Saturday, August 15, 2015

Agent N6: Dylan Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Agent N6: Dylan
(The D.I.R.E. Agency Series, Bk #6)
by Joni Hahn

Agent N6: Dylan McCall

Third generation Marine
Mongolian prison survivor


Third generation Marine Dylan McCall has only one goal in mind: revenge. Armed with a new, scientific enhancement, he won’t rest until he destroys Cyrus Matheson’s plans.

Geneticist Teague Hamilton wants nothing more than a healthy baby of her own. Raised in a girls’ home, she knows Cyrus’s genetic engineering technology is her only chance at gaining the family she wants.

Dylan can’t get enough of D.I.R.E.’s confident, sexy-as-hell geneticist, even though his gut tells him she’s hiding something. He won’t rest until he tames her and brings her deception to light.

When Cyrus draws Teague out of D.I.R.E.’s protective custody and takes her to the past, she uncovers lies that prove she’s never controlled her own destiny, while Dylan travels back in time to save her before it's too late.

Can Dylan rescue Teague in time, or will he lose the woman he loves forever?

Available for purchase at 



“I need to take your temperature, McCall.
Pulling a plastic thermometer from a package, she slipped it under his tongue without meeting his eyes. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t looked at him at all since she walked into the room.
She took his hand in hers and wrapped a blood pressure monitor around his wrist. Her flesh felt like soft butter against his skin, her nearness throwing his healthy libido into acceleration mode. Watching the machine monitor his pulse and blood pressure, she kept her face averted, while he sat with the damned thermometer under his tongue.
Why was she giving him the cold shoulder? He’d rescued her from Cyrus’s clones and had carried her – carried her – across crushed glass so she wouldn’t cut her feet.
He wouldn’t think about how her fingers in his hair sent goose bumps across his nape.
Taking the thermometer from his mouth, she looked at it before showing it to him, her gaze back on the monitor.
“Ninety-eight point four,” she said.
Squinting, he studied her stoic profile. She had the smallest nose he’d ever seen on a woman.
“Yeah, so?”
The monitor powered down before she turned the display toward him. His vitals were perfect.
“I know you don’t trust me, McCall. I don’t want you accusing me of falsifying your test results.”
Walking back to the computer, she entered the information, her fingers flying over the keys. That rounded backside of hers was damned near mouthwatering. How could a doctor who sat in a lab all day have an ass that pert?
“I have every right to be suspicious,” he said. “Wouldn’t you feel that way, under the circumstances?”
“What I would feel is irrelevant, Agent McCall.” Opening a cabinet above her head, she pulled down some medical supplies.
He hated logical women. They made too much sense. The erratic, fly-off-the-handle type he could handle. He could dismantle their arguments with little effort. With smart women, he had to work at it.
Walking over to the bed, she tore open a package and set a vial beside his hip. “Lay back.”
He refused to move until she looked at him. “No.”
Her gaze met his, disbelief lining her silver eyes. She stood less than a foot away, her mouth parted in surprise. Her top lip curved like the back end of a bow, her bottom lip plump and juicy. 
“Do you want these tests, McCall? Or, would you rather have someone else do them?”
The smell of peppermint on her breath drew him closer. “Why have you been avoiding eye contact? Do you have something to hide?”
Her brows furrowed, her gaze dropping to his bare chest before looking back at the package in her hand.
“See what I mean?” he said.
Glancing up, she said, “What do you want from me?” She leaned in even closer, their noses nearly touching. “Is that better?”
His body stirred in his shorts, his lungs stuffed with down feathers. Behind those glasses blazed eyes like quicksilver, luminous and filled with ire.
Gripping the edge of the bed, he itched to grab her around that narrow waist and pull her between his legs. Something told him Dr. Teague Hamilton wouldn’t disappoint in the bedroom.
Damn, he should not feel aroused around this woman. Yet, for some stupid reason, her evasion freaking turned him on.
“You need to work on your bedside manner, Doctor.” He flashed her a cocky grin.
A slow smile blossomed on her face, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. “Would you just shut it and lay back?”
“I rest my case.” He lay back on the bed and propped his arms behind his head. His Johnson sat at semi-erect attention, hoping she’d pay it a little notice.
Of course, she looked anywhere but there.
“I need an arm – unless you want me to take it straight from your jugular.” She cocked a dark, arched eyebrow.
“All of my blood flow is in my shorts at the moment. Any chance you want to help me divert it?”
The ire in her eyes turned to silver fire, her voice going husky. “Sounds… tempting, but I wouldn’t want you to lower your standards for a criminal.”
“I’m into bad girls… just FYI.”
“And, I’m into bad boys. Too bad you’re one of the good guys.”

The D.I.R.E. Agency Series

Series is also available in audio books!!

About the Author

By day, Joni Hahn keeps her secret decoder ring hidden while she works as a mild-mannered contemporary romance author. She believes the world can never have too many superheroes, and anxiously waits for the call when one will need help saving the world… or getting into his costume. Joni was born with a hopelessly tender heart and believes there is nothing on earth more exhilarating than falling in love. A native Texan, she thinks cowboys are the epitome of masculinity, and that country music is the other soul music.

Joni is a member of the Romance Writers of America and its Published Authors Network. She is a member of several RWA sub-chapters and has served in several board positions with the San Antonio Romance Authors. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, going to movies and concerts and spending time with family and friends.

Books 1 through 6 in Joni's sci fi romantic suspense series, The D.I.R.E. Agency, are available now.   Look for the epic Book 7, Agent U7: Keegan in late 2015!

You can find her at 



Presented By

Friday, August 14, 2015

The Angelnots Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

The Angelnots
The Unknown
Book One
Elise Pehrson

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Publisher: Soul Fire Press

Date of Publication: March 26, 2015

ISBN: 1938985672

Number of pages: 246
Word Count: 62,900

Cover Artist: Neil Noah

Book Description:

Anyone around the snug village of Bizi-Herri might pass it by upon first glance. However, this quaint hometown of Olivia and Alazné Zubiondo is far from ordinary, and one day, they find out why first-hand.

When a curse afflicts Alazné, Olivia must find a way to stop it. As she searches for answers, more problems surface and she finds herself uncovering secrets kept hidden away from the world—secrets meant to come out by nature but were concealed by man. Now, Olivia must figure out how to save her sister, her people and the dimensions intertwined with her fate.

Available at


Chapter 1

HE BREEZE TASTED LIKE WARM APPLES. The season was at that mesmerizing stage where the crisp chill of early autumn trickled into the toasted air of summer’s end. Visible through the cinnamon-scented zephyr and scrambling leaves was a quaint village tucked between the distant cities of Jubilan and Gainazaleko. Bizi-Herri was where the Angelnots lived; a small parish with an appearance of insignificance. It was the birthplace of history and was founded on great miracles, but it was not shy of curiosity and welcomed danger like an old friend.
      “I can’t get my Opari to work! I can never get it to work!” Alazné shouted to her sister while banging two fists together in a blast of frustration. Slick sweat bathed across her face in tiny droplets, like badges exhibiting her hard work. Fatigue blushed her face like rouge, and her breath was sharp and quick. She’d lost track of how many hours she and her sister had been training in the maze of golden, shedding trees.
      After a few more tries, thumping her hands and wrists together, Alazné’s face fell a little. She muttered under her breath, “Sometimes I wonder if I even have Opari…”
      “Oh just deal with it later—we have work to do!” Olivia’s voice bounced between the blackening trunks of the carroty trees.
      Alazné didn’t have the patience to deal with her Opari right now (or her sister’s lack of attention for that matter). Olivia’s talents had always come so easily to her; she never had any problem honing her Opari and using them to her advantage, but the talents Alazné was given at birth, or Opari, left much to be desired.
      Even Olivia’s outward appearance gave her a mystical presence that Alazné always envied. With locks of a mutated gene passed down through generations, Olivia’s bouncing hair resembled the deep color of winter-frosted plums, which was especially striking against her iridescent, emerald eyes. And although she looked like a true sorceress any girl in Bizi-Herri would be jealous of, she never seemed to pay any mind to it. She wore her hair in a messy mop twisted into a bun on the top of her head, and the only ounce of unnatural color she added to her face was the opaque, murky liquid she dipped her eyelashes into every morning.
      Alazné, on the other hand, was one of the village’s most intellectual Angelnots. She possessed a mind much keener than even that of her sister’s, who was also known to have an acute mind and her nose always stuck within a book. Unlike Olivia, however, Alazné’s beauty was a little more subtle. From a distance, she looked plain—average, most would say—but her beauty magnified immensely the closer you studied her uniquely sculpted features and listened to her insightful mind.
      Her eyes were tinted a hue of green between the shades of evergreen and mint, and mixed within the celadon spirals were flakes of chocolate, curled madly inside. Her hair was a mess of many bad hair days, but radiated in an unidentifiable dusty mixture somewhere where blonde and brown came together.
      Both girls were lean but, had bodies built with solid arms and sturdy legs—most likely from working hard in the forest and village their entire lives—and stood a little taller than average.
      Being only ten months apart, the two naturally got along in perfect malfunction and complete disarray.
       “Really, Liv?” Her fury made it even harder to concentrate on getting her Opari just right. She waved her hands together, attempting to spark them up one last time. It was to no avail, though; Alazné couldn’t muster the energy to do just about anything anymore. So, she just slapped her fists together in feverishness instead.
      The air was beginning to smell of dusky sunset; Alazné knew her time was slipping away, at least for today. She couldn’t bear the thought of another day gone and wasted without so little as a spark of talent radiating from her like everyone else had by the time they were her age.
      With her head still filled with blood and fury, Alazné threw her arms down and jolted towards Olivia.
      Olivia’s eyebrows flickered; she looked back to see her sister speeding towards her. A mischievous smile crept along her lips as she crossed her arms to match, which made her look like a taunting cat awaiting the presence of its prey.
      After a few seconds, Alazné met Olivia, but not in the way that Olivia had anticipated. She had her eyes squinted shut when she felt a sudden jerk against her throat. An arm reeking with the pungent smell of sweat and grass coiled its way around her neck like a python tightening its grip, while her feet somehow managed to jumble in a tangled heap. Panic struck her lungs and made it difficult for her to manage even the slightest gasp.
      “Not so high-and-mighty now, are ya, sis?” Alazné said with a hiss. Her sister’s face began to match the color of the crimson setting sky. A flailing hand slapped against the forearm Alazné had looped about Olivia’s neck. She loosened her grip and let Olivia fall to the shaggy forest floor. “Tapped out earlier today—maybe you’re the one that needs the training,” Alazné said, laughing a hearty guffaw to herself.
      “Oh, shut up!” Olivia said back with a snap, inhaling much-needed air, “I got you the other day, but I had the decency to let you go before your face changed colors and your eyes began to bulge!” She puffed and crossed her arms; her eyes sharpened.
      “Get over it! Sheesh, do you even know how to fight?” Alazné packed a punch of animosity behind those words and watched as Olivia’s eyes flamed with a threatening glare of death in its true form. The moment that followed was just an array of blurred body parts flogging towards Alazné.
      “I can’t see! What are you doing?” Alazné asked, raising her voice as if doing so would shield herself from another smack in the face. The two girls tumbled over one another onto jagged gravel and splintering shoots before Alazné managed to get up. With a dash of adrenaline, she suggested, “How about we race this out? Winner gets to stay home tomorrow; the loser has to do the winner’s training on top of her own!”
      “You’re on!” The two girls zipped away into an abyss of autumn colors merging into dark whispers of the woodland’s best-kept secrets. Streaks of brown and yellows surrounded the two, while their bodies bumped against trees and stumbled over logs. Hidden eyes peered in at the girls, decorating the spotted leaves with their unsettling presence.
      Exhaustion caught up to Alazné before a minute had ticked away, but she did her best to continue on, even when the discouraging sight of Olivia passing with her tongue slithered out scurried across her field of vision.
      Her vision blurred, her stomach yearned for something to eat, and her throat gasped for water, but what choice did she have at this point? Then she saw it: the end of the wood. It was so close within her grasp that she couldn’t give up now. Sparking up every last ounce of energy within her being, she managed to summon the remains of her body’s strength. She shoved Olivia aside as she passed, keeping her eye on the gleaming beacon that doubled as both a motivator and an exit.
      The sky above was a blanket of stars when Olivia and Alazné rushed out of the thicket—they were almost home, and the competition was more heated than ever. Alazné could see the tiny place they called home and could smell the homemade bread baking in the cottage just a few strides away. Just about eight more strides…she thought to herself, focusing on her new finish line.
      She caught up to Olivia, passed her and managed to stay in the lead for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a couple seconds in actuality. Alazné’s mouth was watering now—her mother’s fluffy bread invaded her concentration. She imagined the soft loaf, breaking apart into two perfect, steaming slices in her hand. Just about three more strides…two more…one…
      With a jump that startled Alazné back into reality, Olivia pounced on her from behind. They both skidded to the exit, tumbling over each other at the base of the door, clods of dirt packing into their mouths in large clumps.
      “Are you kidding me, Liv?” Alazné barked, spitting out half a mouthful of earth that had caked its way behind her teeth.
      “Hey, it’s the way you play the game,” Olivia replied with a smirk. Alazné sneered back, to which Olivia rolled her eyes, “You are sooo mature Alazné. Let’s go inside.” She wiped the dirt off of her faded, olive-tinted dress and took it out of the knot she had tied it into in order to be more comfortable while she trained.
      Alazné choked back pride and followed her sister into the cottage.
      “Mom, we’re back!” Olivia said, closing the door behind her. The melodic chime of her voice echoed through all three rooms in the humble home of the Zubiondo family.
      “Oh good, I’ve got supper on the stove,” their mother, Laurie, replied. Her spindly body rounded the corner from the bathroom—she was drying her hands on the apron wrapped in sloppy disarray around her waist.
      “How was training?” she asked with a smile. Her face showed lines of many years filled with laughs and worries, but even though her physical features most resembled Alazné, her emotional features mirrored that of her daughter Olivia’s.
      “It was all right,” Alazné said, sliding off her coat and heading for the hallway, “I’m going to wash up.”
      Creeping away from the conversation, she walked the couple of steps to the board that separated the bathroom from the rest of the house. Stepping inside the tiny chamber, Alazné allowed her mind to clear and fly to a world all her own, gently closing the door behind her.
      Alazné loved these moments when she entered her own personal haven—her mind and memories. Mud-smothered fingers she hardly recognized as her own caressed the crack beside the gaping hole where the doorknob used to be. She closed her eyes and thought back to the time when her father had wedged the shiny bronze knob perfectly into the hole he had carved into the wood. Her delight in helping him was so pure—she loved working with her hands.
      “You’re a natural carpenter, m’dear,” he would say to her, “You have special hands.” She remembered one time in particular when he told her those words. She’d carved a horse for his birthday out of extra shards of wood she’d found next to the woodpile outside. When she handed the smooth, finished project to him, he smiled the smile she’d inherited from his side of the family—the sly, slanted one with dimples meeting both ends.
      He picked her up and spun her around. She wrapped her arms around him.
      “I love you, Daddy,” she said. He made her feel special, wanted and safe. He believed in her when no one else would—when no one else knew she needed believing in. No one ever knew but him.
      “Hurry up in there! Your soup will get cold!” Laurie’s voice called out.
      Alazné found herself clutching the hole where the knob had once been, digging it deep into her palm, piercing the crease between her fingers a bit. She blinked to clear her vision and to wash away the tears that had apparently stained the wood a darker, shadow-like brown. Just for a moment.
      She grunted. This is ridiculous.
      She hated crying—ever since her father died—she cried so much that at one point she swore she had no tears left. She was convinced that she had leaked out her soul and was left lethargic, emotionless. Empty. Every time she cried, it reminded her of that day when her father died.
      Eventually, things got better and her cheer slowly bubbled back into her system. It was never the same, though, but she didn’t expect it to be. She was just grateful it came back at all. Everything had changed so drastically since then.
      Alazné and Olivia had never gotten along or tried to work together, but now they needed to.
      They worked together to get the family food, but there was still never any extra money. The only money they had were the few coins their mother made by selling knitted hats and mittens. Even the doorknobs had been sold for extra money. Luckily, the season was cooling, so people had been purchasing her items more frequently. Still, one woman could only make so much.
      Alazné let her fingers drop from the hole, the thoughts of her father falling away along with them. She turned towards the sink and jiggled the rusting faucet, anticipating its spouting fits of water to spurt a bit before running normally.
      Once they ceased and the tanned water began to clear, she scrubbed her hands and face, not paying any mind to whether she was rubbing too hard or being too rough. She just needed her mind to click back to the present—she needed the pain in her chest to weaken and disappear again. At least until next time.
      As she washed, Alazné took deep breaths, combing out the rugged, strained emotions that made up her sanity. She felt them pulling and tugging inside of her. As the soothing rush of icy water, calmed her own waters, Alazné began to compose herself again. The splinter in her heart was gone and she was back to the present. Muffled sounds of laughter emanated from the other side of the doorknob-less hole. Alazné turned off the faucet.
      Olivia was having a conversation with their mother about meeting some silly writer in the marketplace that morning or afternoon. Olivia always took “breaks” at their family shop in the mornings before coming back and doing hardly any work anyway—Alazné often wondered if Olivia was allergic to doing any sort of labor that wasn’t intellectually stimulating.
      “Alazné, I’m going to eat your soup!” Olivia called out with a laugh.
      Alazné made a face to herself. Olivia, she thought, shaking her head. Their mother found everything that Olivia did pure magic—too literally. Her Opari came early and was always of use to Mother, while Alazné spent time outside with their father. still not quite getting a grip on her Opari. An Angelnot was only as good as his or her Opari.
      Each Angelnot was given the gift of Opari as a sort of blessing at birth, along with fortunes as to what his or her life will hold— what types of things will bring that certain Angelnot joy and what he or she needs to avoid.
      The current Wizard of The Land was appointed to carry out this important duty to everyone in the surrounding areas. At least, that’s what everyone always said. Alazné had never seen him for herself.
      Still, there was no arguing with the fact that everyone had these special gifts, and each one was different. Olivia could make things grow just by looking at them and concentrating—if it wasn’t for that, they would have probably never had enough vegetables to eat properly or survive during the times when crops were scarce and not easily obtained.
      “I’m coming!” Alazné called back blandly, splashing water against her face one last time.
      A tattered cloth hung from a claw-shaped hook next to the chipped, cream-colored sink. Alazné snatched it up, dried her face and hands and set it carelessly on the small stone plateau that passed as the bathroom counter.
      Her fingers curled in slow, fond movements into that same nook where the doorknob used to be. The oak smelled nostalgic—cathartic even—so close to her skin. The mind will find every chance imaginable to drift off into one’s own world of escape and gratification, and Alazné had gotten used to taking up the offer more than a handful of times a day.
      Somewhere in her focus, she lost track of time. She didn’t notice this until there came a few booming thunks against the front door of the cottage.
      “Ah, Drezla! How nice to see you!” she heard her mother say in a cheery ring.
      Alazné shuddered.
      Drezla. There was a reason why her name sounded like a drooling pile of slime. Alazné never could stand that woman; she always said that Drezla’s appearance alone gave her the creeps. She looked like a lizard that someone had squeezed until its eyes were popping out of their sockets, and her personality was twice as hideous.
      It was obvious why Drezla had no friends, but Alazné often wondered why her mother took this woman as her friend. Then again, there were slim pickings in this town. Plus, Alazné’s family never really seemed to fit in due to their hereditary inclination to behave more like hermit crabs rather than social butterflies.
      Alazné braced herself as she opened the bathroom door and peered through the living room’s narrow entrance. Her eyelids were clenched tight, not wanting to face the horrific woman in the house. But, as her mother taught her growing up, it was rude not to greet guests with the rest of the family. Not like Alazné really cared about that, but it was a good excuse to go into the kitchen and get some food. By this point, Alazné’s stomach was growling in ravenous grunts.
      She walked into the entryway and passed the living room to see Drezla, Olivia, and her mother all sitting at the dinner table, staring skeptically at her, as if they doubted that she wouldn’t throw a dangerous tantrum at any moment. She walked over to the table pretending that she didn’t notice their expressions.
      Alazné took a seat across from Drezla.
      “Where’s Jezza?” she asked, picking up her spoon and dunking it into her stew.
      Drezla pursed her swollen-looking lips against her high cheekbones, which were so sharply defined that they looked like blades trying to dart away from Drezla’s face.
      “Town,” Drezla said in a tone as dry as her bulging eyes.
      Alazné gagged on the broth she’d just swallowed. Drezla’s eyes stared away from Alazné’s gaze as if Alazné was an unworthy candidate to look directly at.
      “She is working for the mayor, you know. It is an honorable and quite prestigious position.” Her eyes slunk their way back to Alazné’s face, accompanied by a sneering grin that slanted perfectly into an eerie crescent shape from years of practice.
      Alazné was drawn back to her childhood days with Jezza. Against Drezla’s horrid personality, Jezza was a peach dressed up like a garnished fruitcake.
      Before the schools closed down, Alazné and Olivia spent the better part of their weeks learning at the local schoolhouse, absorbing any information they could. While most of the students that trickled in every school session wore earthy tones that reflected the quaint frugality of Bizi-Herri’s citizens, Jezza would bounce in with brightly hued ribbons knotted in her tastefully braided hair and dark purple dresses that probably cost more than the entire town’s grocery budget for a year.
      Before the majority of Angelnots in Bizi-Herri were struck with great misfortune within their farms, fields, and even some mines by the famous storm that hit around a decade before, the night that Alazné could never forget—nor could her mother and sister, an actual schoolhouse was in use.
      Alazné and Olivia used to look forward to trotting down the hills every other day to go to the schoolhouse and be taught by the local teenagers and young adults. However, since the town’s laborers made up around 98% of Bizi-Herri, once the storm nearly destroyed all of the food and resources that the townsfolk depended on, nearly everyone over the age of five had to start working to make ends meet for the entire town.
      After the schools closed down all around the proximity of Bizi-Herri, the former students that had enjoyed learning picked up reading, while the others chose to play or rest with the majority of their free time. Both Olivia and Alazné enjoyed reading, but there was something about their fitness time in the woods that they especially enjoyed.
      Their father had made it a family rule when the schools closed down because he wanted them to continue getting physical exercise, other than the hours they spent tending to the crops and knitting until their fingers cramped.
      Real exercise was what he called it—they needed real exercise—for multiple reasons, but the one he always focused on was that they needed it just in case they ever needed to be ready for combat. Alazné had a feeling that her father knew more about the world and the future than he let on, but before she got old enough to ask with enough confidence and maturity to receive a straight answer, it was too late.
      Alazné’s mind roamed off for a bit as she thought back on her schooldays with Jezza, but as soon as her eyes received a flicker of Drezla’s face in the present moment, her blood began to boil once again.
      Alazné rolled her eyes and said, “Oh yes, she comes from quite the honorable family. How much did you spend buying her way into that position anyhow? Five hundred jebs? A thousand? Well, however much it was, I’m sure it cost more than a decade’s worth of food for the entire town. Oh, and do tell me what the mayor is up to these days? I haven’t seen him for so long that I’m beginning to think we have no legal or political system at all.”
      “That is quite enough, Alazné,” Laurie’s voice quavered in compressed fury. Alazné’s resentment sparked through her piercing green eyes—the brown flecks within them looked even more winding than usual.
      With a scoff, Alazné turned her head to peer out the murky window that never seemed to get cleaned despite her mother’s frequent, vigorous attempts.
      The mayor, she thought to herself, straining her brain for memories of any sort of engaging public figure. After that storm had struck the town barren, whatever mayor had been there before fled to the hills (or was murdered, or faked his death—there were mills upon mills of rumors speculating what really happened to him), and ever since then, their town just chose to plead ignorant against whoever was making the laws and protocols for everyone.
      Everyone seemed to pretend that everything would be okay and that whatever was going on in the capital was fine and dandy. It was easier than the alternative than choosing to go against everyone else and starve to death, or be banished. That’s what they thought anyway.
      If Bizi-Herri ever did get into any sort of trouble, though, the Angelnots would be a messy mass of chaos.
      Alazné looked back at her mother; her face was wrinkled and worn, and Alazné could tell by the way she was scowling that if she continued talking to Drezla, she would be deeply sorry—sorry in the sense that she would have kitchen duty and go without food for a meal or two; after all, that was the only punishment their mother could afford.
      Alazné accepted defeat. She looked back down at the frothy soup her mother had prepared for her. She poked her spoon around at the bobbing carrots and potato wedges. She drowned out the conversation taking place around her. She had more important things to think about—she was pretty sure that anyone would have more important things to think about than whatever Drezla would bring up.
      Alazné thought about her Opari and how she could hone her skills a little more, which was difficult because she wasn’t even sure what her Opari skills were yet. If only her father were here, he would know what to do.

About the Author:

Author Elise Pehrson is an award-winning writer, editor, publisher and journalist. She has interviewed stars from popular television shows and movies, such as The Walking Dead, Arrow, and Napoleon Dynamite.  She enjoys reading, writing and spending time with her family.

When An Omega Snaps blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!

When An Omega Snaps 
Eve Langlais
(A Lion’s Pride #3)
Publication date: August 6th 2015
Genres: Adult, Paranormal


Leo is the calm guy. The nice guy. The one nobody screws with. So could someone explain that to Meena so she stops driving him insane—with desire.

When Meena literally throws herself at Leo and declares he’s her mate, his first reaction is to deny—and run far, far away. This lion/tiger mix doesn’t do drama and chaos. Problem is, once he sets eyes on her, he can’t help but want the vivacious blonde with plus-sized curves, perfect for a big man like himself.

He wants her even if it breaks all his rules when it comes to women.
Wants her even if she destroys his serenity.
Wants her more than a perfectly grilled piece of steak with a dash of garlic, pepper, and salt.

Thing is, someone else wants her too.

This poor omega is about to have his world turned upside down, which means everyone better watch out because when Leo experiences love, jealousy, and frustration for the first time, he doesn’t just snap—he roars!




Chapter One

Leo was just minding his own business when he heard someone shout, “Heads up! Or is that heads down?”
Either way it didn’t matter. Leo caught the Frisbee with his noggin, which, given he was in the lobby of the condo complex he lived in, didn’t impress him one bit.
Some might have acted on that irritation—gone after the Frisbee tosser and scalped her. Others would have engaged in an unladylike tussle. But as the Pride’s omega, he had a certain standard to adhere to. Leo let the irritation roll off his really wide—so wide the college football coach almost cried when he wouldn’t play—shoulders.
With a nonchalance and calm that Leo strove to teach others, he kept walking toward the elevator, which happened to be where the purple disc landed. He refrained from crushing it. No need to blame the disc just because its thrower had poor aim.
An unfamiliar scent—feline and delicious—surrounded and brushed past him as a woman skipped by, intent on the Frisbee. The blonde, whom he didn’t recognize, stooped over to grab the plastic disc, her cropped athletic shorts molding every curve of her made-for-gripping ass and nibble-worthy thighs.
Everything about her was big, bold, and luscious.
Yummy. And it wasn’t just his inner beast that thought so.
Who is this delicious handful? He didn’t recall meeting her, and he certainly wouldn’t have forgotten her.
The unknown woman straightened and faced him, and by face him, he meant almost eye to eye, which was unheard of given he boasted a height of almost seven feet. Yet this woman with the wicked curves must have stood at least six foot one or a touch more.
She wasn’t dainty, not by any stretch, not with the way her impressive breasts strained at her T-shirt, distorting the cartoon on it that said, Delicate Freakn’ Flower. Her indented waist was accented by the flare of her hips, the quirk of her lips matched by the mirth in her eyes.
While not a man to allow himself to indulge in strong emotion, Leo was suddenly possessed of a powerful urge to drag this woman into his arms and…do decadent things that would get even his steady heart racing.
“Well, hello there, big fellow. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Indeed they hadn’t, or he would have remembered her—and remembered to avoid her because anyone could see by the saucy tilt to her hips and the appraising look in her eye that she spelled trouble.
Leo didn’t do trouble. He preferred calm moments. Serene outings. Quiet evenings. Very quiet. A quiet she disrupted with her Frisbee antics, so he took her to task. “You’re not supposed to play Frisbee inside. It’s one of the association rules.” He’d know since he helped draft them.
Leo liked rules, and he expected people to follow them. When any group of predators lived in close proximity, keeping hot tempers under control was important, hence his job to enforce the edicts and keep the peace.
“Aw, come on. Are you telling me there’s no playing inside either?” Her plump lower lip jutted. “Do you know I got in trouble by a nice policeman for playing on the street? Which was totally unfair. As if it was my fault that guy wasn’t pay attention and rear ended someone at the red light.”
“You were playing in the road?”
“Road, sidewalk, does it really matter? What’s more important is, if I can’t play inside, and I can’t play outside, where is a girl supposed to play?”
Upstairs, eleventh floor, condo unit 1101. His bedroom had plenty of room. Of course the sport he pictured didn’t involve any props. Nor did it include any clothes. But telling her she could play with him naked probably wasn’t the answer she looked for. “We don’t play in the city. Not enough room. That’s what the ranch is for.”
“Ah, the farm. That place is still around? Awesome.”
“You know of it?” He frowned. While not a closely guarded secret, only those with permission were allowed on the property. Since Leo tended to curate that list, he tended to know anyone who visited. But he couldn’t place her. “Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while since I visited. That’s what happens when a girl gets banned for a few years because of a few silly misunderstandings. Explode one carved pumpkin and people lose their minds. I see the lobby got repainted, no permanent harm done.”
Banned? Wait a second. He did know who this lady was. He’d heard Arik mention something about a cousin on his father’s side visiting for a bit. His words were actually, “Damned uncle asked me to let the brat come and hide out for a bit while some kind of calamity blows over in her hometown.”
To which Leo replied, “You know you can use the word ‘no’. I find it quite effective if I don’t want to get embroiled in unsavory situations.” The word no helped prevent a lot of unnecessary chaos.
Arik had laughed. “Say no to my uncle? Not happening. You haven’t met him yet. He’s the one guy I know who would make you look normal sized and when he’s not threatening to twist you into a pretzel, he’s the nicest guy you ever met. He’s also besieged by a set of troublemaking daughters.”
Both of whom had been banned by the previous pride alpha for causing too much damage and being a general nuisance.
While she had only recently arrived, Leo could already understand why the old king banished her. “You’re that troublemaker from out West, aren’t you?”
“Me, a troublemaker?” She fluttered her lashes. The problem was, with a mouth like hers, twisted into a smirk, she failed at the whole innocent look. “No, that’s my sister, Teena. I’m Meena, her twin, more commonly known as catastrophe. But you can call me your mate.”
With that, she flung herself on him and planted a big, juicy smooch on his lips.
And he liked it.


Hello, my name is Eve and I am a Canadian author who loves to write hot romance, usually with werewolves, cyborgs or aliens.

I should warn you that I possess a twisted imagination and a sarcastic sense of humor something I like to let loose in my writing. I enjoy strong alpha males, and shifters. Lots of big, overprotective shifters. I am also extremely partial to aliens, the kind who like to abduct humans and then drive them insane...with pleasure. Do you like something a little darker? Then check out my cyborgs whose battle with humanity have captivated readers worldwide.

I love to write, and while I don't always know what my mind is going to come up with next, I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a happily ever after.

Author links:

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Instruction Tour & Excerpt!

L.M. Pruitt

Publisher: SP Press

Publication Date: August 18, 2015


Genre: Erotica

Book Description:

Taylor Allerton's speakeasy is one of the hottest nightclubs in Manhattan. Young, rich, and beautiful, she can have any man she wants--and usually does.

Namir Adeem just became the youngest partner at one of the most prestigious accounting firms in Manhattan. His determination to bring honor to his family leaves no time for any relationship.

When Taylor discovers just how sheltered Namir is, she takes it upon herself to give him the education he deserves.

Some things can't be taught in school....

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 “I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve had to dissuade a woman in a bar.”
He barked out a laugh. “Ms. Allerton, I’ve spent more time in libraries and schoolrooms than in drinking establishments. I’ll confess, if you hadn’t intervened, I’m not sure how I would have handled your friend.”
“Look, I’ve already decided to hire you, so you really don’t need to continue plugging your education.”
“I assure you, that’s not my intention at all.” He coughed and scratched the side of his nose again. “I’m simply trying to inform you, as delicately as possible, that I am not used to this sort of… open culture.”
I stared at him, working to process his words. “I’m sorry, I’m not really following what you’re saying.”
“When I say I lack experience in certain areas, I mean I… lack experience.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “You do not achieve the success I have at my age without making some sacrifices along the way.”
“Oh.” As the full impact of his words sank in, my eyes widened involuntarily. “Oh. Oh, God. Now I’m even more sorry about Kennedy and how she acted and what she said and--.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Ms. Allerton. You have been beyond professional in every way.” He opened his eyes, tilting his chin down and studying me with a slight smile. “At least you have while in my presence.”
“Well, thank God we can’t get in trouble simply for having dirty thoughts.” I crossed my legs and laughed. “Although it’s probably only me having those thoughts.”
He sat silent for long minutes before clearing his throat. “You would be wrong, Ms. Allerton.”
I lifted my brows, tilting my head to the side. “Oh?”
“I hope this won’t impact our professional relationship but since you are being honest, so must I.” His gaze shifted to mine and I sucked in a breath. “I find you very attractive, Ms. Allerton.”
“In the spirit of continued honesty… my friend was right.” I picked up my glass, taking along sip of watered down tea. “I want to fuck you.”
“As flattering as I find your statement, I doubt it would be very good for you, all things considered.”
“Do you want me to teach you?” I hadn’t even known the thought was in my head until the words were echoing in the room but it was instantly an obsession. Slowly, I began sliding around the booth toward him. “I will—as much as you’re willing to learn.”
He dropped his gaze to the table, shifting restlessly. “You should check on your friend.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“It was a highly inappropriate question, Ms. Allerton.”
“Still not an answer.” I leaned closer, my mouth a half inch from his. “Do you want me to educate you or not?”
His lips parted on a sigh. “Yes. I do.”
“Wonderful.” I leaned back, pretending not to see the disappointment flash across his face. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

About the Author:

L.M. Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She knows this because she's killed bamboo. Twice.  She is the author of the Winged series, the Plaisir Coupable series, Jude Magdalyn series, the Moon Rising series, and Taken: A Frankie Post Novel.