New Deal

I am so excited to announce that Ravenous Romance and Red Wheel have teamed up to offer paranormal romances in print. My work (the Blood & Sex Series) is a part of this offering and will be available in bookstores starting this summer.

According to the write-up in Publisher’s Weekly, “Reaction from Barnes & Noble and Borders has been very positive, Kerber added. Red Wheel will also sell the books into foreign markets and hopes to licensing foreign-language rights. ” (see the whole article here)

You can also take a peak at the covers and preorder on Amazon or on Red Wheel’s site at

Night’s Fall Excerpt


Chapter One

Fourteen months after the worst of my life was over, in the beginning of the
cooler fall weather everyone in Alabama had been anticipating, I was unpacking in a new
house. Not new exactly, but a different house. This was the same building I’d lived inNight's Fall by Angela Cameron
after the death of my parents, when I went to live with the Aunts. It had been my home
through the worst years of my childhood life, and would be again now after the worst of
the adult years. But it wasn’t all bad memories in this home. There were wonderful
memories, too. Like on the white railed front porch, where I’d kissed a boy for the first
time. In the back yard, I’d read the acceptance letter from Auburn University, my first
pick for college before I met Phillip. And up in the bathroom, where I’d waited those few
agonizing minutes for the little plus sign to show up on the pregnancy test that announced
the baby’s presence.
I still couldn’t believe it was all gone.
My entire life—everything I’d worked for—had been a castle of sand that Phillip
had decided to scatter. Maybe if I’d had a real life, it wouldn’t have been so hard, but I
hadn’t taken it well. Instead, there had been the suicide attempt that Phillip had
interrupted so ungraciously. Afterward, I’d seen my own personal hell. I’d lived there,
refusing to visit the human world around me. After I left inpatient therapy at the hospital,
I’d wiped out the bank account and moved into an apartment. I divorced Phillip without
speaking to him again. Then I’d locked out the entire world. I painted, something I hadn’t
done in years, but now the paintings were all in darks and reds. Phillip and other family
members rang my phone off the hook, as if they cared. It panicked them that I’d always
given to them, done as they asked, and tried to keep the peace. There was just something
that changed once you decided to die and failed. You just didn’t give a damn anymore
about etiquette, consoling others, or making waves. They all thought I was insane.
Eventually, the Aunts came knocking and refused to leave. For three days they
hounded me. Finally I caved: I took a bath, fixed my hair, and went out for a margarita
with them.
But I was better now. I knew my limits and the way that darkness would suck me
down into a bottomless pit if I let myself go there.
I pulled the last book from the box, my tattered and dog-eared copy of Romeo and
Juliet, and laid it on the bedside table next to the small lamp. I’d read it so many times,
letting it carry me away to a romantic place where I hadn’t been in my marriage for years.
It was frustrating and tragic, but I’d always thought that if I ever found love like Juliet
found, one where my Romeo would sacrifice everything for me, then I’d die for him. I’d
had my fill of loveless relationships. If true love found me now, I’d give everything to
hold onto it.
Not that true love was even a reality. It was a dream. A silly, immature fantasy
that we were taught as kids. There were no Cinderellas. No Prince Charmings. The reality
was the best most people could hope for was a relationship where they didn’t want to
poison the other person on a daily basis.
“Gabby?” Aunt Maye’s round face peered around the door. Her waist-length
wavy auburn hair, identical to mine, was half twisted into a loose bun with the remainder
swinging into view.
I grabbed the last empty cardboard box and broke it down.
“Oh, there you are, dear. We were just going down to look at your store one last
time. Sherry can’t decide if she likes the khaki or beige drapes better.”
I laughed and tossed the box onto the pile of boxes in the floor next to the door. “I
can’t believe she’s that worried about it. I don’t care what the drapes look like.”
“Oh.” She smiled warmly. “Wait till you hear about the chairs. I finally made her
draw from a hat.”
“She was okay with that?”
“I told her it would be letting fate decide.”
I laughed again. Only Maye knew how to work so easily within Sherry’s eccentric
world. Tossing the choice up to fate was a moment of pure genius.
“So you want to go with us?”
I smiled. “I think I’m going to stay here. I’m almost finished.”
“Well, if you get hungry, there’s a fresh banana pudding in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Aunt Maye, but I think I’m going on a diet. The medication made me
gain weight.” It was true. The antidepressants had put on twenty pounds in the last year.
It wasn’t a total disaster since I was tall and carried my weight well, but it was enough to
make me feel completely uncomfortable in shorts. Swimsuits were out of the question.
“Oh, hush. Banana pudding’s not fattening.”
“Yes it is.”
“Not this one. I squished all of the calories out.” She winked at me. “Go have
some, and we’ll be back in a bit.”
“All right.”
She closed the door, and her footsteps faded down the hardwood hallway, then
down the stairs. In a moment, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through
the house.
The silence was heavier than I’d hoped. Living alone had been hard after the
company of a husband. I’d lain on the couch in my apartment so many nights listening to
that damned grandfather clock tick away. I finally smashed it one night with Phillip’s
baseball bat. They were both things I’d taken when I left him. The grandfather clock
because I’d bought it for him, the bat because he’d spent so many nights playing ball with
the guys while I sat at home alone.
Now in the Aunts’ house, another clock ticked in the silence.
I groaned and jabbed the button on the front of the radio. AC/DC’s Back in Black
was playing, and I didn’t bother to search for another station. There were only four that
would pick up so far outside the city. The other three were country. Besides, Back in
Black was perfect to describe how I felt. I was beginning to feel a little spark of that old
fight coming back to me. It had been so long since I had felt alive—long before the last
year—and black was definitely the color for my mood.
I grabbed the pile of cardboard on the bed and headed down the stairs to put it
next to the other trash. There, I glanced around at the forest and the lake shore off to the
right. Coming back to Cold Springs would be the beginning of more apologies and
questions from curious acquaintances. I’d hidden long enough. Now was time to start
again, even if it meant letting people hug me and ask tons of questions.
I didn’t have to answer them. All they needed to know was that I’d moved back to
town to escape the hustle of the bigger city and to take care of my aging aunts.
Oh, and to open the town’s newest bookstore. The only one had been owned by
Mr. Carter, who had died last year. His son from Birmingham had closed the little store
on Alabama Avenue when no one jumped at the chance to buy it. There was a limited
market for business ownership in a town where most of the citizens either worked in
Birmingham, where the real jobs were, or at one of the factories that didn’t pay enough to
allow any one employee to save up for such a large purchase. With no chance of a quick
sale, closing it seemed more a desperate attempt to avoid returning to Cold Springs than
anything else.
There was a time when I’d have done the same. As we’d said when we were kids,
Cold Springs is a pit. The place had a strange way of pulling even the most rebellious of
its ex-citizens back in. Like quicksand, you could never quite escape. That’s why so
many of the kids who’d seemed so full of promise in high school never managed to make
it out. There was little opportunity for the children of factory workers to move out of the
family rut.
There was just no escape if you didn’t make your break early on.
And I was back, too. Though I’d made my way out, it hadn’t lasted. Now, after
the worst things that could’ve happened, I was back. My life as a wife and mother in
Huntsville was over. Gone.
That was a different person, and I was back to live the life of a single woman
again in this tiny Southern town. It was almost a cliché. But it wasn’t as bad as spending
every day in that mine field of memories that Huntsville had become. I’d had enough of
that for ten lifetimes.

Author: Angela Cameron

Genre: Paranormal
Released: Feb 3, 2010

Note: This book contains smokin’ hot love scenes and very naughty vampires.

Get a Copy
of Night’s Fall by clicking here

Don’t forget the Night’s Fall
Virtual Release and Costume Party

where you can win a copy of Night’s Fall, plus an exclusive Angela Cameron prize pack.
Go over to the blog at
to enter today – the contest ends soon!