It's the happiest day of the year--like Christmas, my birthday, and Valentine's Day rolled into one. That's right, it's BOOK LAUNCH DAY!!! Apologies for the exclamation mark overuse, but that's just how excited I am. After more than a year of hard work and patiently waiting, The Last Bucelarii (Book 2): Lament of the Fallen is finally here. Here are a few early reviews: "Lament of the Fallen is an excellent follow-up to Blade of the Destroyer. The Hunter's struggle with his demonic nature and the need of the blade are powerful. He doesn't want to kill, but the world is not so kind to him. Bandits, a cabal of Mages, assassins, and more plague him as he struggles to understand his place in the world and defy his heritage and purpose. He might be destined to help bring back the Destroyer and end the world, but can he defy it? Peloquin creates an interesting world with fascinating characters and dark setting. The journey of the Hunter is fascinating as he goes from assassin to hero. As he learns whether he is an evil man or if he can choose to be good as he struggles with his “addiction” to murder. The need burning inside him, always eating at his self-control, demanding he stop showing mercy. He stop showing compassion." -- RJ Reviews "The complexity of the Hunter’s personality blossoms in this book. He has always seen himself as a loner, as all assassins must be. But he discovered at the end of the last story that he really needs people. The double fear – that his friends are a danger to him, but he is much more a danger to them – lays another layer of suspense on the external violence and internal struggle of the novel. As with the rest of the series, all the settings and deeds are described in beautiful (and horrible) detail of sight, sound, and odour. Secondary characters are more rounded and individual than before, because they matter to the main character. Especially wonderful is Bardin, the beggar/scholar/madman, where Peloquin achieves the difficult task of creating an insane character who acts according to expectations." -- Gordon A. Long And here's a taste of what's inside: A rough hand shook the Hunter from sleep. Instinct kicked in. Seizing his assailant, he pressed his sword to the man's throat. Visibos's eyes flew wide and he held up his hands. "Easy, Hardwell. Just waking you for your turn at watch." The Hunter nodded and lowered the sword. Visibos shook his head. Rubbing red-rimmed eyes, he stumbled toward his blankets with a yawn. Within seconds, the low rumble of his snores floated around the campsite. Darkness hung on the campsite like a thick blanket. Only glowing embers remained of the fire, but the Hunter made no effort to rebuild it. He preferred shadow. Unseen, he could watch both the forest and his new traveling companions. He filled his lungs with the fresh, clean night air and rolled his neck and shoulders to work out the kinks of sleeping on the forest floor. His blankets, while thick and warm, provided little cushion against the hardness of the earth beneath him. Slinging his baldric over his shoulder, he buckled on his sword. A quick inspection of his saddlebags revealed nothing out of place. He ran a hand across the smooth surface of the iron-lined box. Soulhunger's voice pounded in his mind, pleading to feed. A twinge of pain settled behind his eyes. The Hunter savored the scents of the forest around him. The smoke from their dying campfire hung heavy in the air, and beneath it, he smelled muted hints of plant and animal life. A cool breeze rolled past, carrying with it the scent of decaying leaves, pine sap, and a sweet-scented flower he couldn't identify. The Hunter wrapped his cloak tighter about himself as the chill of the early morning wind sent a shiver down his spine. The crook of a large tree offered him a comfortable place to sit his watch, as well as protection from the occasional gust. He leaned against the thick trunk, curling his legs to his chest. The shrouds of his dark cloak hid him from his companions, and he was all but invisible beneath the forest canopy. His eyes roamed over the sleeping forms of his traveling companions. Only the red tresses of Sir Danna's hair were visible, her thick bedroll swaddling the rest of her in a snug bundle. Loud snores rose from the lump he knew to be Visibos. 'Kill them!' The demon's intensity startled the Hunter. The creature filled his mind with images of Soulhunger drinking deep of the knight's heart-blood. His sword sliced into Visibos' neck, spraying crimson. No! The Hunter shook his head, endeavoring to shake loose the gory thoughts. His fingers traced the scar on his chest. I will not harm them. 'Leave them alive, and they will discover your lie. You are no more Hardwell of Praamis than you are Danther the tailor or Lord Anglion the Foolish.' Rubbing his eyes, the Hunter tried to calm the pounding in his head. How could they know? They have no way to uncover the truth. No, they are no threat to me. 'Foolish Bucelarii! How little you know. The humans you protect will be your undoing.' The Hunter closed his eyes, massaging his temples. Why will you not leave me alone? He was so tired of hearing that voice in his head. He wanted freedom from that voice. He needed peace. 'You know what you must do.' VERY IMPORTANT: If you buy the eBook version at any time this weekend, you are eligible to participate in my Raffle. You could win one of the THREE signed paperbacks, as well as any of the 100+ eBooks donated by my author friends.