Marva Dale is the pen name for author Debra McReynolds.  Retired from the public relations field, Debra now spends her free time indulging in her passion for writing.  "I used to fill my school notebooks with stories," Debra relates, "and then add artwork to go along with them.  My second grade teacher, Mrs. Daley, predicted that I would be a writer one day."
A fan of the mystery genre, she enjoys crafting tales with a twist of suspense, a touch of romance, and a bit of humor. 
Debra and her husband, Dale, make their home in El Paso, Texas, with their dog, cats and rabbits.

Dr. Suzan Dwyer specializes in blood disorder research and maintains her own laboratory in the Washington, D.C. area. But she’s not prepared to deal with a new patient named Charles Lambert who says he’s aging by the minute and needs Suzan to help him discover a way to reverse the process through her blood research. Suzan hesitates to believe the story Charles tells her. Yet when he suddenly disappears, Suzan tracks him down and meets his wife, Ellen Lambert, a beautiful, alluring, and enigmatic woman who harbors a deep, disturbing secret. Suzan is drawn into Ellen’s world of mysticism, fantasy, lust and desire, and believes Ellen when she says that Charles has suddenly died overseas. Succumbing to Ellen’s charms, Suzan decides to give up her old life, one that she has shared with her partner, Dr. Davis Breen, for five years. As she embarks on a tempestuous affair with Ellen and listens to her incredible history, Suzan is drawn deeper into the woman’s strange but exciting world, one that might possibly include murder. Soon Suzan must decide if she wants what Ellen wishes to give her—life everlasting… Even when such a life comes at a terrible cost. 


Blood of the Gods

"Kill me, darling, kill me..."Ellen's plea was so pitiable that Suzan wept as she murmured over and over again, "What have I done?What have I done?Please forgive me, my love, please forgive me!God, forgive me!"


The doctor suppressed an urge to scream.What now sat staring at her through rheumy eyes was not the Ellen she knew, but a hideous, shrunken, shriveled shell of a woman, her flesh paper-thin and intersected with swollen blue-gray veins, her facial features barely visible through a maze of sunken furrows.


In just one night Ellen had aged to well over a hundred.


"Kill me," the creature begged again with barely enough breath to speak.


Chapter 79