Birth of the Bacchae Immortal Relics Book 1 by Stephanie Mirro Genre: Urban Fantasy “Vampires, Immortals, Bacchae—they’re all the same. The name may change, but their appetites never do.” Ever since archaeology student Serafina Finch found an ancient Roman amulet on a dig in Italy, she’s been having dreams. Strange dreams that leave her with an eerie sense of foreboding. But between a busy college schedule and a boyfriend she’s hoping to marry, she doesn’t have time for strange. Then a mysterious cult takes an obsessive interest in the artifact. Serafina finds her life in chaos as she’s thrown into the supernatural world, where Immortals and witches alike claim ownership of the amulet. Her amulet. As her connection to the amulet grows, she discovers a dark secret about her past. Serafina realizes she must protect the powerful relic at all costs–even if it means losing one of the people she loves most. “ Invisible. Powerful. Immortal. We are Bacchae.”BIRTH OF THE BACCHAE is a New Adult Urban Fantasy novel exploring the origins of vampire lore in a modern setting. Where do the stories come from? How were vampires created? Do they still exist today?Add to GoodreadsAmazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo
Stephanie Mirro’s lifelong love of ancient mythology led to majoring in the Classics in college, which wasn’t quite as much fun as writing her own mythology stories as she did as a child. But that education, combined with an overactive imagination and being an avid fantasy reader, resulted in a writing career. Starting her days with coffee and ending them with wine means Stephanie can usually be found juggling household chores, keeping the kids alive, and trying to write, edit, publish, and market the stories that haunt her dreams. Born and raised in Southern Arizona, Stephanie now resides in Northern Virginia with her husband, two kids, and two furbabies. This thing called “seasons” is still magical. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads
Lorenzo narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. An aging, musty scent wafted off of the
older man, along with a thick layer of cologne.
“Do not play games with me, girl. You will not like losing.” His face contorted with a
snarl and his eyes flashed red, as if he suddenly wore a hideous mask. It was startlingly
familiar, like how Octavia looked during her late night visit to her sister.
Sera jumped back, the arm of the couch stopping her from going any further. “What the
hell was that?”
The sound of fabric ripping filled the air as his nails dug into the couch. He growled,
low and menacing.
“I’m-I’m not playing games,” she managed to stutter as she cowered before him. “I
assumed you had stolen it.”
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