Please welcome Piper Maitland to Among the Muses, to talk about her wonderful new release, ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT!
"A fantastic read. Smart and sophisticated … A Da Vinci Code-esque adventure with a fresh take on vampirism and an emotional, sexy romance."
~ Virna De Paul, author of Chosen by Blood
"Bulgarian vampires and nonstop sex (not with Bulgarian vampires), PLUS an illuminated lost manuscript, in a twisty tale of family mystery, murder, and corporate greed."
~ Diana Gabaldon, New York Times bestselling author of the Outlander series.
~*~*~*~
Welcome to Among the Muses, Piper. Please tell readers a little bit about how you got started writing.
I started writing when I was a freshman in college. I put an old Royal typewriter on my mother's dining room table, and when she got ready to have a dinner party, she told me to clean up my mess and help her with the placesettings. I ended up getting a BS in nursing (again, thanks to my mom, who said, "If your future husband dies, you'll need a career to 'fall back on'.") But I wrote horror stories in an airless closet, and papered the walls with rejection slips. I wrote a decade before a poem was published in Cosmopolitan magazine. When I was 38 years old, my first novel was published. To this day, I keep Marge Piercy's poem, "For the Young Who Want to" over my desk--her words keep me going. Two decades later, I began writing Acquainted With the Night. At my agent's suggestion, I used a pen name (because my usual fiction is Southern and humorous). I chose the surname Maitland for my husband's Scottish family, and Piper for my own Scottish forebears and because I adore bagpipe music.
Please tell readers about your fantastic new release, ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT.
The pages of history are written in the blood of the undead…
A woman’s quest for the truth…
A medieval icon that holds the clues…
An ancient book with the power to shake Christianity—and humanity itself…
Caroline Clifford’s bland life as a London tour guide flips upside down when her beloved uncle is brutally murdered at a Bulgarian archeological site. While traveling to recover his remains, she meets a man who corresponded with her uncle. Jude Barrett is a biochemist on a mission—to eradicate the world of vampires…
At first, Caro is dismissive of Jude’s beliefs, but she can’t ignore the signs around her—the human bites on her uncle, the strange men following her, the anguished cries after sundown. Strange anagrams on her uncle’s passport lead her and Jude to a cliff-top monastery in Greece, where a shattering revelation connects a relic Caro inherited from her parents to an age-old text on immortality—and an enigmatic prophecy that pits the forces of darkness and light in a showdown that could destroy them all…
Acquainted with evil…
“You can’t kill me, old fool,” Georgi said.
Old fool? Caro twisted her head. The monk stood in the doorway, aiming a crossbow.
“Caroline, move out of the way,” Father Aeneas said, his voice low and controlled. Smoke billowed above his head and scattered into the dark. The feeling was creeping back into Caro's limbs. Gritting her teeth, she flattened her shoulders against the balcony rail.
The arrow whizzed through the air and thudded into Georgi’s chest. It made a hollow sound, like thumping a melon. His long fingers curled around the shaft. Blood surged around his fist and streamed down the front of her trousers. A second arrow slammed into his chest, inches from the first. He staggered backward across the terrace and toppled over the rail. Caro’s arms tingled as she rose up and peered over the ledge. Georgi rolled down the embankment. Cracking noises echoed as his body plowed through brush and stumpy trees.
“Vrykolakas,” Father Aeneas said.
Until now, Caro had not known how to pronounce that word. It sounded sinister yet exotic on the holy man’s tongue: vree KO la Kahss. Vampire.
You can see several short videos here: http://www.youtube.com/user/PiperMaitland
A woman’s quest for the truth…
A medieval icon that holds the clues…
An ancient book with the power to shake Christianity—and humanity itself…
Caroline Clifford’s bland life as a London tour guide flips upside down when her beloved uncle is brutally murdered at a Bulgarian archeological site. While traveling to recover his remains, she meets a man who corresponded with her uncle. Jude Barrett is a biochemist on a mission—to eradicate the world of vampires…
At first, Caro is dismissive of Jude’s beliefs, but she can’t ignore the signs around her—the human bites on her uncle, the strange men following her, the anguished cries after sundown. Strange anagrams on her uncle’s passport lead her and Jude to a cliff-top monastery in Greece, where a shattering revelation connects a relic Caro inherited from her parents to an age-old text on immortality—and an enigmatic prophecy that pits the forces of darkness and light in a showdown that could destroy them all…
Acquainted with evil…
“You can’t kill me, old fool,” Georgi said.
Old fool? Caro twisted her head. The monk stood in the doorway, aiming a crossbow.
“Caroline, move out of the way,” Father Aeneas said, his voice low and controlled. Smoke billowed above his head and scattered into the dark. The feeling was creeping back into Caro's limbs. Gritting her teeth, she flattened her shoulders against the balcony rail.
The arrow whizzed through the air and thudded into Georgi’s chest. It made a hollow sound, like thumping a melon. His long fingers curled around the shaft. Blood surged around his fist and streamed down the front of her trousers. A second arrow slammed into his chest, inches from the first. He staggered backward across the terrace and toppled over the rail. Caro’s arms tingled as she rose up and peered over the ledge. Georgi rolled down the embankment. Cracking noises echoed as his body plowed through brush and stumpy trees.
“Vrykolakas,” Father Aeneas said.
Until now, Caro had not known how to pronounce that word. It sounded sinister yet exotic on the holy man’s tongue: vree KO la Kahss. Vampire.
You can see several short videos here: http://www.youtube.com/user/PiperMaitland
You did a fabulous job at creating on-the-edge-of-your-seat suspense throughout the book. Did you know how you wanted the plot to unfold, or did the characters and events themselves help move you along?
I totally pantstered the book. That meant I had to do extensive rewriting. I only started with Jude and Caro. I was shocked when the vampire Moose Tipper showed up (and threatened to take over the story). Writing a paranormal/thriller was the hardest thing I'd ever done--and I'd written quite a few books. I knew I had a long road ahead of me, a rather bumpy one, so I took a year-long mentoring class with NYT bestselling author Lori Wilde, and I also attended workshops. It was the best thing I ever did. The writing is still hard, but I am excited. I can't wait to keep learning. For the second book in the series, I wrote an extensive outline and synopsis. No more pantstering. :-)
I absolutely loved the concept behind this fabulous new release, ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT! It's intricate, edgy, suspenseful, mysterious, sexy, and highly engaging! Please tell us readers what the inspiration was behind the creation of this great story.
I have a BS in nursing, but I've never used my medical background in my previous books. I'm married to a physician, and our son is a biochemist. Our conversations often centered around cloning, stem cells, MRSA, and H1N1. One day I was driving to the grocery with my son, and I told him I was dying to write a novel about vampires. We bounced ideas back and forth. Caro Clifford was born in the Public Grocery bakery. By the time I'd checked out, I knew that Jude Barrett would be a biochemist and that he would discovery the R-99 gene, which was responsible for vampirism. I had fun with other aspects, too--I gave vampires a unique smell (and the result on humans is rather like cat nip--or bat nip, as Caro calls it). When I ran into a scientific wall, my husband would explain phenotypes and genotypes. I'd go write something, then I'd show it to my in-house experts, and they'd tell me where fantasy had gone too far. I really tried to make the science plausible, and I had fun with it, too.
Because of the nature of the story line, please share with readers the who, or what, is the antagonist in the story.
Harry Wilkerson is the CEO of Wilkerson Pharmaceuticals, and he needs two ancient artifacts--an icon and pages from an 8th century illustrated manuscript to complete his anti-aging research. He discovers that the main character, Caro Clifford, might possess these artifacts, and chases her all over Europe.
Can you tell readers a little bit more about the world building in the story? Because of the paranormal aspects integrated within a contemporary backdrop, did you find any challenges or obstacles you had to overcome?
I'd visited places in the book, and I'd pinned my photographs to a bulletin board. I also went through magazines, tore out pages, and pinned them to the board. I am visually oriented, so these boards were jumping off points. But I still had to do extensive research. I wanted to make Jude and Caro's travels as authentic as possible, so I studied maps, looked up real hotels and cafes, and studied various cuisines (I am a foodie, so this was the best fun ever--I hated cutting the food stuff. :-) ). I remembered the lessons from Magic Realism and tried to ground the characters in a world that served high tea at Harrod's, so the paranormal aspects would flow along and hopefully feel normal. I had tremendous fun decorating a vampire's mansion (it has a game room and a virtual golf course), right down to the color choices (black, white, and red).
From the setting(s) to events, to objects, it is obvious that you had to put a lot of thought and research into creating the book. What was one of the most interesting things you learned while creating the story?
Many odd things happened while I was writing this book. In a strange way, this is one thing that kept me going. I knew that I wanted to place a villa on an isolated island near Venice, but all of them (or so I'd thought) were populated. I was shocked to discover that a ruined villa near Isla Murano was for sale--along with the tiny island. When I saw photographs of the sea wall and the old manse, they were exactly as I'd "seen" them in my mind's eye.
The development of the hero and heroine was great! Was there a particular lesson or growth aspect that was important to you in how the two protagonists developed?
Jude Barrett had every reason in the world to hate vampires, but I wanted to push him to the limit and make him overcome his prejudice. Caro privately thought of herself as Dame Doom--everyone around her seemed to die, and every romance she'd had went sour. Caro's journey was to learn that she was responsible for her own destiny--and she could change it. I also wanted Caro to find her funny bone and to be able to laugh at herself. For example, one boyfriend (his name was Chip) became a priest and went to Monaco--he sent her a postcard that showed a casino, and he signed the card, Love, Chip Monk.
Can you leave readers with a little teaser of ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT?
P R O L O G U E
PERPERIKON ARCHAEOLOGICAL COMPLEX
EASTERN RHODOPE MOUNTAINS, BULGARIA
Nigel Clifford dragged his trowel through the frozen rubble, coaxing potsherds to the surface. The freezing November wind scraped over the excavation site, tugging at his fedora and chilling his hands. Nigel put on gloves and kept digging. He’d just celebrated his seventy- second birthday, and he was better suited to armchair archaeology than fieldwork, but he loved dirt: its texture, the loamy smell, the way it packed under his nails, and the sour, acidic flavor it left in his mouth. The soil yielded more than history; it was the repository of man’s secrets. He worked until sunset, tagging the pottery bits. As he gathered his tools, darkness seeped out of the ground, twisted through gnarled branches, and plunged the mountain into leaden dusk. A ticklish sensation crept up his neck and he cut his gaze to the ledge above him. A figure melted into the shadows. Pebbles hit the path and skittered into the ravine.
Nigel’s heart stuttered. Someone was watching, he was sure of it. Despite the glacial evening air, perspiration slid down his neck. He squinted at the ruins. A whirring noise echoed as bats swarmed out of the cave and skimmed over the excavation pit. Nigel tipped back his fedora and watched them scatter into the bruised sky. He’d never seen large colonies in the Rhodopes, especially in November— why so many? And what had disturbed them?
His chest tightened and pain stitched down his left arm. Damned ruddy angina. He pulled off his gloves, pushed a nitroglycerin tablet under his tongue, and hummed “God Save the Queen.” He’d come to Perperikon to clear his mind with clay idols and bronze arrows, but after a fortnight of digging, he’d found nothing but potsherds. A pity he couldn’t stay in Bulgaria, but a distressing personal matter awaited him in England.
After the spasm passed, he lifted his backpack, climbed out of the pit, and hurried toward the path. He didn’t notice the men until they stepped onto the fl at boulders above him and stared down with toothy smiles. In the fading light, the duo resembled an Eastern European version of the Blues Brothers— sunglasses, skinny black ties, sport coats. Years ago, Nigel’s niece had loved that old film, but the chaps on the rocks weren’t cinema actors. They emanated a stygian stink, of earth and beetles and rot.
Steady, old boy. The professor tipped his fedora and strode past the boulder, praying this would be the end of it. The men stood motionless until Nigel passed directly beneath their position, and then they moved swiftly. Too swiftly to see. He started to run, but a black haze blurred past him. Dust spiraled into the air as the men thudded onto the path. Like the bats. A twinge shot to Nigel’s elbow and he grimaced.
“I’m looking for a British archaeologist,” the taller man said, each word drilled with a Balkan accent. The wind shifted, carrying the echo of a howling dog. The barbed notes sharpened, and a second animal moaned in the distance.
“How may I help you?” Nigel’s breath stamped the air. His right knee shook violently, and the tip of his boot dented the rubble. Not to worry, old boy. Not yet. Though it could get sticky if these chaps were thieves. The man glided forward, his coat rustling. “Where are you hiding your niece?”
Oh, no. Please, no. Nigel’s vision narrowed to an obsidian dot. “Sorry, I don’t have a niece.”
“Yes, you do. Caroline Clifford stole ten pages from Historia Immortalis.”
The man knew her name, knew about the book. What were the odds? Nigel’s jaw tightened and he nipped his tongue. If you didn’t wish to grow old, if you preferred a short but interesting life, get yourself mixed up with Historia Immortalis. Each cursed page attracted death— ironic for a tome that celebrated immortality. Twenty years ago, Caro’s parents had died because of it, and she’d barely escaped.
The tall fellow waved two long fi ngers. “Teo, check his backpack.”
“Da.” Teo wrenched Nigel’s bag from his shoulders. Everything spilled onto the path. Pens, documents, tools, medicine bottles, his tattered copy of Herodotus. Blood oozed into Nigel’s mouth. He swallowed, tasting the iron. Two decades of plotting and planning had just gone tits up, and this was how it would end? He gazed past the men, down the winding path. Could he make it down the mountain? He had to try. His need to protect Caro was stronger than life. Stronger than the threat of his own death.
Teo smashed Nigel’s mobile phone against a rock, then lifted a medicine bottle. “Georgi, what is Warfarin? We can sell it, yes?”
“Take it.” Georgi waved his bony hand.
Teo kicked aside a British passport, reached for a tattered leather wallet, and pulled out a photograph. Nigel swallowed again as he gazed up at Caro’s much- younger face. She was his heart, this clever slip of a girl. He remembered the day that picture had been taken and how she’d struggled to tame her wiry blond hair into a strict, shining knot.
“No niece?” Teo laughed and held up another snapshot. It had been taken a few months prior in London. Caro had grown into a beauty, all legs and cheekbones, with her mother’s gray- blue eyes. The corkscrew curls were still incorrigible and tumbled past her shoulders. She was just like that hair, feisty and resilient, but she was no match for these fiends. Georgi grabbed the picture and licked it. “Nice,” he said.
“Go after her,” Nigel said, “and you’ll get a bite more than you can chew.”
Georgi shoved the photograph into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Teo knocked off Nigel’s fedora, then threw him to the ground and pulled off his boots. Nigel felt a violent tug on his ankle, as if a meat hook had snagged it. White- hot spasms pulsed in his heel, rippled into his calf, and throbbed behind his knee. He arched his back and screamed. Bile spurted through his teeth and splashed onto the rocks. Had they hacked off his leg? His head jerked convulsively as he glanced over his shoulder. Blood jetted from a gash above his heel. Dear God, they’d severed his Achilles tendon.
“He wails like a girl,” Teo said, then threw his weight onto the professor’s legs. Georgi dragged the knife over Nigel’s other tendon. A stinging burst of pain slammed into his groin. His bladder let go and warmth gushed down his thighs.
Damn them to hell. To distract himself from the raw ache, he hummed “God Save the Queen.”
“Shut up, old man,” Georgi cried.
Nigel’s lips wobbled, then he began to sing as loud as he could. “From every latent foe / From the assassins’ blow / God save the Queen!” And God save Caro, too. Sour breath hit his face as the men fell on him, one on each side. His voice didn’t falter until the men bit his neck. He tried to push them away but his arms wouldn’t move. Even his feet went numb. A blessing.
Georgi veered away and spat onto the rocks. “Your blood tastes bitter.”
Teo jerked back and began dry- heaving onto the stones. “You’re tasting my medication,” Nigel said through gritted teeth. “Nitroglycerin and Warfarin. Soon your capillaries will dilate, and your blood will run like wine.” Teo balled his hands into fi sts and stepped forward, his incisors glinting in the moonlight. They weren’t that big, Nigel noted. Stubby little fangs that matched the man’s physique.
“No, let him bleed.” Georgi scooped up the fedora and shoved it onto Teo’s head, then turned back to Nigel. “Tonight you will die. Tomorrow, I find your niece. And it will be so sweet.”
The dogs bayed as the men headed down the rocky path. Nigel dragged himself over the cold, rough stones. Perperikon was an ancient place of fi re, prophecy, and blood sacrifice— a fitting end for an old tomb raider. But he couldn’t die. Not yet.
I must warn Caro. Something only she will understand. His fingers closed on the penlight; he fi t it between his teeth and bit down. The beam sliced over his passport and pens. He grabbed them and searched the book for a blank page. His hand shook as he started to write. She’d need to fit the puzzle pieces together before anyone else did. Before those ghouls found her. He had waited two decades to tell Caro the truth. Now the dogs were closing in, and he only had minutes and a scrap of paper.
PERPERIKON ARCHAEOLOGICAL COMPLEX
EASTERN RHODOPE MOUNTAINS, BULGARIA
Nigel Clifford dragged his trowel through the frozen rubble, coaxing potsherds to the surface. The freezing November wind scraped over the excavation site, tugging at his fedora and chilling his hands. Nigel put on gloves and kept digging. He’d just celebrated his seventy- second birthday, and he was better suited to armchair archaeology than fieldwork, but he loved dirt: its texture, the loamy smell, the way it packed under his nails, and the sour, acidic flavor it left in his mouth. The soil yielded more than history; it was the repository of man’s secrets. He worked until sunset, tagging the pottery bits. As he gathered his tools, darkness seeped out of the ground, twisted through gnarled branches, and plunged the mountain into leaden dusk. A ticklish sensation crept up his neck and he cut his gaze to the ledge above him. A figure melted into the shadows. Pebbles hit the path and skittered into the ravine.
Nigel’s heart stuttered. Someone was watching, he was sure of it. Despite the glacial evening air, perspiration slid down his neck. He squinted at the ruins. A whirring noise echoed as bats swarmed out of the cave and skimmed over the excavation pit. Nigel tipped back his fedora and watched them scatter into the bruised sky. He’d never seen large colonies in the Rhodopes, especially in November— why so many? And what had disturbed them?
His chest tightened and pain stitched down his left arm. Damned ruddy angina. He pulled off his gloves, pushed a nitroglycerin tablet under his tongue, and hummed “God Save the Queen.” He’d come to Perperikon to clear his mind with clay idols and bronze arrows, but after a fortnight of digging, he’d found nothing but potsherds. A pity he couldn’t stay in Bulgaria, but a distressing personal matter awaited him in England.
After the spasm passed, he lifted his backpack, climbed out of the pit, and hurried toward the path. He didn’t notice the men until they stepped onto the fl at boulders above him and stared down with toothy smiles. In the fading light, the duo resembled an Eastern European version of the Blues Brothers— sunglasses, skinny black ties, sport coats. Years ago, Nigel’s niece had loved that old film, but the chaps on the rocks weren’t cinema actors. They emanated a stygian stink, of earth and beetles and rot.
Steady, old boy. The professor tipped his fedora and strode past the boulder, praying this would be the end of it. The men stood motionless until Nigel passed directly beneath their position, and then they moved swiftly. Too swiftly to see. He started to run, but a black haze blurred past him. Dust spiraled into the air as the men thudded onto the path. Like the bats. A twinge shot to Nigel’s elbow and he grimaced.
“I’m looking for a British archaeologist,” the taller man said, each word drilled with a Balkan accent. The wind shifted, carrying the echo of a howling dog. The barbed notes sharpened, and a second animal moaned in the distance.
“How may I help you?” Nigel’s breath stamped the air. His right knee shook violently, and the tip of his boot dented the rubble. Not to worry, old boy. Not yet. Though it could get sticky if these chaps were thieves. The man glided forward, his coat rustling. “Where are you hiding your niece?”
Oh, no. Please, no. Nigel’s vision narrowed to an obsidian dot. “Sorry, I don’t have a niece.”
“Yes, you do. Caroline Clifford stole ten pages from Historia Immortalis.”
The man knew her name, knew about the book. What were the odds? Nigel’s jaw tightened and he nipped his tongue. If you didn’t wish to grow old, if you preferred a short but interesting life, get yourself mixed up with Historia Immortalis. Each cursed page attracted death— ironic for a tome that celebrated immortality. Twenty years ago, Caro’s parents had died because of it, and she’d barely escaped.
The tall fellow waved two long fi ngers. “Teo, check his backpack.”
“Da.” Teo wrenched Nigel’s bag from his shoulders. Everything spilled onto the path. Pens, documents, tools, medicine bottles, his tattered copy of Herodotus. Blood oozed into Nigel’s mouth. He swallowed, tasting the iron. Two decades of plotting and planning had just gone tits up, and this was how it would end? He gazed past the men, down the winding path. Could he make it down the mountain? He had to try. His need to protect Caro was stronger than life. Stronger than the threat of his own death.
Teo smashed Nigel’s mobile phone against a rock, then lifted a medicine bottle. “Georgi, what is Warfarin? We can sell it, yes?”
“Take it.” Georgi waved his bony hand.
Teo kicked aside a British passport, reached for a tattered leather wallet, and pulled out a photograph. Nigel swallowed again as he gazed up at Caro’s much- younger face. She was his heart, this clever slip of a girl. He remembered the day that picture had been taken and how she’d struggled to tame her wiry blond hair into a strict, shining knot.
“No niece?” Teo laughed and held up another snapshot. It had been taken a few months prior in London. Caro had grown into a beauty, all legs and cheekbones, with her mother’s gray- blue eyes. The corkscrew curls were still incorrigible and tumbled past her shoulders. She was just like that hair, feisty and resilient, but she was no match for these fiends. Georgi grabbed the picture and licked it. “Nice,” he said.
“Go after her,” Nigel said, “and you’ll get a bite more than you can chew.”
Georgi shoved the photograph into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Teo knocked off Nigel’s fedora, then threw him to the ground and pulled off his boots. Nigel felt a violent tug on his ankle, as if a meat hook had snagged it. White- hot spasms pulsed in his heel, rippled into his calf, and throbbed behind his knee. He arched his back and screamed. Bile spurted through his teeth and splashed onto the rocks. Had they hacked off his leg? His head jerked convulsively as he glanced over his shoulder. Blood jetted from a gash above his heel. Dear God, they’d severed his Achilles tendon.
“He wails like a girl,” Teo said, then threw his weight onto the professor’s legs. Georgi dragged the knife over Nigel’s other tendon. A stinging burst of pain slammed into his groin. His bladder let go and warmth gushed down his thighs.
Damn them to hell. To distract himself from the raw ache, he hummed “God Save the Queen.”
“Shut up, old man,” Georgi cried.
Nigel’s lips wobbled, then he began to sing as loud as he could. “From every latent foe / From the assassins’ blow / God save the Queen!” And God save Caro, too. Sour breath hit his face as the men fell on him, one on each side. His voice didn’t falter until the men bit his neck. He tried to push them away but his arms wouldn’t move. Even his feet went numb. A blessing.
Georgi veered away and spat onto the rocks. “Your blood tastes bitter.”
Teo jerked back and began dry- heaving onto the stones. “You’re tasting my medication,” Nigel said through gritted teeth. “Nitroglycerin and Warfarin. Soon your capillaries will dilate, and your blood will run like wine.” Teo balled his hands into fi sts and stepped forward, his incisors glinting in the moonlight. They weren’t that big, Nigel noted. Stubby little fangs that matched the man’s physique.
“No, let him bleed.” Georgi scooped up the fedora and shoved it onto Teo’s head, then turned back to Nigel. “Tonight you will die. Tomorrow, I find your niece. And it will be so sweet.”
The dogs bayed as the men headed down the rocky path. Nigel dragged himself over the cold, rough stones. Perperikon was an ancient place of fi re, prophecy, and blood sacrifice— a fitting end for an old tomb raider. But he couldn’t die. Not yet.
I must warn Caro. Something only she will understand. His fingers closed on the penlight; he fi t it between his teeth and bit down. The beam sliced over his passport and pens. He grabbed them and searched the book for a blank page. His hand shook as he started to write. She’d need to fit the puzzle pieces together before anyone else did. Before those ghouls found her. He had waited two decades to tell Caro the truth. Now the dogs were closing in, and he only had minutes and a scrap of paper.
Where can readers find you in the virtual world?
You can find out more about the book, such as the biochemistry of vampirism and character sketches, at my website: http://www.pipermaitland.com/
You can also find me at:
You can also find me at:
The Night blog: http://acquaintedwiththenightbypipermaitland.blogspot.com/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/PiperMaitland
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/PiperMaitland
Youtube (a series of short book videos): http://www.youtube.com/user/PiperMaitland
What do you have planned next in terms of writing?
I am working on the second book in the Night Series, A Requiem for Daylight.
Giveaway Details:
- Publisher, Penguin, is gifting one lucky US commenter a print copy of ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT!
- Please leave a comment along with your email addy.
- Contest is open to US residents only.
- Contest will run from 12/2 - 12/5 11:59pm EST.
- Winner will be randomly selected and notified via email.









12 comments:
The book sounds like an exciting read. I'm glad I've met you here and found out about Acquainted With The Night.I'm looking forward to reading it.
Carol L
Lucky4750 (at) aol (dot) com
The quotes from reader's alone had me sold that this book is going to be fantastic! Thanks for the giveaway!!!
yadkny@hotmail.com
I am so glad to meet you, Ms. Maitland. Thoroughly enjoyed the interview and what an amazing excerpt!
How did you celebrate the release of Acquainted With the Night? Since it was such a long journey, I hope it was a spectacular celebration.
Thank you for the giveaway. I'm really looking forward to reading this story.
The book really sounds good. I can't wait to read it. Please enter me in contest. Tore923@aol.com
I enjoyed the interview and I'm looking forward to reading Acquainted with the Night. I've been hearing such great things about this book and I can't wait to read it.
Barbed1951 at aol dot com
I love the sound of this book, and read good things about it. I don't reread a lot of thriller/suspense, but something about this book just begs to be read!
I like how you picked your pen name for his book, a nice nod to your heratige. And it sounds cute!
Thanks for the chance to win a copy of this book!
eyesofblueice (at) gmail (dot) com
Sounds really great! I love a good suspense book. I'd love to be entered.
old gfc follower
mlawson17 at hotmail dot com
Sounds very suspenseful and intriguing! Thanks for the giveaway.
lgm52@hotmail.com
I was hooked after reading the blurb, then I was pulled after reading the Prologue.
I'm adding this to my must have list.
Thanks,
Tracey D
booklover0226 at gmail dot com
This is the first I've heard of this book but it really sounds like something I would enjoy reading!! Thanks so much for bringing it to my attention, and for the awesome giveaway:)
jwitt33 at live dot com
What a great excerpt. I was squirming in my seat when Nigel was getting attacked! I'd love to read the entire book!
MJB
msmjb65AT gmail DOT com
I love these kinds of books! I must read it, it sounds so good!
mom1248(at)att(dot)net
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