Saturday, April 15, 2017

Fox Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Fox
Nana Malone
(The Player, #4)
Publication date: April 11th 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Sports

Money, power, prestige…washout. Fox Coulter is…the Player.
There is no Plan B for Fox. All he has is hockey. All he’s ever had is hockey. That and his best friend, Sasha. So when she’s up rent creek with no roommate, it’s Fox to the rescue. But, with the opportunity of a lifetime on the line will his hotter-than-sin-best friend be more of a distraction than his lucky charm?
Sasha Tenison believes everyone should have rules. Rules like:
• Don’t ogle your best friend while he works out shirtless. It doesn’t matter how many muscles or tattoos he has.
• Don’t fantasize about what he tastes like, even if it’s been years since anyone’s kissed you.
• Don’t sleep with your best friend just because he’s hot, sexy, and the only one to ever believe in you.
Breaking even one of these rules will ruin everything. But one toe curling kiss from Fox and she’s ready to change her name to Rule Breaker.



EXCERPT

This is just a kiss. Fox’s thoughts swirled in his head. Liar.
He gently brushed his lips to hers. There was an immediate spark.
What the hell?
Instead of pulling back, Fox chased that spark. Sasha parted her lips in a gasp, his tongue sliding into the warm depth of her mouth, asking hers to play. When she stroked her tongue against his, he moaned. He couldn’t help it. He deepened the kiss while his hand slid from her jaw into her hair.
Sasha reached up, her arms winding around his neck. Her fingers teased the hair at his nape.
Oh, hell, Fox thought. This was not supposed to—
Sasha arched her back into the kiss, pressing her breasts firmly against his body, and Fox lost total control as he continued to chase the spark as if it were pulling her further and further into him. He dove headfirst into the abyss.
The two of them had just entered completely uncharted territory. It started from something silly. Now it was all too serious. He leaned her backwards, both of them shifting and sliding until she lay along the length of the couch, Fox over her, his hips nestled between her thighs. His lips never leaving hers.
His dick rested against her burning heat as he pressed against her, begging her to let him in. His mind sought any remaining shred of control, but it was long gone. Sasha, his best friend, tasted fucking incredible. He couldn’t help but gently rock his hips against her, and what do you know, Sasha widened her legs to give him more room.
He held himself slightly above her, so as to not crush her with his full weight. All the while she rocked her hips up, seeking more of him, and he couldn’t help himself. In the matter of a minute they had gone from friendly kissing to desperately pawing at each other and he slipped his hand under her tank top.
She’s so damn soft. I just want a taste of her belly button, and up along the bottom of her ribcage.
Sasha arched up as if inviting him. God, yes. He wanted to slide his hand up farther still, cupping her fullness in his palm. He wanted to see how well they fit together. The thought had been clawing at him for so long. The alarm bells blared, but the devil on his shoulder just shouted over the din. Go on. Cup her. You know you want to. She wants it too. She wants your hands on her. Your thumbs on her nipple. But somehow rationality prevailed, and he just barely managed to keep from sliding his palm up over her full curves.
It took his lips longer to get the memo though. When they finally did, they staged a small mutiny before he dragged them away from hers as gently as he could. He kissed along her jaw-line and had to force himself to sit up and back away…all the way over to the far side of the couch. Whatever the hell had happened here was very dangerous. Destructive.
He couldn’t live without Sasha, he needed her like he needed to breathe. He knew what he was like, so he wasn’t going to ruin this by taking it to a point of no return. He took her hand and tugged her into a sitting position.
“Now that’s how that dipshit should have been kissing you.” he said before settling back against the couch like she hadn’t just rocked his whole world upside down.


Author Bio:
USA Today Best Seller, Nana Malone's love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she "borrowed" from her cousin.
It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She's been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.
While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.
Want to know when the next book is coming? Hit up her Newsletter here. You'll only get updated when there is a new release or a special promotion for her Sexy, Sassy Readers. http://eepurl.com/2PeXb

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Friday, April 14, 2017

Match Made Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Match Made: Bad Boys and Show Girls
Amélie S. Duncan
(Love and Play, #2)
Publication date: April 10th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Sports

In order to win his heart, she’ll have to play the game… 
All over Broadway, my name is up in lights. From New York to London, the words ‘Gemma Sinclair’ are synonymous with up-and-coming fame, and a super-fast rise to success.
Yeah, well, super isn’t how I feel…
Between my deadbeat addict of an ex-boyfriend and the stress of my parents relying on me back home—sometimes I feel like the ground beneath my feet is slipping away.
Until I crossed paths with Knox Callahan, the hot and sexy as hell veteran player for the New York Football Club—and a total player when it comes to women. A year after our disastrous first date, I’m still in no position to have anything to do with a guy like him.
But then right at my lowest, here he comes, riding back into my life and offering me something I’ve been desperately longing for—support. And truth.
And, well, the truth is—now I can’t for the life of me remember why I didn’t want to be a part of his team… 
Author’s Note: This is a standalone from the Love and Play Series. It’s HEA, No cheating friends-to-lovers contemporary romance with some sports, a loving alpha dominant male, strong female lead, and a little smut between the steam


EXCERPT

“You didn’t sleep with him, did you, Gem?” Brooke said in a sleepy voice laced with undisguised disapproval the second I answered.
I snorted, though I wasn’t surprised at Brooke’s question. I had jumped into sex and asked questions later during the time she and I lived together. Sex made me feel better when I didn’t feel good. But later I felt empty. “No, I haven’t. I’m in the spare room.”
She sighed into the phone. “Good.”
“Who’s fucking?” I heard Dylan’s voice in the background.
“Private conversation here,” she grumbled back at him.
“No. I’m over at his house. I was drinking at Fuel, and he showed up,” I said, explaining a little of what was going on with Benjamin, leaving out the gambling, and my lack of funds.
“I thought you broke up a while ago?” she said confusion evident in her tone.
“We did. He disappeared for a while and then came back, and I made the mistake of giving him a second chance. He’s still on the lease,” I grumbled.
“Just tell the manager and move out,” she suggested.
“Yeah. I suppose I could,” I muttered. I could if I hadn’t moved in and been added to his lease. Since he’d practically cleared my bank account, I didn’t have the last, or first months’ rent, nor the security deposit that most places required up front. I couldn’t even afford a place of my own once he left. It had gone tits up, but that was for me to sort out.
“As for Knox,” she continued, “you don’t want to rebound with him. I hate to be selfish, but my wedding plans are at stake. The two of you sleeping together and it going bad could make for an awkward wedding day.”
“I’m not rebound hooking up with Knox. He offered to let me stay over tonight. That’s all. Your wedding is saved, Bridezilla,” I joked. Half-joked. Brooke was being a right fairy princess when it came to her wedding.
“Okay. That came out wrong,” she said apologetically. “I just don’t want you hurt. Knox likes the ladies. He’ll sleep with you, but it won’t go any further than that. He’s not boyfriend material.”
The phone muffled.
I heard Dylan’s voice faintly say, “I’ll go if you let me speak to her.”
“Dylan wants to speak to you,” she said. Her voice was strained.
“Alright,” I agreed. Dylan was fine. I didn’t mind his insight.
She switched the phone over to him. “Gemma. Ignore Brooke’s cock-blocking. Knox wouldn’t mind the rebound fuck. Trust me. He’s over that silly shit from that dinner. You go on. Just don’t be weird at the wedding and we’ll all be good.”
“No, that’s terrible advice, Dylan,” Brooke said once she was back. “She’s my friend, and I want her to find someone who wants a relationship.”
I sighed. Brooke was deliriously happy with Dylan, and I knew she wanted me to have the same. I agreed with her. I didn’t see how Knox and I would go together apart from sex. I wanted more than that for myself.
“Seriously,” she said. “If you’re a little interested in Knox…I know you just saw him again. But now that you have…”
“He’s surprisingly nice.” And gorgeous. Although annoyingly narrow-minded about a few drinks out. I hadn’t been off my head or anything.
“It all just came as a shock, him stepping in and carrying me away to his home.” I explained what happened.
“Dylan would have done the same. Some of the players are a bit out there. Nice could hold an ulterior motive.”
I laughed. It was Brooke’s way of saying “sleazy.”
“But they have good hearts. They’re very protective of and caring about each other’s families. If Knox hadn’t been there and Dylan had seen you, he’d have done the same thing. You know, since you’re not going to have sex, he could be a good friend in the city.”
I glanced over at the door. I had my doubts, though I told her, “Yeah. Maybe.”


Author Bio:
Amélie S. Duncan writes contemporary, erotic romances with a dark edge. Her inspiration comes from many sources including her life experiences and travels. She lives on the West Coast of the United States with her husband. 



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Turning Back Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Turning Back
J.A. Huss
(Turning #2)
Publication date: April 12th 2017
Genres: Erotica, Romance, Suspense

I lived in the dark for three years. My whole world revolved around the whims and happiness of three men. It was just a trip into the forbidden. A way out of a bad situation and forward into nothingness.
Quin, with his easy smile and charming good looks. He was always there for me… Until he wasn’t.
Smith, and his dispassionate attention. He was never there for me and he never regretted it.
Bric, the one who listened, but only to himself. Self-absorbed, self-obsessed, and self-serving. He was never the one I wanted.
And now he might be the only one I have left.
It was good while it lasted, I guess. But it could’ve been so much more. It could’ve been so much better.
And that’s why I’m turning back.



EXCERPT

“So then what happened?” Bric asks.
We’re sitting at our booth in the White Room. Before I left, I’d sit in the middle of the bench, Quin would sit across from me in a chair, and Bric would sit to my left.
Bric is still to my left, Quin isn’t here yet—if he’s coming at all—and Adley is in her baby seat on my right.
Everything is familiar—but off.
“Then he went to bed.”
“What’d you do?”
“I sat there on the couch for a while trying to figure out what happened.”
“What did you come up with?” Bric is looking very intently at me. Like everything I’m saying is critically important.
“He hate-fucked me, that’s what I came up with, Bric!”
“Rochelle,” Bric says, throwing me one of those Don’t overreact looks.
“I’m serious. There’s no other explanation for it. He hate-fucked me. Revenge fuck. Whatever you want to call it. That’s what happened last night.” I sigh and try not to feel depressed and sad. “And then this morning I got out of bed to go check on Adley when she woke up, and when I came back, he was gone.”
“Gone?” Bric asks. “Where’d he go?”
“Just left,” I say. “I texted him. Asked if he’d be here for breakfast. And he never texted back.”
“He’s just mad,” Bric says.
“I know.” I huff. “He told me that last night too. He spelled it out very clearly. He was worried about me. Sad about my leaving. But then when I came back—”
“Now he’s just angry.”
“Right.”
“It’s a pretty typical reaction,” Bric says.
“I realize that. Which is why I’m not going to make a big deal about this. But I don’t know if this is going to work, Bric. He might not want me. He might just want to hurt me. Exactly the way I hurt him.”
“No,” Bric says, like I’m being ridiculous.
“I’m not being ridiculous,” I say. “Maybe he’s not out to hurt me. But he’s doing something, Bric. He’s playing a game, but I’m pretty sure we’re not all playing the same game.”
“He’s mad, Rochelle. You have to expect that. He’s gonna come around.”
“What does that mean? Come around? Do you really think he’s gonna fall back in love with me the way he was? Because I don’t. I think he’s here for us. Me, you, and him together. And that’s all.”
Bric rubs his hand across his scratchy jaw as he thinks this over, so I check on Adley. She fell asleep in the car on the way over here and hasn’t woken up yet. Bric is still thinking.
“I don’t want an us, Bric.”
He looks me in the eye and says. “I do. But I get it. And I’m fine with you and Quin getting your little happy ending. But I’m telling you, Rochelle, he’s just trying to protect himself right now and the best way to let him work that out and ensure you two get back together is to have an us.”
“He said he doesn’t trust me.”
“He has a good reason,” Bric counters.
“I know that,” I say, starting to get angry. “I understand that. But the whole point of us doing this… game… or whatever it is, was so that you can help me figure this out. I want him, Bric. You’re supposed to help me.”
But as soon as the words come out of my mouth I realize how stupid that is. I trust no one and I have very good reasons for that. I’ve learned over the course of my life that people are selfish. People are out for themselves. People are liars. I have a lot of experience in being lied to.
Elias Bricman definitely fits all those assumptions I have about people. And then some.


Author Bio:
JA Huss is the USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.
You can chat with her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AuthorJAHuss), Twitter (@jahuss), and her blog, New Adult Addiction (www.jahuss.com).
If you’re interested in getting your hands on an advanced release copy of her upcoming books, sneak peek teasers, or information on her upcoming personal appearances, you can join her newsletter list (http://eepurl.com/JVhAr) and get those details delivered right to your inbox.

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Thursday, April 13, 2017

The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!


The Unlikeable Demon Hunter
Nava Katz
Book One
Deborah Wilde

Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance

Publisher: Te Da Media

Date of Publication: April 18, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-9920709-8-4
ISBN: 978-0-9920709-9-1
ASIN: B01MR8GI6B

Number of pages: 420
Word Count: 87,400

Cover Artist: Damonza

Book Description:

Bridesmaids meets Buffy with a dash of the seven deadly sins.

The age-old story of what happens when a foul-mouthed, romance impaired heroine with no edit button and a predilection for hot sex is faced with her worst nightmare–a purpose

Ari Katz is intelligent, driven, and will make an excellent demon hunter once initiated into the Brotherhood of David. However, this book is about his twin Nava: a smart-ass, self-cultivated hot mess, who is thrilled her brother is stuck with all the chosen one crap.

When Nava half-drunkenly interrupts Ari’s induction ceremony, she expects to be chastised. What she doesn’t expect is to take her brother’s place among the–until now–all-male demon hunters. Even worse? Her infuriating leader is former rock star Rohan Mitra.

Too bad Rohan’s exactly what Nava’s always wanted: the perfect bad boy fling with no strings attached, because he may also be the one to bring down her carefully erected emotional shields. That’s as dangerous as all the evil fiends vying for the bragging rights of killing the only female ever chosen for Demon Club.

Odds of survival: eh.

Odds of having a very good time with Rohan before she bites it: much better.


Excerpt:

Mornings after sucked.
Walks of shame were a necessary evil, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed shimmying back into the same trollop togs twice. I picked glitter out of my hair, then straightened my sequined top. I was officially decommissioning it. Multiple washings never quite managed to remove the lingering aura of bad decisions I made while wearing party clothes. My philosophy? Cross my fingers and hope for the most bang for the bucks spent later on new outfits.
The surly cabbie evil-eyed me to hurry up.
I complied, rooting around in my clutch for some crumpled bills before handing them over and stumbling out of the taxi onto the sidewalk.
Fresh air was a godsend after the stale bitter coffee smell I’d been trapped with during the ride. I pressed a finger to my temple, a persistent dull throb stabbing me behind my eyeballs. My residual feel good haze clashed big-time with the glaring sun screaming at me to wake up, and the buzz of a neighbor’s lawnmower cutting through the Sunday morning quiet didn’t help matters. Best get inside.
Smoothing out my mini skirt, I readied myself for my tame-my-happy-slut-self-to-boring-PG-rating body check when a wave of dizziness crashed through me. Whoa. I brought my gaze back to horizon level, swallowing hard. That sea-sickness technique was doing dick-all so I rummaged in my bag for my ginger chews.
No puking in the bushes, I chided myself, letting the spicy smooth and sweet candy fight my nausea. My mother would toss my bubble ass out if I defiled her precious rhodos.
Again.
The rise and fall of my chest as I took a few deep breaths spotlit a slight problem. My spangly blouse was missing two buttons. And I was missing a bra. Hook-up Dude had been worth the loss of a pair of socks, maybe a bargain bin thong. But the latest in purple push-up technology? No. I allowed myself a second to mourn. It had been a good and loyal bra.
The sex, on the other hand? Total crap. The girls, who were normally perky C cups, seemed a bit subdued. I couldn’t blame them. What’s-his-name had started out with all the promise of a wild stallion gallop, but he’d ended up more of a gentle trot. I didn’t know if the fault lay with the jockey or the ride, but it had been a long time since I’d seen a finish line.
Since I couldn’t keep examining my tits on the front walk with Mrs. Jepson side-eyeing me from behind her living room curtains, I thrust my chin up and clacked a staccato rhythm toward my front door on those mini torture chambers that had seemed such a good idea yesterday.
Every step made our precisely manicured lawn undulate. I clamped my lips shut, willing the ginger chews to kick in while fumbling my key into the lock. Dad had screwed up the measurements on our striking cedar and stained glass front door and, being a touch too big for the frame, it needed to be shouldered open.
I crashed into the door like a linebacker. Once I’d extricated myself and my keys from the lock, I brushed myself off, and stepped inside. Our house itself was comfortably upper middle class but not huge, since my parents preferred to spend money on trips and books instead of the overpriced real estate found in here in Vancouver. A quick glance to my left showed that the TV room was empty. I crossed my fingers that Mom and Dad were out at their squash game, my main reason for picking this specific time to sneak back in.
Really, a twenty-year-old shouldn’t have had to sneak. But then again, a twenty-year-old probably should have kept her last menial job for longer than two weeks, so I wasn’t in a position to argue rights.
I kicked off my shoes, sighing in delight at the feel of cool tile under my bare feet as I padded through the house to our homey kitchen. No one was in there either. Someone, probably Mom, had tacked the envelope with my final–and only–pay stub from the call center that I’d left lying around onto our small “miscellaneous” cork board. The gleaming quartz counters were now free of their usual clutter of papers, books, and latest gourmet food find. That meant company. Come to think of it, I did hear someone in the living room.
A study in tasteful shades of white, the large formal room was off-limits unless we had special guests. Mom had set that rule when my twin brother Ari and I were little tornados running around the place and while there was no longer a baby gate baring our way, conditioning and several memorable scoldings kept us out.
Hmmm. Could Ari be entertaining an actual human boy? Le gasp.
I beelined for the back of the house, past the row of identically framed family photos hanging in a neat grid, my head cocked. Listening for more voices, but all was quiet. Maybe I’d been wrong? I hoped not. Both finding my brother with a crush–blackmail dirt–and helping myself to the liquor cabinet were positive prospects. What better way to lose that hangover headache than get drunk again? Oh, the joys of being Canadian with socialized health care and legal drinking age of nineteen. After a year (officially) honing that skill, I imbibed at an Olympic level.
The red wine on the modular coffee table gleamed in a shaft of sunlight like its position had been ordained by the gods. I snatched up the crystal decanter, sloshing the liquid into the glass conveniently placed next to it. Once in a while, a girl could actually catch a break.
I fanned myself with one hand. The myriad of lit candles seemed a bit much for Ari’s romantic encounter, but wine drinking trumped curiosity so I chugged the booze back. My entire body cheered as the cloyingly-sweet alcohol hit my system, though I hoped it wasn’t Manischewitz because hangovers on that were a bitch. I’d slugged back half the contents when I saw my mom on the far side of the room clutch her throat, eyes wide with horror. Not her usual, “you need an intervention” horror. No, her expression indicated I’d reached a whole new level of fuck-up.
“Nava Liron Katz,” she gasped in full name outrage.
My cheeks still bulging with wine, I properly scoped out the room. Mom? Check. Dad? Check. Ari? Check? Rabbi Abrams, here to perform the ceremony to induct my brother as the latest member in the Brotherhood of David, the chosen demon hunters?
Check.
I spit the wine back into what I now realized was a silver chalice and handed it to the elderly bearded rabbi. “Carry on,” I told him. Then I threw up on his shoes.



About the Author:

A global wanderer, hopeless romantic, and total cynic with a broken edit button, Deborah writes adult urban fantasy to satisfy her love of smexy romances and tales of chicks who kick ass. She is all about the happily-ever-after, with a huge dose of hilarity along the way. “It takes a bad girl to fight evil. Go Wilde.”




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Immortal Fire Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Immortal Fire
Annette Marie
(Red Winter Trilogy #3)
Publication date: April 11th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

Once, Emi believed the heavenly gods were righteous and wise, while the earthly yokai spirits were bloodthirsty and evil. But with a traitorous deity poised to destroy her world, and the yokai standing as humanity’s only defense, the lies of her upbringing have toppled to reveal a far more terrifying reality.

Despite the looming threat, Emi can’t escape her greatest distraction: Shiro, the fox yokai who has so deftly claimed her heart for his own. Soon—too soon—she will have to break the curse that binds his magic and memories. And once the ancient power inside him awakens, the yokai she loves will be changed forever.
As the earthly gods gather to wage war against the heavens, Emi and Shiro must gamble everything to turn the tide against their immortal, all-powerful foes. Together, they will find a way to save her world—even if it means losing each other.


Each book in the Red Winter Trilogy includes ten stunning illustrations by award-winning artist Brittany Jackson.
This is an exclusive preview of one illustration featured in Immortal Fire.


EXCERPT

Violent shivers pulled Emi from the depths of sleep. The chill in the room cut right through the layers of blanket and kimono, and her toes ached from the cold. Curled in a tight ball beneath her blankets, she exhaled harshly, half expecting her breath to fog the air.
Beyond the thin partition that separated her sleeping quarters from the rest of the room, the windows rattled in a fierce wind. A winter storm? A feverish ache throbbed in her muscles, though she didn’t think she had slept for more than a few hours.
Yawning, she forced her tired body off the futon. Cold hit her like a splash of frigid water but even that wasn’t enough to dispel her drowsy daze. A short, fumbling search uncovered no extra blankets in the closet within her small alcove. Wrapping an arm around herself for warmth, she slid a panel open and peeked into the main room.
The remains of Shiro and Yumei’s late dinner had been cleared from the table, and the unlit brazier was devoid of light or warmth. Across the room, a second futon had been laid out near Shiro’s, and dark shapes filled both.
Trust the yokai to sleep right through the freezing cold. Behind their futons was a larger closet where bedding was stored. Surely there would be an extra blanket in there. She stumbled toward it in exhaustion. Her chest felt hollow and empty, and some of the chill that plagued her emanated from within.
As she crossed the room, an icy breeze rushed across her. Jerking back a step, she turned toward the sliding garden doors. A six-inch gap revealed the night-swathed garden beyond, where snow flew almost horizontally in the wind.
Why on earth had they left the door open? With a tired scowl, she yanked it shut. The room immediately felt warmer. Shaking her head, she stopped at the foot of Shiro’s futon, the light from the window glimmering on his white hair. Not that long ago, she had woken him from a nightmare, and he had thrown her into a wall before rousing enough to realize he was about to rip her throat out. Attempting to sneak between their futons to reach the closet was probably unwise.
“Shiro?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
He didn’t stir. Neither did Yumei, who slept on his back with his head turned away, his hair splayed untidily across his face in a way that was very unlike the usually reserved yokai. He rarely slept when anyone else was nearby, at least as far as she’d seen. Maybe her ki had tired him.
“Shiro?” she tried again more loudly.
When he again didn’t move, not even a twitch of his ears, a nervous prickle climbed her spine. Shiro
wasn’t that deep of a sleeper. And why hadn’t her clumsy banging of the garden door woken them? A spike of adrenaline cut through her drowsiness as she realized how unlikely it was that Shiro and
Yumei would go to sleep with a door ajar. Had the wind blown it open? Or … something else?
She scoured the room, but it was clearly empty. Biting the inside of her cheek, she stepped between the futons and crouched.
“Shiro,” she called. “Wake up!”
No reaction. Hoping he wouldn’t attack her, she touched his shoulder. He slept on, eyes closed, face slack. Her apprehension intensified into real fear.
“Shiro!” She gripped his shoulder and shook it, but he still didn’t wake or so much as stir. Was she dreaming? Was this a nightmare? She spun around and reached for Yumei.
“Yumei, wake up! Please wake up!” She shook him but he was as unresponsive as Shiro. In desperation, she hit his shoulder with her open palm, yelling his name. “What’s wrong with you? Wake up!”
As she turned, intending to grab a handful of snow from outside to shove in Shiro’s face, the air above him shimmered strangely. She went rigid, squinting into the darkness.
A shadow took form. A small body, thin limbs, ragged black hair. The ghostly child crouched on Shiro’s chest, her blank, bottomless stare fixed on Emi.
Her heart thudded in her ears. A kanashibari, the dream-weaving yokai that had been watching Emi in the bath. That was what she’d forgotten to warn Shiro about! And now it was sitting on him, and he wouldn’t wake up.
She lurched back to Yumei. A second kanashibari appeared before her, perched on his torso. The new one, another little girl with short, stringy hair and a pale kimono, looked up at Emi with empty black eyes.
The child’s lips pulled up in a rictal grin, and her tiny arm shot out.
Emi shoved the yokai away, but her hands passed right through the spectral body, feeling nothing but frosty air.
The yokai reached for her face and a small, frigid, solid palm pressed against her forehead. A wave of burning ice surged into Emi’s skull, blanketing her thoughts. Impossible, unyielding drowsiness crashed through her.
Before she could react, before she could even think about resisting, she collapsed on top of Yumei’s unconscious body and slid into darkness.

The complete trilogy:

Available now on Amazon!

Author Bio:
Annette Marie is the author of the Amazon best-selling Steel & Stone series, which includes Goodreads Choice Award nominee Yield the Night, and fantasy trilogy Red Winter. Her first love is fantasy, but fast- paced urban fantasy and tantalizing forbidden romances are her guilty pleasures. She lives in the frozen winter wasteland of Alberta, Canada (okay, it's not quite that bad) with her comparatively sensible husband and their furry minion of darkness—sorry, cat—Caesar. When not writing, she can be found elbow-deep in one art project or another while blissfully ignoring all adult responsibilities. 

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Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Fire and Ice Tour & Excerpt!


Fire and Ice
Braden Quinn

Genre: Erotica

Publisher: Beyond the Moon Press

Date of Publication: April 1 2017

ASIN: B06XJR9M4T

Word Count: 16,000

Cover Artist: The Cover Collection

Tagline: Nothing is off limits

Book Description:

Ice by day and fire by night, that’s how I roll. In a crazy existence that’s driven by excessive amounts of money, hot women, and insatiable sexual thirst, I live the life of a rock star. This diary chronicles nine sexual encounters that would have never happened if I wasn’t one of the most well-known players in the best hockey league in the world.

My name is Braden Quinn, and I play for the New York Rangers. So, sit back, and enjoy my erotic memoir.

Excerpt:

 All I really want is a drink—a cold, freshly opened bottle of Stella, the bubbles rising to the top and into my parched mouth. As I wait for the bartender, across the room, I glimpse hints of pink lace as she bends down to retrieve her glass from the floor. When she stands back up, her micro-mini black dress barely covering the pert curves of her backside, her baby-blue eyes meet mine, and she grins knowingly. She locks in my attention as she walks over in her five-inch heels, keeping to the beat of theWeeknd track pumping from the DJ booth. I am spellbound. I don’t know her name or where she’s from. I hope she’s of age—even just barely will do.

As she gets nearer, her smile fades, and she looks to my left. I wonder if I misread the signals and if she was actually smiling at someone else. But then she stops just in front of me and turns around. I have no idea what’s going on, especially when I feel her soft hand touch mine. She runs her deliciously sharp nails up and down my hand, sending a tickle of excitement through me. I cup her hand, and she entwines her fingers through mine. I want—need—to feel her back against me to comfort my throbbing cock. I grab hold of her waist, her hand still in mine, and firmly pull her closer to me. As her butt presses like a cushion against me, she grinds a little, the top of her head tickling my chin. Then, taking me by surprise, she forcefully glides my unresisting hand down from the small of her lower back—where her straight, shimmering chestnut hair ends in wisps of loose waves—to her exposed smooth thigh. I forget my need for beer.

About the Author:

Braden Quinn is a Canadian professional ice hockey player who lives in New York City.


Bad Bloods Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


July Thunder
Shannon A. Thompson
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: April 10th 2017
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

From best-selling author Shannon A. Thompson comes an exciting new duology in the Bad Bloods universe. 
Fourteen-year-old Violet has been called many things: a bad blood, a survivor, an immortal…now she has a new name–citizen. But adjusting to a lawful life is not easy, especially when she must live under the rule of the same officers who justified the killings of her flock only eight months earlier.

Segregation of bad bloods and humans is still in effect, and rebellious Violet steps into a school where she is not allowed. When the police get involved, things deteriorate quickly, sparking a new revolution at the wall separating the Highlands from the outskirts.

That’s when Caleb steps in. He might appear to be an average sixteen-year-old bad blood, but he has secrets, and Violet is determined to figure them out. Caleb knows who’s attacking the wall and why, but his true identity remains a mystery–and how he relates to Violet could shake the threatened city to its very core.

Together or not, a storm will form, a rally will start, and shocking truths will be revealed.



EXCERPT

While the Northern Flock had to be quiet to survive, the herd played music in order to live.
Caleb’s hand found mine. “Dance with me?” he asked, but I hated my answer.
“I can’t.” My confession came with my wrecked knee. With one gesture, Caleb seemed to understand, but as he turned his eyes to his herd—to Britney prancing around with Plato, to Kat covering her ears, to Yasir holding Hanna with his protective gloves between them—Caleb pulled me up to my feet.
“Let me do it for you,” he said, and then, he lifted me up and placed me on the tops of his boots.
As he swayed, I saw the sunburn on the tops of his cheeks, the sand in his hair, the sea salt on his skin. Then, his chapped lips as he managed a shaky smile. For once, Caleb looked disheveled, and I had never liked him more.
“That’s some crew you have,” he said, but I hadn’t noticed anyone else in the world around us until he spun.
Life-sized shadows—dozens of them—danced all around us, and I recognized their shapes as people I would always know. Blake and his teddy bear. Floyd’s stretched limbs, and Ami’s swinging braids. Even Adam’s speed.
Alive or dead, the shadows of every member of my own flock joined in on the dance of a herd, and my heart fluttered at the sight.
Losing control had never felt so great.
Neither had a storm descending down upon us.


Author Bio:
Shannon A. Thompson is a young adult author, avid reader, and a habitual chatterbox.
As a novelist, poet, and blogger, Thompson spends her free time writing and sharing ideas with her black cat, Bogart, named after her favorite actor, Humphrey Bogart. Her other two cats bring her coffee. Between writing and befriending cats, Thompson graduated from the University of Kansas with a bachelor’s degree in English with an emphasis on creative writing, and her work has appeared in numerous poetry collections and anthologies. Represented by Clean Teen Publishing, Thompson is the best-selling author of The Timely Death Trilogy and the Bad Bloods duology. When she is not writing, she is climbing rooftops, baking cookies, or watching murder shows in the middle of the night, often done with her cats by her side.
Visit her blog for writers and readers at www.ShannonAThompson.com. 

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Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Spellbound Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Spellbound: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

Bleeding Hearts
Ash Krafton

Genre: fantasy/ paranormal romance/ urban fantasy

Publisher: genreCRAVE

Date of Publication: May 2, 2017

ASIN: B01N18NFS9

Number of pages: 5000+
Word Count: 1.5 Million +

Cover Artist: Rebecca Frank

Box Set Description:

The Spellbound Boxed Set is a compilation of 20+ Full-Length Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance reads!

Readers of all ages will be swept away by this fascinating mix of existing titles and brand new content, full of pages brimming with faeries, witches, vampires, shifters, psychics, Greek gods, angels, demons, and even ghosts!

With over a million words of fiction, this is your one stop shop for urban fantasy, epic fantasy, sword and sorcery, shifter romance, vampire romance, elemental magic, time travel, and MORE from today’s New York Times, USA Today, and internationally bestselling authors!

Although some of these reads may be gritty and dark, this is a collection of clean reads that anyone will enjoy!

Pre-Order Sale Only .99

Amazon      Kobo      BN      Apple


The collection includes titles from…

International bestselling author Jade Kerrion
NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author Joanne Wadsworth
International bestselling author Nicole Zoltack
International bestselling author Rachel E. Carter
International bestselling author Andrea Pearson
International bestselling author Alicia Rades
International bestselling author Sophie Davis
USA TODAY bestselling author Michael J Ploof
International bestselling author Megan Crewe
International bestselling author C.E. Wilson
International bestselling author Kelly Carrero
International bestselling author Jess Haines
International bestselling author E. Blix
International bestselling author Alexis Kade
International bestselling author GP Ching
International bestselling author Gaja J. Kos and Boris Kos
International bestselling author Dara Fraser
International bestselling author Ash Krafton
International bestselling author Jim Johnson
NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author Tom Shutt
International bestselling author Emily Martha Sorensen
International bestselling author S McPherson

 The first chapters of books by each featured author are available in the Spellbound Sampler, available on Wattpad


Book Description Bleeding Hearts by Ash Krafton

Sophie Galen is an advice columnist whose work leaves her neck-deep in other people's problems. Thanks to her compassion, her gut instinct, and her magnetic charm, Sophie really knows how to attract little black clouds.

Marek Thurzo is no little black cloud; he's a maelstrom. Marek is Demivampire, a race with the potential to evolve into vampire. A warrior who's taken his share of spiritual damage, he hovers dangerously close to destruction.

He seeks salvation. She's driven to save him. But what if he can't be saved?

Sympathy for his plight becomes true empathy as Sophie's hidden nature is revealed. Marek suspects she may be one of the Sophia, oracle and redemption of the damned Demivampire. She alone can turn back the evolutionary clock.

All she needs is the courage to face her fears. Can she save him from Falling?

The following is an excerpt from BLEEDING HEARTS Demimonde Book 1 by Ash Krafton

In the great hall housing the Egyptian exhibitions, I immediately noted the change in the atmosphere. The room was cool and dry, its climate controlled to mimic the conditions in which the relics had existed in their native land.
The entire room had been designed to resemble an Old Kingdom temple. The main lights were dimmed while strategically-placed spotlights emphasized massive columns and magnificent wall carvings like sunbeams through temple windows.
I scanned the room. No other tourists. Even better. I meandered, enjoying the rare opportunity to linger.
Craning my neck, I ran my gaze up each of the columns, reading the images, admiring the palm leaves carved at the tops like great stone trees. Eyes toward the ceilings, I turned slowly around, admiring the handiwork of the ancient artists.
What was it like to live in those lands and those times? Could an ancient version of my spirit have been there, stepping barefoot and silently through a sandy temple like this one?
Lost in contemplation, I was completely unprepared for the shock of smacking into someone, bumping him hard enough to lose my balance. I'd have fallen had he not caught my arm. Wide-eyed with consternation, I stammered an apology to the handsome but serious-faced gentleman.
"You are not hurt, I hope?" His voice, deep and smooth, sent shivers marching down my neck, between my shoulders, down my spine.
"I'm okay." I shook my head, too shy to make direct eye contact, wishing I'd checked my hair and lipstick before coming in. "I'm far too adept at being inept."
He flashed a grin and I caught a glimpse of nice white teeth. "Temples are places for spiritual reflection. It is forgivable if your vision was turned inward, rather than toward where you were walking."
His expression softened by amusement, he tilted his head toward the pillars. "Majestic, aren't they?"
I stole another glance at him—black hair smoothed back into a discreet tail, clear light skin framed by long sideburns, strong jaw culminating in a square, cleft chin. Like the other items in the museum, something about him made me want to look closer, inspect each detail.
A subtle flush warmed my cheeks and ears so I quickly turned back to the heights of the exhibition. Murmuring a sound of agreement, I circled the column, stepping a few feet away so I could see both him and the stone. "Do you visit this museum often?"
Furtive glances allowed me to take in more of his appearance a tiny section at a time. Clothing dark as his hair. Long blazer, something in between a suit coat and an overcoat. In one hand he carried a bound book and fountain pen, as if he'd been making notes.
His gaze was calm and steady and entirely on me. Taking a deep breath I permitted the contact of the direct look. My boldness was well-rewarded. His Paul Newman lips brought to mind the sculptured busts on display in the Greco-Roman Quarters and he wore a stern expression that cast a veil of hardness upon his features, enhancing the impression he'd been carved from marble.
Except for his eyes. The Roman busts bore eyes that were blank and white but this man's eyes were alive with bright green color. Like gemstones, they glittered and drew my gaze.
"No, actually," he said. "My first time here. Although, I admit, I'm drawn to places like this." His voice made music of the words—deep bass notes and soothing rhythm.
"Ah!" I said. "A man after my own heart." His left eyebrow arched so sharply I thought it might disappear into his hairline and I hurriedly continued. "Are you a professor?"
"No, nothing like that. I do studying of my own, it's not a living. It's more of a hobby. Personal research, of sorts."
"Studying past times is one of my pastimes. It's my preferred form of entertainment."
"Mmm." Eyebrow cocked again, he cast a disapproving look at me and swept his hand around the contrived temple. "Would the gods be pleased to know they are reduced to the level of entertainment?"
"I hope so." I kept my tone light. Considering the seriousness of his expression, I didn't want to accidentally insult him. "Otherwise, they'd have to be content with staying dead, right?"
His gaze swept over me and I shivered again as if the touch had been tangible, a brush of fingertips against my cheek.
"Well, I'll leave you to your worship. I mean, your wanderings." He gave me a conspirator's wink. "Unless..."
He hesitated, with a quiet clearing of throat as he tucked his notebook and pen into an inside pocket. "You wouldn't mind a companion? Sometimes one sees things differently when seeing through another's eyes. I would appreciate a new perspective."
I mulled it over, listening to the rain spattering the windows and distant voices echoing faintly from other rooms. Although I'd looked forward to a quiet afternoon, it might be nice to spend it with someone who seemed to share my interests. He certainly was attractive, and his pleasant voice intrigued me.
I realized I'd become used to living inside a shell. This man made me want to step outside for once.
"I'd like that." I smiled at his pleased expression. "I'm Sophie, by the way." I stuck out my hand in introduction.
Instead of shaking my hand, he bent his head over it and pressed polite lips to the backs of my fingers. The quaint gesture would have seemed strange and out of place had we been elsewhere. "I am Marek. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Fingers tingling from the unexpected kiss, I fought the urge to curtsy. "Well, Marek. Lead me into the past."
His almost-smile sent a thrill down the back of my neck. "That's exactly the sort of thing I'd hoped you say. Shall we?"
He turned on his heel and swept out a hand with a slight bow, indicating the archway to another exhibit. For the first time since I'd been coming to this museum, I wondered what I'd see on the other side, and was surprised to realize I wasn't afraid to find out.




About the Author:

A speculative fiction girl through and through, Ash writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels as well as poetry and short fiction. She also writes for New Adult audiences under the name AJ Krafton. Her work has won a bunch of awards and was even nominated for a Pushcart Prize. When she's not writing, she's practicing Tai Chi, listening to loud rock and metal, or crushing on supervillains.

Most recently, she's re-released her urban fantasy trilogy THE BOOKS OF THE DEMIMONDE because she never really left the world of Sophie and her Demivamps. She's also working on the next installment of her Demon Whisperer series.

Find out more when you visit www.ashkrafton.com










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