Today I have a special blog. I'm hosting the lovely Alisha Paige here. Alisha is published with The Wild Rose Press and her book from the Black Rose line: Nocturnally Vexed (see excerpt at end of blog). You can learn more about Alisha by visiting her web site at: Alisha Paige
http://www.alishapaige.com/.
I interviewed Alisha and I hope you'll enjoy getting to know this author of dark paranormal a lot better. - Roni Adams
Roni: Can you tell us a little bit about your childhood? Favorite memories?
Alisha: I grew up with three brothers so I’ve learned to have a lot of patience and feel like I had a leg up on understanding boys and men. I also learned that it’s okay to get muddy. It’ll all come out in the wash. I think my brothers taught me to not take life so serious and to have fun.
Roni: I think growing up with brothers gives you a real headstart when it comes to writing from the heroes point of view, that’s for sure!
Tell us about the hero and heroine in your latest release.
Alisha: Vex Savaker is half shifter, half vamp and works as a detective for the Metropolitan Police in London. He has the ability to read DNA by scanning the spine of any living creature with his eyes, a very cool technique to possess in London where night creatures rule. He’s investigating recent murders in the White Chapel District, the same area where Jack-the-Ripper killed a hundred years ago. Jack is back but this time he’s killing virgins, not prostitutes.
Chastity “Chass” Worthington is a reporter for The Daily Mirror and is working on a hot tip about the murders that could send her to the top but Vex is trying to keep her from nosing into the murders. He thinks she’s next on Jack’s list and he’s positively certain that she’s on HIS list of must haves.
Roni: Love the twist you are putting on the serial killer – killing virgins. What a unique idea. I love it when an author can take something and make it brand new. Good job. Sounds like a great story.
If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would they be?
Alisha: Long life and much happiness for all of my family and can I have just one book on the NY Times Best Seller’s List?
Roni: If you could go anywhere to tomorrow, where would you go?
Alisha: Tahiti on a honeymoon with husband. We’re going to do it one day.
Roni: If you could see anyone tomorrow (dead or alive), who would it be?
Alisha: My grandfather. He died in 2001 and I miss him so much. He was such a wonderful man and I can still hear him talking about WWII and the way he would say bombs. “Those bums were all around us.” I loved his country accent. Pe-can pie was another favorite. And wash was wursh.
Roni: If you could choose six people to spend one week on a desert island, who would it be and why?
Alisha: My husband, my two daughters and my son. My good friend Cheryl and her honey, Billy so we could have a camp fire every night and roast marshmallows and talk until dawn.
Roni: Aren’t campfire conversations sometimes the best? What is it about being outdoors with the dark around you that inspires such profound or even just silly conversation. That sounds great Alisha.
What word or phrase tingles in all the right places for you?
Alisha: Mine.
Roni: ohhhh very nice.
If you had one day to spoil yourself, what would you do?
Alisha: Go to a winery with my husband, taste vintage wine and then have a couple’s massage on the beach and then back to the hotel room with a giant balcony overlooking the ocean with candles glowing where we can sip wine, chat and kiss all night.
Roni: If you could change one incident in your life, what would it be?
Alisha: There’s too many to count. I think we all make mistakes in life but I’m not one of those people that will say that I wouldn’t change any of them or I wouldn’t be the way I am today. Very true. I might be less jaded and more like a child if I had not gone through so much. I try to watch my children and remember how beautiful and sweet life is in the early days and remember to strive for that in life.
Roni: Great advice for anyone Alisha. I think that everyone can learn from their past mistakes, but hey if we could go back and not make them why not?
What’s the sexiest thing a man has ever done for you or said to you or both?
Alisha: When I first met my husband, he lived next door to me. He came over and talked to me as I sat on the front porch and watched my daughter play. I was a single mom and my daughter was six years old at the time. We barely knew each other but as he sat beside me, he noticed that one of my snow boots was untied and he reached down, grabbed my foot and tied it without asking, then he patted my foot and put it back. It was so touching. I could see that he cared about me and just too the initiative. I love that about my man.
Roni – I think I would have known right then and there he was “mine” too. – lol.
Excerpt from Nocturnally Vexed
Chapter OneKing’s Cross Station, London, England, 2006“He’s killed again, Vex.”Vex stared at the grainy black-and-white photos, taken one hundred and eighteen years earlier, comparing them to full color photos taken last night. Detective Red O’Malley had no choice but to ask for his help. Vex was their last resort. He was used to dealing with the undead, whether it be of the bloodsucker variety or the elusive shifter-rapt; after all, he was a combination of the two.
“I don’t understand,” Vex mumbled, half to himself.“We think it’s the same guy,” O’Malley added.“Not just a copycat?”
“We have DNA to back it up.”
Vex’s head shot up as he looked the detective squarely in the eye. “Then why can’t you bloody catch him?”
“We matched DNA from the Whitechapel murders to this murder, but back in 1888, there was no database in play. And so far, this guy’s been clean. At least in this century.”
“Where’d you get the DNA?”
“A piece of hair. Well, a tiny fragment of hair. Less than a centimeter, found trapped in the wax he sealed the letter with.”
“The famous letter to the police? The one promising to kill again?” Vex asked, catching on quickly.
“Yes. For years the letter was thought to be a fake.”
“DNA evidence is hard to dispute,” Vex argued.O’Malley nodded. “Particularly in this case. It’s a perfect match.”
“Where was the DNA evidence on the recent victim?”
“Semen.”“
Semen? That’s odd. Jack’s never raped before,” Vex replied, scratching his chin.
“Yeah, well he has now. Three times in a row.”
“Looks like he still enjoys pulling out the intestines, uterus and organs,” Vex added while flipping through the photos.
“And mutilating the victim’s face,” O’Malley said, while pointing to a color photo of the most recent killing.“I’d never taken Jack for a shifter-rapt.”
“Explains why they never caught him,” O’Malley mused.
Vex grunted as he flipped through the photos, comparing the old to the new, all of them eerily similar in method.“Good Ole’ Jack the Ripper. Who would’ve thought he’d resurface?”
“Seems all the demons are coming out of the woodwork these days,” O’Malley answered.
Vex tucked the photos into his coat pocket as streams of people passed by, boarding the morning train. “Has the press caught wind of this yet?”
“Not yet. We’re trying to keep a tight lid on this one, considering the hysteria he raised over a century ago.”
“Good thinking,” Vex agreed.“We won’t be able to stall them long, though. Word travels fast. Rumors are swirling. I heard tell that one of the locals who discovered one of the bodies before dawn has been talking to the tabloids.”
“Who?” Vex asked.
“You know I can’t tell you, Vex. You’ll go threaten him.”
“You’re damn right, O’Malley. Now who is it? Spill the beans. We’ve got three dead girls on our hands. All of them beautiful, young women whose lives were cut short. I need a name.”O’Malley sighed. It was no use. The hybrid bloodsucker, shifter-rapt would find out anyhow. He seemed to know everyone or every kind, rather. He’d find out. He had his ways and O’Malley knew it.
“He’s a bartender. He was on his way home after work. He lives just outside Whitechapel.”
“A name, O’Malley,” Vex repeated, staring the man down.
“Ralph Finnigan. He’s co-owner of the pub.” Vex was gone before the detective uttered the man’s last name.
O’Malley watched as the common black bird flew out of King’s Crossing Station and into the light of day.
* * * *Chastity Worthington was alone at her desk. The newsroom was deserted at this hour. Everyone else had gone home to join their families, have dinner and turn in for the night. Chass wasn’t tired. Not in the least. She’d gotten a hot tip and, if it was real, this story could take her all the way to the top. She surfed the Net, stopping on one of the foremost Ripperologist sites. She clicked onto grisly black-and-white photos. She clicked again, enlarging the photo of Mary Jane Kelly, Jack’s final victim, killed on November 9, 1888.
Chass cringed when she clicked again, enlarging the photo further. Mary Jane’s face was hardly recognizable as anything other than a piece of meat. Her desk phone rang, making her jump half out of her skin. She grabbed it on the second ring.“Worthington here,” she chirped into the receiver as she swiveled around, glancing at the darkened news room of the Daily Mirror.
“Chass?”
“Daddy?”
“What on earth are you doing up there at this hour?” Bartholomew Worthington bellowed.
“Working late,” Chass drawled, rolling her eyes.
“We stopped by your flat after dinner.”
“I’m not there,” Chass replied dryly.
“We can see that, darling. Your mum’s worried sick. She’s been thinking a lot about Tabitha. The anniversary is next week.”Chass sighed as she clicked onto another victim’s remains. How long would she have to suffer because of her sister’s abduction fifteen years before? “Tell her I’m fine. Just working late.”
“On what? You’ve met your deadline.”
Chass thought of what to say while she read about the Whitechapel murders.
“Chass?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Did you get a lead on something?” her father asked, his concern quickly fading to interest. As senior editor of the Daily Mirror, Bartholomew Worthington was always looking for the next big story.
“Daddy, I think I’ve got something here. I’ll call you back in a bit,” Chass answered, hanging up abruptly. S
he knew her father would quiz her. She wanted all her facts straight before telling him about the new lead.Chass glanced down at her notes. The ones she’d jotted down the night before. There were ink smears all over the darn thing. She’d been taking a bubble bath, after finally reaching a heavy deadline and calling it a night. The police scanner she kept on in her bedroom began chattering away just as she was about to fall back into the bubbles, wetting her long, black hair.
She’d reached for the notebook on the window ledge with one slender leg, knocking it down with her big toe. She leaned forward, catching it before it fell in the water. She ignored her dripping hands as she unhooked the pen and began scribbling like mad. She strained to hear. That damn faucet, if it would stop that infernal dripping! She jammed her toe into the round hole. Warm water drizzled down her foot. Static sizzled and popped. We have a 10-45. More crackling and popping. Chass strained to hear. She knew a 10-45 was a fatality. In the Whitechapel Area. We need back up. He’s struck again.Despite the warm water, Chass shivered. She jotted down Whitechapel and then turned back to the page before when she first received that strange call. She read her own inky scrawl.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. You work for the paper, don’t you, my lady? Chass had cleared her throat, just waking up, answering the phone while half asleep that very morning. “Yes,” she’d mumbled. This is Jack. Tell your boss I’m back in town.
***
RONI: -Alisha that was a great excerpt and I can’t wait to see your book on sale at The Wild Rose Press. Thank you so very very much for visiting with me and my readers today. I enjoyed this. You know you are my first official guest blogger right? That’s pretty cool
He's home! As of this morning, my son has returned to US Soil after a deployment to Iraq. I will blog more later but right now I just wanted to share my good news. He should be home to our house within a week. Its been a long year and we are much relieved that this journey has come to an end. 
