifted. His eyes drifted down as he said, “I know your secret, Victoria.” Who would have thought a forty-foot dragon with a head the size of a house could wink and raise his…non-existent brow? “Better cover yourself, Lass. The coppers are coming.”

Title Blame it on the Moon #4

Author Livia Quinn


Is it Mayberry or Middle Earth? Well, duh…

It’s the height of the Para-moon, and Sheriff Jack Lang is up to his ‘six’ in alligators. Who is he kidding? Alligators he could handle, but supernatural bad guys? Ragtag doesn’t begin to describe his band of temporary heroes who show up at dawn to fight. If he has to go to war with this group, he has no doubt the battle to save the town, his daughter, his girlfriend, and the Paramortals ends before it begins.

With his girlfriend, Storm Witch Tempe Pomeroy, and the other Paramortals ill or incapacitated, the sudden appearance of unidentified beings bent on destruction rocks his former ideal of this quaint town even further. At the height of the Para-moon, Jack must keep the town of Destiny out of the hands of their enemies and ensure that the humans remain in the dark.

It’s only twenty-four hours. If worse comes to worse, he has a dragon on his side and a few surprises up his sleeve. But in Destiny, do things ever go as planned?

“This is my new favorite series!”


What? I can be humble…


“Um, I know you’d prefer to eat me more than listen to me, or divide me up with the clan…”

Petre growled, “I don’t share…”

I heard Conor swords slip out of their sheaths. Petre’s posture relaxed slightly. I said, “I was asked to inform you of the Chaos and beg your assistance.” Petre’s eyes flared and the view of his teeth became more prominent as he gave what I assumed - that comment seemed to give him particular pleasure.

And if birds could be said to roll their eyes, I would swear that’s what Petre’s Queen had aimed in his direction. Then Petre said, “Kneel, vampire.”


It wasn’t my imagination. The crowd of nasty looking fairies thought this conversation was the appetizer to the main course. My snide comment about the shakedown earlier might come back to bite me—literally. I’d have to be more careful in the future and more aware of species customs—if I made it past the next sixty-seconds. A tiny voice in my head, I’d like to think that was Arabella as well, said I’d been getting my way for too long.

“Uhnn…your highness, I’m sorry about my earlier insensitive comment. We could really—”

Petre shook his head no and drool escaped the toothy grins of some of the fae’s lips. He extended a hand that looked like a giant spider with its disjointed digits and large knuckles, and pointed the longest of four fingers at the floor.

I groaned inwardly and looked at Conor, who simply leaned on his giant sword and shrugged. I could almost hear him thinking, “Needs must”. Yeah, yeah.

Okay, what’s a little humble pie if it keeps you from being torn apart by a bunch of crazed fae? Watch them carefully, I knelt on the stone floor feeling the thrum of energy vibrating through the floor in pulsing waves.

“Can we talk now?” I asked Petre, beginning to get concerned.

He studied me briefly then satisfied, asked,”What were the exact words the Tempestaerie used?”

I repeated Phoebe’s message verbatim. “Vazar Aquilei vel Aq-ligea meile.” It was the old Paramortal language, to paraphrase it meant, Fae, get your asses over here and defend your Paramortal brothers. I waited for a signal from the fae King that my message has been accepted.

Subtle changes took place on his features and in the room’s atmosphere. It wouldn’t have been noticeable to most beings but I felt the shift from pure antagonism to something more positive. Petre said in his even, kingly voice,”Rise, Bratislava.”

Surprised that he knew my real name I looked at him. He was once again beautiful and if not cheerful, at least he looked hospitable, like he could skip the vampire au gratin.

Arabella appeared at my side in her fairy queen body. I wondered if Conor was affected by the Queen’s beauty or their glamour but when I looked his way, he remained impassive. He was really good.

“ok…WOW…just wow. This is my favorite one yet!”

Title Take These Broken Wings #5

Author Livia Quinn


Strap in ! ‘cause it’s a wild ride through Destiny, or should I say Middle Earth…

Not long ago, Sheriff Jack Lang would have sworn there were no such things as vampires, storm witches (tempestaeries), djinn or dragons. That was before he met Tempest Pomeroy, his sexy redheaded mail lady and trouble magnet. He’d fallen for her before he found out about her special abilities. But that wasn’t what turned his life upside down. His transformation into a supernatural being… Yep, that would do it.

Tempe had feared her supernatural nature would be a problem for Jack, who’d mistaken Destiny for a normal safe, small town. Turns out, Destiny is more paranormal then normal. But that didn’t explain why Jack left her in favor of haunting the highest levees in the parish. Sure, he’d received a shock, and Tempe's willing to do whatever it takes, but can she convince him to return to his life and to her?

A stubborn man was one thing, but a grumpy, depressed twenty-ton dragon presents a bit more of a challenge.

"Once you enter the world of Destiny, with all its interesting Paramortal characters, you will never want to leave."




The long cry intensified as it grew closer. Then a bright silver streak whizzed by me, the reason for the sound now apparent.

I watched my boyfriend, in silver dragon form, run toward the top of the levee at full speed—it was more like like a clumsy lope—and leap, sun sparkling like diamonds from his crystalline scales before he disappeared from sight. The sound cutoff abruptly followed by a huge splash. Zeus' missing molars!

I made it to the crown of the levee just in time to watch Jack plummet, wings flapping furiously—to no avail—into the river below. "Below" wasn't that far and "river" was too generous a word for the swampy backwater where he now sat, covered in duck weed and gumbo looking like a dejected dragon on a Saturday morning TV show. And tired. Poor baby.

His handsome dragon face turned up at me, beautiful silver green eyes revealing more than a little distress. I'd thought he could shift, but he hadn’t. Instead he pushed up out of the muck, his enormous backside making a loud wet swhuuuck as the gumbo released its hold.

I stood out of the line of fire while he gave a mighty shake and great globs of slimy mud flew in all directions, leaving his scales sparkling and shiny once again. At least he was getting a grasp of some aspects of his change, or it was instinct. His powerful hind legs lifted from the swampy water and one step at a time he walked toward me, then hopped onto the bank. The ground quaked. I widened my stance to keep from falling over. From my position on the levee I was nearly eye level with him.

"No luck, huh?" I asked.

He opened his mouth to speak and remembered he wasn't able to, yet. Our dragon friend, Conor, seemed to think speaking in his shifted form would come in time. Jack shook his crystal-bright head and rainbows bounced off the water.

"That sucks," I said, shading my eyes. He glared at me and I shrugged. "Sorry, no pun intended."

He turned away. A trudging dragon is a sorry sight. All of his frustration and uncertainty was apparent in the slump of his massive dragon shoulders, in the way his wings dropped to his sides, and in the ground-shaking thump of his feet. For a second I thought about having a t-shirt made for him with MY BUTT IS DRAGGIN' emblazoned on the front. I'm really not that mean, just as frustrated as my man.

"Jack. Wait." I ran down the levee after him as he plodded, a fatalistic air to his stride. Boom…thud, boom…thud.

Jack's problem, the disappointment that was eating at him after the initial hope that had helped him come to terms with his dragonness, was that he couldn't fly. He simply could not believe that a former Navy jet pilot-turned-dragon would not be a flying dragon. And obviously, it wasn't for lack of trying.

I'll never forget the first time I saw him in his backyard under the moonlight looking alternately disconcerted and elated. He'd denied the elated part right off, because it simply wouldn't do to admit that as much as he wanted to fly again, admitting to the desire to fly as a dragon would just not do. First he had to admit he was a dragon. Maybe I could find him a dragons anonymous meeting. His problem is denial. Jack is old hands with the emotion.

I watched his steady progress toward the woods. He'd apparently given up for the day. The sun was rising and humans would be about. I wished he’d return to his job as sheriff of Destiny. That and his parental responsibilities would keep him grounded. Oh, Zeus, another pun.


Title Blood Moon, #6

Author Livia Quinn


There's a new warrior in town. Dressed in red leather, the stunning violet-eyed fae saunters into Destiny’s supernatural tavern carrying a giant head-splitter of a sword. Her mission is to slay a dragonhunter and she accuses djinn River Pomeroy of protecting her target.

River feels an instant attraction to Cinder and relief from the despair that's served as his only companion since his rescue from kidnappers by his sister Tempe and Sheriff Lang. But with her news, his sense of doom returns. It’ll take more than three wishes to get him out of this mess. You see, River has a secret and ample reason for staying silent. No matter what he does, his enthrallment promises devastating consequences for his family and the other Paramortals.

After his sister and the dragon sheriff go missing, River and Cinder join forces. But history has a way of coming full circle and the past brings shattering revelations about the dragonhunter’s true identity.

Can they forgive the past to overcome their common enemy or will the news tear their relationship and the Paramortals apart forever?


She sidled in next to him, not scared in the least. His stomach muscles tightened when he got his first whiff of her scent, something powerful and exotic, and it slammed into him like a straight-line wind. If he hadn't been propped on the bar he would've been knocked off his feet, which made his scowl deepen.

Her delicate brow rose and with a knowing smirk—it looked like that to him anyway—she said, "Sorry to interrupt your solitary pity-party but I'm looking for someone. Perhaps you've seen him?" Her gaze never wavered from his and River wondered if she'd been following him.

He eased back on his stool and slouched indolently against the bar, raising the glass to his lips with half lidded eyes. "And I care because..."

She rolled her eyes, long dark lashes nearly touching her eyebrows. The huge violet orbs returned to his, fearless and challenging, and sarcasm dripped from her lips in a lovely mesmerizing accent. "Oh, I didn't expect you to care after studying you for the last twenty minutes, but don't expect me to leave any stone unturned."

So, she'd been watching him for that long. River resisted shaking his head in wonder. He'd been so absorbed in his new problem, she'd slipped up on him. Emotions continued to beat at him, turning his gut to acid. He set the glass down and raised his head, openly studying her. Not a local, judging by her dialect, but she was a real badass. He grinned, guessing it would turn that redheaded temper up a notch. "Would you like a drink?"

Squinting up at him, she asked, "Why do you try to distract me with drink? I sense you are hiding something. Have you seen him? It would not be wise to obfuscate."

He might have flinched under her fierce gaze if he hadn't been struck by her choice of words. Obfuscate—hide the truth. Once again, River steeled himself not to react under that wild glare, wondering if she was one of many with some mind-reading ability. Was she some kind of faerie with those violet eyes? They were similar to Arabella's, the queen of the Fae and Tempe's friend. If so, she might already know what he was hiding. He maintained his expression of aloofness.

Receiving no response from him, she cursed succinctly and motioned to the bartender who walked to the end of the bar and produced her long sword. She turned toward him and River expected her to reach for it but with a slight tilt of her chin the sword left the bartender's hands and sank into the sheath on her back…sliding home.

Her head swiveled back to him. "Now, I must leave, per the rules. But first, I want you to tell me when you last saw this man." She whipped out a beige piece of parchment and an image formed, drawn skillfully with magical inks. He sensed it on the paper and was careful not to touch it.

She'd said when not if. River remained stoic as the elemental ink became bolder and the spaces filled in to reveal the face of the being he'd spoken to just hours before—Styx. He couldn't lie so

he deflected, "What is he to you?"

The high arch of one perfect brow preceded her answer. "Oh, me?" she said in a beautiful lilting cadence. "I'm what you might call a dragonhunter hunter. I'm going to take his head."

“I’m addicted to this series!”

Buy Blood Moon today on Amazon #Free on Kindle Unlimited:

Author Bio

DC native, Livia Quinn moved to the wilds of Louisiana where the weather and culture of the region inspired her settings and her jobs as a mail carrier, salesperson, plant manager, business owner and professional singer provided fodder for her chacters. She finished her first novel the summer of Katrina and has written six books in the Paramortals and six in her Men of Honor series. See her Amazon page for the complete list. On the bayou, she is protected from the snakes, alligators and bears by her husband and feisty Pomeranian, Dusty.

Connect with Livia:

Livia Quinn Readers Group

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