“T. A. Grey’s “Take Me”—book 1 in her new series “The Untouchables—is a smartly crafted, highly erotic, and emotionally charged paranormal romance.  Grey deviates from her usual alternate-reality style in “Take Me” to suck readers into a destructive love triangle/quadrangle in a tempting almost-reality world.  Grey’s primary male character is domineering, sexy, yet sometimes clueless…basically a normal male.  Her primary female character is flawed, ambitious, and down-right normal.  Readers can identify with the characters’ feelings of pain, love, lust, loss, betrayal, and pure determination to overcome any obstacle.  Although “Take Me” was written for a paranormal genre, the overwhelming undercurrent of normalcy flowing through the world and themes draws the reader in and doesn’t let go.  Grey even created a villain so devious, so crazy, so sexy, so utterly broken that it is impossible to hate him.  Grey has worked hard to make this group of immortal bad boys anything but Untouchable…Yum!”  Copyright 2013 by Amber L. Barr ~Vampire and Immortal Books

 

"This girl knows how to write a flawed alpha male who steals your heart every time!! Dom and Felicity are truly opposite and met under the worst of circumstances, considering Dom is promised to another. But yet the sparks fly!! Neither one can resist each other and lies start piling up. Is there a chance for true love to win?"~Close Encounters of the Night Kind

 

"This novel was unforgettable, as many others stories from the great and talented T.A. Grey. I couldn't put the book down and I was thrown into a storming new adventure filled with sexy alpha males and crazy kick-ass chicks!" ~Proserping Craving

 

"Dominic Blackmoore remember that name because believe me after reading this book you won't forget it. I'm a big fan of T.A.Grey. I have read everything she has written so when I knew this book was coming out I couldn't wait to read it. And it has Vampires and Weres my two favourite things well add a third thing to that as it also has loads of sex scenes. And Oh my giddy heart is this book Hot the sex scenes are raw and sexy and i loved every minute of it, I can feel a cold shower coming on. ;)" ~PassionateBooks.blogspot.com

 

"This was a nice set up for the new series that hopefully will follow. We met all of the delicious and intriguing Blackmoore brothers. The writer brilliantly teases with sneaky little hints at the brothers stories. Vas, the dark and tortured brother, and I'm thinking that I already know where he's headed...and with which lady. Grayson promises to give me a story that will tug at my heart strings. Then there is Lucas...the wild and reckless rock star brother. His story has me intrigued already. I like this new world that T.A. Grey has created, and I'm sure to be visiting my favorite characters in each new book.

This exciting new series is sure to appeal to paranormal readers. It definitely got me on the hook and eagerly awaiting the next offering in the series. I highly recommend this book." ~Night Owl Romance

 

CHAPTER ONE

The piercing ring of the telephone sent Felicity Shaw scampering down the hall and into the kitchen. Her cat Hugo, possessing latent talent for impeccable timing, chose the moment she rounded the bend to dart out in front of her. With a squeal, Felicity leaped over the troublesome feline but missed her footing as she came down. In one awkward descent, she twisted her ankle, slammed her knee into a kitchen cabinet and through the faux-plasterboard wood. What a way to begin the evening.

"I do not need this, Hugo!" she shouted at the black-and-white, four-legged prancer, who ate bits of chow from his food bowl while glancing at her with a bored expression.

The telephone continued to ring, which reminded her of the whole reason she'd gone running through her apartment in the first place. Fighting through the throbbing pain in her knee, Felicity snatched the phone off its set and growled to the caller: "What d'ya want?"

"Is this one...Felicity Shaw?" The caller sounded bored. A snobbish quality to his voice spoke of one born in the upper echelon of society. Felicity would bet her last quarter he was nothing more than another debt collector.

"Whom may I ask is calling?" She mimicked his posh accent and sent Hugo a sarcastic glance he didn't reciprocate.

"Is this Ms. Shaw of 432 Tower Park Drive?" the man intoned.

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Yes, it is I. If you are from the Internet company I already know my bill is late, but I don't have the money to pay it, so just cancel my service."

It was hardly the first time a utility company would shut off her conveniences. For the past year and a half, struggle was the name of the game. Life in poverty could feel like an eternity in hell when one couldn't pay the bills.

After graduating, Felicity encountered problem after problem trying to get hired for notable events—the kind of large-scale jobs she'd always dreamed about. She had the education under her belt to prove she knew what she was doing, but not enough hands-on experience for the kinds of elite clientele she yearned to work with.

That's why she'd chosen to put a gentle lie, a fib, really, on her latest resume.

The posh voice came back over the line. "Ms. Shaw, my name is Ian Nevelle. I am calling on behalf of the Blackmoore family."

The Blackmoore family. Three words that could send the paparazzi running with their cameras flashing and video recording. The world-renowned family retained a seat of power on the vampire and were council for the last five-hundred years making them more famous than Lord Voldemort or laughing emojis. The brothers spent a lot of time in the news, usually accompanied by a scandalous story and a picture of a blurred, handsome face holding a hand up in front of a camera. The paparazzi loved to photograph the brothers for gaudy television shows, gossip magazines and websites that raked in loads of cash off the handsome faces of the infamous brothers. Much to her shame, Felicity subscribed to several of these magazines. She, too, longed to belong in such circles as the likes of the Blackmoores.

When Felicity came across an online job inquiry from the Blackmoore family, she'd applied in seconds. The Blackmoores were looking to hire a professional wedding planner, and she so happened to have the credentials to compete. Well, she did with that little "fib" she'd added to her portfolio. But what was one small lie in the presence of the perfect dream job? A job like this would open doors for her career for the rest of her life.

But she'd never expected a call back.

The man on the line sighed warily. "Yes, Ms. Shaw. The Blackmoore family is in need of a wedding planner and they have selected your resume as a potential candidate. If you could bring your portfolio to the Blackmoore estate tonight at seven-thirty, you will be interviewed for this job. If you are chosen, pay and other benefits will be discussed at that point."

Felicity checked the time and tensed. "But it's already seven o'clock. That's not enough time to prepare!" She needed to shower, dress to perfection, and practice what she'd say before she could present herself to the likes of a Blackmoore—the wealthiest, blue-blooded vampires in society—in a mere thirty minutes.

"I'm afraid that is the deadline. Are you available or not?"

"Umm..." Her mind raced through all the possibilities. She'd never liked making quick decisions. She preferred taking her time to analyze all the possibilities first. To land a job the size of a Blackmoore event—Felicity could see dollar signs dancing in her head. She'd be able to pay her bills, put some money into savings, and buy some good-quality blood to drink. She didn’t even want to think about the synthetic fluid she'd been feeding on for so many months. But what if they found out about her little lie?

Another sigh came over the line. "Are you coming to the interview or not?"

"Yes, I'll be there." And so her future was sealed with a lightly-touched up resume and excitement pulsing through her veins. He gave her the address, to the Blackmoore house and ended the call.

Felicity hung up, and then launched herself into the shower in under a minute. She ran a razor over her calves, but didn't bother to shave the whole leg. She finished and dressed in her nicest interview outfit: a dark-cherry number that made her look polished, sleek, and conservative.  The dress had cost her a weeks’ worth of wages when she'd bought it straight out of university for exactly a job interview like this, where her appearance might be as important, if not more so, than her portfolio.

"Just wait until Beth hears about this." Her best friend, a human, would scale the walls if she got this job, and then insist on a shopping spree afterward.

As ready as she'd ever be, Felicity started the hunk of metal she called a car and sped off in record time for the Blackmoore estate. She followed the directions Ian gave her and was surprised to see the Blackmoores lived relatively near her in the city. With a few winding turns, she found the landscape growing shrouded in tall mossy oaks and voluminous catalpas with their long pea-pods dangling from rickety branches. Before long, any sign of city-life had vanished and been replaced by a single-paved road in a remote, untouched part of the city. 

The sun had set and the moon was only beginning its ascent across the night sky. Soon, she came upon it: Blackmoore estate. A place even paparazzi did not know the location to. The French provincial home was built on a massive manor that towered behind black menacing gates like a haunted house. Felicity pulled to a stop, so she could get a good look. The mansion sat upon a steep hill behind foreboding pitch-black, iron-wrought gates. Aged oaks, flowering white-petal sprouting dogwoods and maples with reddish-orange leaves edged the black fence-line and blocked most of the view from the street.

A sigh of longing escaped her. This home was a dream. It might look foreboding, but to her it spoke of pure class and wealth—something she'd never experienced.

The Blackmoore's estate was the only house on the street. Not surprising, she thought. They probably owned the street. They probably owned all of this land. There must be hundreds of acres, and that towering, seven-foot-tall gate wrapped around the expanse as far as she could see. The sharp, barbed spirals at the top of the gate's rungs served as a warning: beware those who enter.

A podium call box stood before the looming black-iron gates. It reminded her of drive-thru microphones that humans used when they ordered fast food. Felicity rolled down her window as she pulled up to it, and then pressed the small button on the box.

A moment later a clear, male voice rang out. "Who's calling?"

"It's Felicity Shaw, the wedding planner. I'm here for an interview."

She waited for a response, but nothing came. Instead, a loud metal clang sounded, and the black gates began their gradual descent inward with a mechanical whirring.

Felicity laughed as her stomach fluttered with unease. If the house was old or emaciated, it'd be the house that children would be frightened of come nightfall. But none would ever say the Blackmoore mansion looked unnerving. No, it exuded luxury from the emerald green manicured lawn to the smooth blacktop driveway that winded up to the house and circled back to the exit.

Felicity drove slowly to take it all in. A breathtaking water fountain rested beneath a colossal portico at the entrance to the mansion. It reminded her of something she'd seen at a high-end hotel. In the fountain, two elegant swans, one black and one white, faced each other with their wings folded back and their slender necks outstretched to each other as they spurted water in a silly game.

She shook her head at the extravagance of it all. Here she had a fat gnome with a red pointy hat and blue sweater as a porch decoration and the Blackmoores had a million-dollar fountain.

To have such wealth, Felicity could only dream about the kinds of furnishings they must sleep on, what high-quality blood they must consume, so unlike the synthetic junk she fed on. How amazing their lives must be! She yearned to have wonderful things filling up her life; things she'd earned through her own creative ideas and hard work. She could sense success within her reach.

From the front doors, an older man with dark skin and a bald head stepped out of the house. She could sense his age—he was older than her seventy-five vampire years—but he'd been turned and not born naturally like her.

He opened her door before she could shut off her engine.

"Ms. Shaw, if you'll follow me. Mr. Blackmoore is impatient to meet with you."

Her stomach pitched as if she'd taken a rollercoaster dip at sixty miles per hour. She snatched her portfolio and hustled to keep up with him.

"Mr. Blackmoore is waiting for me?" She had assumed a manager-type would interview her. Not an actual Blackmoore! They had time for such frivolities?

"Yes, Mr. Blackmoore will be interviewing you."

Her pulse raced and a bead of sweat dribbled down her temple. She swiped it away. "Which Blackmoore, may I ask?" There were four brothers and the mother. The father had recently passed away from a rare vampire disease, or so she’d read in one of her gossip magazines.

He eyed her as if she were daft. "Dominic, the master of the house, of course."

She faltered a step and the butler eyed her curiously. "Is that a problem for you?"

"No, of course not." She put on a smile but it, too, wavered. She needed to be strong, confident, and smart in order to get this job, yet her vision wavered, and it was all she could do to not turn tail and run.

You've done interviews before, she coached herself. But not with Dominic Blackmoore!

She gazed up at the looming mansion and whispered to herself, “I can do this.”

"I'm sure you can, Ms. Shaw. Now if you'll follow me."

He let out a sharp whistle and a young teenager hopped out of a small doorway she hadn't seen. He was in her car and driving it away in seconds.

"Who was that and where is he taking my car?" She couldn't quite keep the edge out of her voice. 

"Ms. Shaw, I wouldn't concern yourself with theft. That is Yussef, the valet, and I assure you he has parked far superior vehicles than your 1992 Volvo and he did not steal any of those. Yours, I assure you, is well in hand."

Felicity's confidence wavered at the man's underhanded remark. If the butler was this rude, what would Dominic Blackmoore be like?

"Please, follow me. The master awaits you."

Felicity followed mutely past a spiraling snowy staircase that led to the upstairs level. Her used high heels clicked along the polished white-and-black checkered marble floor. The home smelled like a fresh garden. It was how she imagined the perfect home would smell: as if it'd never been lived in. She took in the furnishings and decorations of brass vases, porcelain sculptures, paintings of ancestors on the wall, and cozy iron benches that probably never sat a noble butt on them. The Blackmoores spared no expense in having the best.

She was led to a private study. The room had a different weight and tone than what she’d seen of the rest of the house. Her eye for decoration and planning took in everything from the aged wood planks of the floor to the massive wooden lattice that layered across the domed high-rise ceiling. Every room in existence contained its own feeling or sensation; this could be in a metallurgy warehouse or nursing home or even here, at Blackmoore estate. Every place was distinct, and this room felt different from the rest of the house. It smelled earthy like a man's room.

"He'll be with you in a moment." The butler bowed and withdrew from the room.

At the click of the door, Felicity found herself alone in the infamous mansion, and there was no one in sight and not a sound to her ears. No radio played, no air conditioner hummed, no children ran loose, and no television droned on. Just unnerving silence.

Felicity walked further into the room as she gathered her bearings. Her heart had yet to calm its incessant rhythm. She'd never seen an office that had two stories, but this one did. A nearly hidden staircase appeared to lead to the upper floor balcony, where darkness pervaded over the room like a dead ghost. Yet, something about the darkness sent a chill down her spine. She shivered and jerked her gaze away to something a touch friendlier—the fireplace which presided as the cornerstone of the room.

 Certainly she'd find a touch of warmth there. Yet, even the fireplace looked as cold as a Siberian winter, like it’d never been lit. This home needed warmth, she thought. Everything was beautiful, but also chilling. The hearth had a unique design of hand carved spirals in cherry wood. Above it, the wood took on a sharper edge as the carvings became pointed spirals much like the gate outside. Pointed and harsh like a warning.

"Holy crud.”

Maybe she was in way over her head.

Felicity paced in front of a buttery-soft black leather couch in front of the fireplace and waited. She ran through what she would say and how she would say it.

Little did she know, she was being watched.