Saturday, July 1, 2017

Dirty Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Dirty
R.L. Kenderson
Publication date: July 1st 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

He’s a player. She’s too smart to let him in her pants. Until a night of drunken sex has her kicking herself and vowing she’ll never let it happen again. Or will she?
After returning home due to her father’s illness, Elise Phillips reunites with her college friends, including Luke Long. Luke was a player back then, and Elise had always prided herself on not being another notch on his bedpost.
Luke is still gorgeous though, and he knows it. And he checks all her boxes—intelligent and sexy with muscles and a hard body.
Following a night of beer and shots, her resistance runs out, and he finally does check her box. And Elise knows that it can never happen again.
Luke had always thought of Elise as the pretty girl that was friends with his roommate’s girlfriend, but now she’s all grown up. When their night of passion rocks Luke’s world he realizes he must have her again.
The two enter a friends-with-benefits relationship with the agreement that they’re just going to have fun. The only thing is, with mutual friends involved, they have to hide their indiscretion.
But what harm can come from a dirty little secret?
Dirty is the first contemporary romance from paranormal romance author R.L. Kenderson. If you like laughing out loud, sexy book boyfriends, playful couples, and dirty, dirty sex, then you’ll love this fun contemporary romance.
Get your copy of Dirty and start falling in love today!


EXCERPT

Elise sat in her office on Monday morning, going over her schedule. As a speech therapist, she saw all different kinds of patients—from young children to adults, from those who had had traumatic brain injuries to those who had had strokes. But one of the nice things was that she saw her patients routinely. She really got to know them and could find out the best way to help because everyone was different, and what might work with one patient might not work with the next.
She was just finishing up some notes and had about fifteen minutes before her first patient arrived when her phone buzzed.
Unknown number: How was the rest of your weekend?
Elise frowned.
Elise: Who is this?
Unknown number: Sex God, giver of orgasms.
Elise rolled her eyes, laughed, and added the number to her Contacts.
Elise: Charlie Hunnam, you know who I am?
Luke: Ha-ha. You know this is Luke.
Elise: Oh, I do, huh?
Luke: Who else made you come multiple times this weekend?
She considered pretending like he wasn’t the only one she’d slept with just to tease him but went a different route instead.
Elise: Maybe I was faking it.
Luke: Bwahahahaha!
Elise frowned again.
Elise: What’s so funny about that?
Luke: Baby, there is *no way* you were faking it.
Elise: Maybe I’m that good of an actress.
Luke: Nobody’s that good. You might have pretended with other guys, but I know you didn’t with me. You can moan and throw your head back like a good actress would, but there is no faking the way your face flushed as you climaxed or the way you scrunched up your nose right before you came or how you were so wet that it coated your thighs. And there is definitely no faking the way your pussy milked my fucking cock like it was holding on for dear life. Nobody is that good.
Elise looked around her empty office, as if someone might see his text message. It was absurd because there was no one in the room, much less someone looking over her shoulder. Even though she was alone, her face flushed from his words, and she was squirming in her chair because, now, she was thoroughly aroused. At work, of all places.
Elise: I’m not sleeping with you again.
Luke: Ha-ha-ha. I don’t recall asking you.
Well, damn.
She’d just been put in her place. Just because he’d turned her on didn’t mean that he had meant to do it on purpose. And it didn’t mean he wanted to do anything about it.
Elise: You’re right. How did you get my number, btw?
Luke: I asked Sean. I told him I needed to get ahold of you because you left something behind on Friday.
He added a bikini emoji, which she took to stand for the underwear she’d lost at his house. Her face got warm again, but she ignored the missing panties situation.
If he didn’t want to sleep with her again, why had he texted her?
Elise: What did you need then?
Luke: Nothing.
Luke: I just wanted to see how you were doing after Friday night/Saturday morning?
Aw, that was kind of sweet of him.
Elise: I’m fine.
Luke: You don’t hate me?
Elise: No. I was just as much responsible as you were. I don’t blame you.
Elise: Plus, I went to church on Sunday and cleansed my soul.
Luke: Ha-ha. Good to know.
“Elise?”
She looked up to see her coworker Lora standing in her doorway. She quickly set her phone facedown on her desk. Lora wasn’t her boss—she was another speech therapist—but Elise was still new, and she didn’t want anyone to think she was slacking off when she should be working.
“Yes?”
“Your eight a.m. is here,” Lora said with a smile.
“Okay, thank you.”
Lora turned and walked away, and Elise picked up her phone. Luke had texted her while she wasn’t looking.
Luke: I’ll be sure to dirty it again.
She forgot what they’d been talking about. And, while she should be telling him she had to go, she was too curious not to ask. Thankfully, she still had seven minutes before it was actually eight o’clock.
Elise: Dirty what?
Luke: Your soul.
Luke: Oh, I have to run. Duty calls.
Wait! Elise thought.
Elise: Wait. I thought you didn’t want to sleep with me again?
Luke: When did I ever say that?
Luke: Now, I really gotta go, babe. We’ll finish this later.
Elise waited, but there were no more texts. Yes, he said he had to go, but that was before he left her with such an opened ended question. How could he leave her hanging like that?
She shouldn’t care because when she’d said she wasn’t sleeping with him again, she’d meant it. Yet she wanted him to text her again.
She sent a quick reply, threw her phone in her purse, and grabbed her first patient’s folder before heading for the waiting room. She loved her career and usually lost herself in her work.
But, today, she couldn’t help wondering if she wasn’t in just a fair bit of trouble where Luke was concerned.
—-
Luke finished up his last report before signing off the computer. It had been a long day at work. He was tired, and he couldn’t wait to go home. He knew he wasn’t original in his pain, but he hated Mondays. Sundays were worse, but thankfully, he hadn’t worked the day before.
He packed up his things and got ready to leave for the rest of the afternoon. He shut his locker door and headed for the parking lot. As he walked, he pulled out his phone.
After texting back and forth that morning with Elise, he’d been so busy that he didn’t have time to check it all day. Not even at lunch, which had consisted of standing in the break room, shoveling as much food into his mouth as he could in less than ten minutes.
He was beat and hungry, but as soon as he pulled out his phone and saw what Elise had texted him after he had to go this morning, it made him smile.
Elise: Just like a man to start something and not finish it.
He hadn’t meant to start anything this a.m. when he sent her the first message. In fact, he hadn’t even meant to flirt. It’d just happened. When he was young, his mother repeatedly told him that he was a natural-born flirt, and he often thought she was onto something there. Besides, flirting was just flirting. It didn’t mean anything was going to go beyond that.
Luke: Ouch. My poor manly pride is ruined.
He didn’t think she’d reply right away, but she must be near her phone because, a minute later, his phone beeped.
Elise: “Ladies, if a man says he will fix it, he will. There’s no need to remind him every six months about it.”
If the meme fits…
He threw his head back and laughed.
Luke: Now, I’m offended for the whole male population.
Elise: Hey, there are a ton of those out there, so it must be true.
Luke got in his SUV but had to reply before he drove off.
Luke: You might think we’re lazy, but we’re actually smart. It’s called strategy, baby. If we pretend not to be able to do something, we know you women will get frustrated and do it for us.
Elise: I knew it! My college boyfriend was the worst when it came to doing the laundry. He even shrank my favorite sweater. I finally told him to stop and let me do it. I always suspected it was a ploy.
Luke remembered the guy Elise had dated in college. What a tool.
Luke: What a dick.
Elise: What can you do? Men suck.
Luke: We don’t suck; we lick. You’re the one who sucks.
As far as replies went, he knew it was pretty cheesy and immature, but he couldn’t resist. He’d been thinking about how Elise had sucked all weekend, and he couldn’t get it off his mind.
Elise: Real smooth, Lucas.
Luke: Had to be done.
Luke: Off work now. Have to drive home. Talk later?
Luke sat and stared at his phone, actually worried she’d say no.
Elise: Sure. Later.
Luke threw his phone on the passenger seat and shifted into drive, all the while grinning from ear to ear. He couldn’t wait to see what she would have to say next.


Author Bio:
R.L. Kenderson is two best friends writing under one name. Renae has always loved reading and in third grade wrote her first poem where she learned she might have a knack for this writing thing. Lara remembers sneaking her grandmother’s Harlequin novels when she was probably too young to be reading them, and since then she knew she wanted to write her own.
When they met in college, they bonded over their love of reading and the TV show Charmed. What really spiced up their friendship was when Lara introduced Renae to romance novels. When they discovered their first vampire romance, they knew there would always be a special place in their hearts for paranormal romance. After being unable to find certain storylines and characteristics they wanted to read about in the hundreds of books they consumed, they decided to write their own.
They both live in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area where they’re a sonographer/stay-at-home mom/wife and pharmacist/mother by day and a sexy author by night. You can find them at http://www.rlkenderson.com, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, and Goodreads. Or you can email them at rlkenderson@rlkenderson.com. They always love hearing from their readers.

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Friday, June 30, 2017

A Warlock's Secrets Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!



A Warlock’s Secrets     
Demon’s Witch Series
Book Two
Tena Stetler

Genre: Paranormal Romance              

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Date of Publication: 6-14-17

ISBN: 978-1-5092-1446-4  
ISBN: 978-1-5092-1447-1

Number of pages:  332
Word Count: 83,485

Cover Artist: Kristian Norris

Tagline: In his darkest hours she is dragged into his magical world. If they survive, is she strong enough to heal his heart and tame the warlock?

Book Description:

Years ago a sacred ceremony at the Dragon’s Moon Coven, turned deadly. Son of the high priestess, Tristian Shandie’s life changed forever. With a price on his head and revenge in his heart, he has no choice but to follow in his father’s footsteps to a profession shrouded in secrets. Now his skills as an enforcer for the Demon Overlord are second to none. But dangerous secrets he harbors are a liability he can no longer afford.

A chance meeting with a woman he finds irresistible flips Tristian’s world upside down. Hannah is a cyber security specialist with secrets of her own. Bad boys never appealed to her until Tristian, who changes everything. In his darkest hours she is dragged into his magical world. If they survive, is she strong enough to heal his heart and tame the warlock? Or will their secrets destroy them?


Amazon      Kobo      BN       iTunes

Excerpt

Panic set in, her brain wouldn't engage and her mouth took off on its own. "I..I didn't mean to wwake you.  Only wanted to apologize for whatever I said the other night that pissed you off," she stammered." God -- Can I embarrass myself anymore? Her cheeks felt like they were on fire as she whirled away from him in an attempt to compose herself.  When she turned around, he’d leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his sculptured chest, but his smoldering gaze over her body should have incinerated the clothes she was wearing.
Resting her hand on her hip she tilted her chin up, her gaze met his. "Like what you see?" Oh my god, where did that come from?  Her hand flew to her mouth again. "Anyway, I'm sorry." She turned and sprinted down the steps.  By the time she reached her car, he was leaning nonchalantly against her driver’s side door. "How did you do that?"
"Practice." He blinked at her. "Why don't you come in and have a cup of coffee, obviously you are having caffeine withdrawals. I warmed up a couple of cinnamon rolls and apple fritters.  Would you like one?"   Not waiting for an answer, he sauntered up the steps.
Her knees when weak, she licked her lips.
 "Coming?"
"No…. I have to go,” she stammered. “I was on my way home after a run.  But thanks for the invitation."
"Suit yourself.”  He strolled through the doorway and paused turned back to peer at her. "Sure?"
Her stomach growled loudly. Traitorous organ.  "Maybe just a bite and a big cup of coffee." She plodded up the stairs and followed him into the kitchen filled with the aroma of warm cinnamon and apples

About the Author:

Tena Stetler is a paranormal romance and cozy mystery author with an over-active imagination.  She wrote her first vampire romance as a tween, to the chagrin of her mother and the delight of her friends. With the Rocky Mountains outside her window, Tena sits at her computer surrounded by a wide array of paranormal creatures telling her their tales. Colorado is her home; shared with her husband of many moons, a brilliant Chow Chow, a spoiled parrot and a forty-year-old box turtle.  Any evening, you can find her curled up in front of a crackling fire with a good book, a mug of hot chocolate and a big bowl of popcorn. Her books tell tales of magical kick-ass women and mystical alpha males that dare to love them.






Twitter Page: www.twitter.com/TenaStetler  







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Grind Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Grind
Sybil Bartel
(Thrust, #3)
Publication date: June 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Dane
I’m silent. I’m trained. I’m lethal.
My hand skimming down your thigh, my gaze a weapon—I know more ways to kill you than please you.
But you’re not paying for my aim. You’re paying for my control. Bringing you a breath away from ecstasy, watching you beg as I hold back your release, I’ll show you exactly what you’ve been missing. Your hunger is my currency and five thousand is my price. I only have one rule—no repeats, because I’m not for keeps. I’m for sale.
One slow grind and I’ll give you exactly what you paid for.
EXCERPT:
“I don’t have any money to pay you.” He knew I didn’t, but I wasn’t saying it just to remind him.
“I don’t want you to pay me.” He held his hand out. “Come on.”
My heart raced and the whisper of his scent through the rainwater drenching his body filled my head. I ached to touch him. “Where?”
“To bed.”
“I can’t… with you.” I had reasons, but I was rapidly forgetting them.
His hand never wavered. “I need sleep. You need sleep. I’ll rest better if I know where you are. Come.”
Knowing I shouldn’t, knowing I was crossing an invisible line I would never return from, I gave him my hand.
He didn’t hesitate. He pulled me to my feet and took a step.
I panicked. “Wait.” Oh God, don’t say it, don’t say it. “I can’t do this. This will mean something to me that it doesn’t to you.”
Cool gray-brown eyes stared down at me without mercy. “Do not speak for me.”
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
I gave him the truth because it was all I had left. “You’re taking what I don’t have to give.”
His shoulders dropped, his frame leaned toward me, and he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “Trust me.” Rain dripped from his cheek and landed on my arm. “This is what I ask of you, only this. Nothing else.”
If you could fall in love in a single moment with a perfect stranger, I fell in love. “You will break me, Dane Marek,” I whispered.
“You are already broken, Irina Tsarko.”


Author Bio:
Sybil Bartel grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling. She loves the New Adult genre, but any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes her swoon.
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?
Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.
She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.
To find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website, like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.

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Thursday, June 29, 2017

Breaking Roman Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Breaking Roman
Alexis James
(The Moran Family #3)
Publication date: June 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

They call me Romeo.
I love romancing women, and I’m good at it.
Too bad it is all a ruse.
Roman, the youngest of the three Moran brothers, is the only one who has ever believed in true love. Too bad his one special person barely acknowledges his existence.
Sabrina Morris spends her days running the HR Department of The Moran Group, and her nights corralling her teenage daughter. She doesn’t have time for love. She’s heard the stories, but Roman is not at all what she expects him to be. His gentle nature catches her completely off-guard. She doesn’t expect to be attracted to him, and she certainly doesn’t expect him to be equally drawn to her. But can she see past his Romeo façade and allow the warm, loving man into her life?
PROLOGUE:
They call me Romeo. It’s not my given name, but that hardly matters.
I earned the moniker when I was a young little shit, maybe twelve. My friends and I were at the beach, like we were most every day during the summer, taking full advantage of the fact that we live near the water in Miami. We were cussing, simply because we thought it sounded cool (it didn’t), strutting around with fake bravado trying to impress all the girls we’ve known since kindergarten. My friend Raul dared me to talk to Missy Evers, the new girl who recently moved here from Idaho. An hour after that first chat with cutie-pie Missy, who by the way still rocks a bikini like nobody’s business, she was holding my hand. Two hours later my tongue was working hard to get into her mouth and I got my first feel of a female breast, even if it belonged to a relatively flat-chested twelve-year-old girl. That little make-out session happened strategically within eyesight of my group of boisterous friends, because at that age only two things matter: getting some action and making sure your friends know about it. And that’s all it took for the nickname to stick. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, it’s something I despise.
I was a halfway decent guy even back then, so most of my time with Missy was G-rated. When she finally took off with her giggling friends in tow, she was starry eyed, hanging on my every word. My dumb buddies, who knew nothing about who or what the Shakespearian Romeo was really like, pranced around like a bunch of idiots, harping, “Romeo got him some!” Groping a girl with a bunch of onlookers was considered “getting some.” How messed-up is it that?
In all the years that I’ve carried the stupid nickname around, I’ve served it well. Even my sweet mama calls me that, though in her eyes I’ll always be her baby boy. Honestly, I’m a hopeless romantic. I believe in love and all the great things that come with it. I believe in monogamous relationships, unlike my older brothers, who up until a few years ago made bed-hopping an Olympic event. That’s not to say I don’t do my own share of bed-hopping, but mine is more about the … research, part of my daily quest to find my ideal mate. I date frequently, constantly searching for the one woman who stands above all others. The one woman who I have an immediate connection with and see myself standing next to when we’re old and gray. When I date we have some laughs together; I charm and wine and dine. We flop around on the mattress a few times and by week two I’m usually bringing the lucky lady home for Sunday dinner with my entire family.
No one has ever lasted past Sunday dinner.
It’s not that my family isn’t welcoming, because they are. But Mama figured out years ago that in my hunt for Mrs. Right, first I’d have to spend my time with all the Miss Wrongs out there. She’s gracious and kind to whichever woman I bring home, giving me a knowing look at the end of the meal that silently says, “Oh hell no.” Well … without the swearing, but you get what I’m saying. My devout Catholic mother would never, ever swear.
In the past few years I’ve brought upwards of twenty different women home to meet my family. Some don’t last through the entire meal. Some make the grave mistake of seeing dollar signs. While my family’s empire is considerable, I down play it as much as possible. I do well, I make good money, have a cool car and a decent place to live. But I’m not the millionaire my oldest brother Cruz is or the numbers guy that my other brother Marco is. I’m the black sheep brother, different in every way from the other two arrogant dicks I happen to be related to. I enjoy getting my hands dirty, wearing ratty jeans, and romancing women. Cruz and Marco are both suit-wearing hotshots who ooze over-confidence and up until Cruz got hitched to Mia and Marco shackled himself to Amita, they were both serious players. Well, to be fair to my oldest brother, I’m only assuming he was a player before meeting Mia. It’s not like he ever shared any tawdry bedroom happenings with me. That’s cool and all and to each his own, but it’s not my style. I see no point bullshitting my way between a woman’s legs, especially when I can say a few nice things and treat them decently and still get the same result.
I suppose I’ve earned the damned nickname, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean I like it. I have a hard enough time keeping up with my two older brothers without that damn label being tossed around. Maybe I’m being over-sensitive; my actions don’t exactly discourage the name. I just don’t think anyone takes me seriously anymore and who knows, maybe I’ve done that to myself. Maybe I really am Romeo.
What my brothers don’t know is that this Romeo found his Juliet years ago, more than three to be exact. He met her simply by chance, one of those meant-to-be moments that has sadly turned out to be anything but. His Juliet is blind to his advances, businesslike and driven in everything she does. His Juliet is beautiful, ethereal, and totally and completely untouchable. So he continues to wine and dine, romance and sweet talk, all as a ruse to hide what’s really in his heart. It’s nothing more than a lame attempt to somehow figure out what makes Juliet tick and in doing so keeping all the unwanted family questions at bay.
Whether or not I am a true Romeo remains to be seen. What I do know is that I’ll be whomever I have to be to get to know the illusive Juliet.


Author Bio:
Alexis James lives on the beautiful Central California coast. When she’s not spending time with her hubby of almost 30 years or her amazing kids, you can find her tapping away on the computer. She loves reading, spending time with family, reading, camping, reading….and writing too! She enjoys a good date night, an inexpensive glass of wine, and any story that can make her smile and/or cry.
Alexis’s first novel, “Losing Faith”, was released in September 2014. Her second novel, “Loving Emma”, is a standalone, though it does feature some characters from “Losing Faith”.
She invites you to visit her author pages on Facebook and Goodreads, and her website: alexisjamesauthor.com. You can also follow her on Twitter (@alexisjames27) or you can email her at: alexisjamesauthor@gmail.com.

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Reach for You Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Reach for You
Pat Esden
(The Dark Heart #3)
Published by: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Publication date: June 27th 2017
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Her passion is her greatest weakness.
His legacy is his prison.
To reunite, both must fight the demons within.
A world of deception and danger separates Annie Fremont from her mother—and from Chase, the enigmatic groundskeeper with whom Annie’s fallen in love. But she vows to find her way back to them, before Chase succumbs to the madness that threatens his freedom. The only person who can help is the magical seductress, Lotli, a beautiful, manipulative woman . . . a woman who has disappeared.
Annie must stay strong, even as the future she imagined is slipping away. With the help of family and friends, she discovers that Lotli is being held against her will, by those who want to exploit her powers. But though weakened, Lotli remains a powerful ally and adversary. A bargain is struck. And now Annie’s only chance to rescue Chase could also tear them apart . . .
Loyalties will be tested, walls will be breached, and enemies will be fought, yet Annie’s greatest battle lies within her own heart—to trust her love for Chase to overcome its greatest enemy, and to save those she holds most dear from the terrifying realm of the djinn. For all of their lives depend on it.

Previous books in the series:
25810168 28109696
CHAPTER ONE:
We journey. Ceaseless and hungry.
Carved into stone tablet. Tenerife, Spain
The campsite was ominously silent. Then a breeze lifted and my ear caught the faint clank and rattle of the bones and knives hanging in the pine trees behind us.
“You don’t think they’re both dead, do you?” Selena whispered.
I scanned the dilapidated camper ahead of us, a do-it-yourself RV created out of an old bread truck. Despite the midafternoon warmth, the doors were shut tight. The tent behind it, barely visible from our angle, bowed under the weight of rain that had pooled in its canopy. There was no campfire smoke. No trampled grass. In comparison to when we’d come here last week, the place looked deserted.
Goose bumps pebbled my skin. I gave the camper another once-over. “Zea was really old and sickly. He could have died—or if the kidnappers came here first looking for Lotli, they could have found him. They might have—”
Selena cut me off with a glower. “You mean, supposed kidnappers.”
My jaw clenched. Yeah, that was exactly what I meant. I understood why my cousin didn’t like that everything we’d discovered pointed to her boyfriend, Newt, being involved in Lotli’s disappearance, and perhaps Zea’s as well. But I thought we’d gotten past that, like a bunch of times already.
I swiveled toward where we’d parked our Land Rover. The Professor stood rooted next to it, a mixture of disgust and apprehension crinkling his face. From his scholarly glasses and sandy brown hair all the way down to his polished loafers, he looked anything but ready for our reconnaissance trip out here on the back roads of Down East Maine. An afternoon of research at Oxford University would have been more appropriate. “You want to check inside the tent while we look in the camper?”
His gaze flicked to the soggy tarps. He cleared his throat, then—as posh as ever—said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally against the idea. But the thought of discovering a rotting corpse is a teensy bit abhorrent.”
“Would you rather discover one in a closed-up camper?” I snapped. It was lucky we’d driven into the campsite from the main road instead of walking like we’d done the last time. I’d assumed the Professor had an adventuresome spirit to go with his young Indiana Jones good looks. Especially since he was an archaeologist, though this summer he was tutoring Selena’s eleven-year-old brother as a favor. Still, and despite how eager he’d seemed to come with us, the Professor had freaked the second we started past the creepy stuff Zea and Lotli hung in the trees to scare people off: the knives and bones, pieces of copper pipe, broken mirrors, and doll parts. Frankly, I was surprised he’d even gotten out of the Land Rover at all.
I pasted on a smile. “Sorry. I don’t much care for the idea myself. Let’s just hope he’s napping or something.”
The Professor wiped his hands down the sides of his chinos. “I truly hope you’re right.”
As he headed for the tent, I tramped toward the camper with Selena close behind. If only Chase were here now. The creepy stuff hadn’t bothered him at all, and the fear of Zea being dead would have only driven him forward faster.
My chest tightened, my longing for Chase aching inside me, raw and unrelenting. If it weren’t for me, he would be here now. Instead, both he and my mother were trapped in the djinn realm, prisoners of his father, Malphic. If it weren’t for me, Lotli wouldn’t be missing either.
“Well?” Selena jerked her head at the camper door. “Are you going to just stand there?”
I raised my hand and knocked. One second passed. Two seconds. I rapped harder. Nothing. I tried the doorknob. It turned beneath my grip. I opened the door a crack, hesitated, and took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.
A wave of hot, musty air rushed past me as if the camper had been closed up for days.
“Hello?” I said, sticking my head inside. I gave the air a cautious sniff. No dangerous odors, like a leaky gas stove, permeated the air. No rotting-trash smell—or decomp.
Selena nudged my shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
I swallowed hard and stepped forward.
The place was cramped, a gypsy wagon on steroids. Tassels and prisms curtained the windows, letting only faint streaks of light inside. Miles of fuchsia and turquoise fabric draped the ceiling and walls. Animal skulls, feathers, and nubby candles clustered inside miniature altars. The fridge, table, and chairs, every surface that wasn’t fabric covered, was painted purple or black. Stars decorated the ceiling. An antique bed piled with crimson quilts and an avalanche of pillows took up the camper’s entire backend. It was cozy enough, I supposed. But I couldn’t begin to imagine what life had been like for Lotli, apprenticed to Zea as a child because of her magic abilities, essentially indentured. Not that I thought a devout shaman like Zea would have been cruel to her. It was just so different from anything I’d experienced.
“Zea, are you here?” I called out. “We need to talk to you about Lotli.”
I minced my way deeper into the cramped space, working my way toward the back of the camper. Cold sweat carved a trail down my spine. I crept past a tiny kitchen and dining nook, then the bathroom—one toothbrush in the holder, a washcloth draped over the edge of a yellowed sink.
I returned to the front of the camper and pulled aside the curtain that divided the living area from the bread truck’s cab. Seats for the driver and a passenger, seashells glued to the dash, insulated coffee cups in the holders—
Something brushed the back of my neck.
I yelped and jumped sideways, whipping around to see what it was and smacking my elbow against the wall. Pain zinged up my arm. I glared at Selena, standing barely an inch behind me.
“Shit,” I said, rubbing the sting from my arm. “You scared the hell out of me.”
She gave me a sheepish pout. “Sorry. I thought you knew I was there.”
“I didn’t think you were that close.” It wouldn’t have hurt half as bad, except I was already sore and bruised from being thrown out of the djinn realm earlier in the day.
Her pout transformed into a smug smile and she flipped her blond hair over one shoulder. “Looks to me like Zea and Lotli might have pulled a vanishing act after all. Huh?”
I stopped rubbing. “Or the Professor’s about to find something disgusting in the tent.”
“Want to bet?”
I closed my eyes, struggling to regain my composure. We couldn’t afford to waste time discussing the same thing over and over again, any more than I could have afforded the luxury of staying home to nurse my aches and pains. Chase and Mother were in danger. And I couldn’t go back to the realm and rescue them until we found Lotli. Without her and her flute-magic, it would be too risky, perhaps even impossible to enter or escape from the realm.
I shoved past Selena and strode to the tiny bathroom. “While we’re here, we should find something personal of Lotli’s that you can use to scry and see where they’re holding her.”
Glancing around, I spotted a scruffy hairbrush. You couldn’t get much more personal than that. I grabbed it and brandished it toward Selena.
She stood just inside the bathroom doorway, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “Cut it out, Annie, I’ve had enough of you talking like Newt kidnapped Lotli, the innuendos and little jabs. Maybe his family’s hiding something, but Newt doesn’t have anything to do with it. So quit acting like he’s evil, okay?”
I mirrored her stance. “He told you his dad was a stockbroker, that they owned their summer home. Those were lies. His brother is a registered creep. No matter what you want to think: Newt’s not innocent.”
She turned her back on me, her voice bordering on hysteria. “I don’t know why I bothered coming. You’re so, so . . . You always have to be right—” Her voice died and she slowly faced me. Angry red blotches mottled her face. But tears rimmed her eyes.
My anger drained. She didn’t look pissed. She was trembling like she was about to fall apart. Earlier today, when we’d first heard about the lies Newt and his family had been telling, I’d seen something in Selena’s eyes, something beneath her disbelief.
“What is it? Tell me,” I asked gently.
She raked her hands over her face. “Nothing. You just need to trust me. I know Newt couldn’t be involved. And he wouldn’t have let his brother do it either.”
I leveled my gaze with hers and toughened my voice. “What makes you so certain? Tell me the truth, Selena.”
Her chin quivered. “I just know.”
Tucking the hairbrush handle first into my hip pocket, I stepped closer. I pushed her hair back from her face. “You’re my cousin. Please. Tell me.”
“Nothing. He just wouldn’t do it. He loves me.”
“I get that. But—”
She shoved my hand away. “No, you don’t get it. I know he loves me. Like forever.” Her eyes pleaded for me to understand what she couldn’t bring herself to say.
A possibility seeped into my head. My hands went to my mouth, covering a horrified gasp. She couldn’t mean. She couldn’t have. “What did you do?”
“I kind of—I put a . . .” Her voice faded and she looked down at the floor.
“A spell?” A month ago, the idea of witchcraft being involved would never have occurred to me. Now it seemed more than likely.
“You can’t tell anyone. Mom, Dad, Grandfather—they’d kill me.” She curled her arms over her head, her shoulders shaking as she crumpled down against the wall.
I crouched and put my arms around her. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. It can’t be that bad.”
“It is,” she sobbed.

Author Bio:
PAT ESDEN would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts. An antique-dealing florist by trade, she’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scither’s anthology Cat Tales.

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Wednesday, June 28, 2017

The Thirteenth Gate Tour & Excerpt!


The Thirteenth Gate
Dominion Mysteries
Book Two
Kat Ross

Genre: Fantasy/mystery

Publisher: Acorn

Date of Publication: June 26, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-9972362-8-6
ASIN: B071RQ142S

Number of pages: 380
Word Count: 88k

Cover Artist: Damonza

Book Description:

Winter 1888. At an asylum in the English countryside, a man suspected of being Jack the Ripper kills an orderly and flees into the rain-soaked night. His distraught keepers summon the Lady Vivienne Cumberland—who's interviewed their patient and isn't sure he's a man at all. An enigmatic woman who guards her own secrets closely, Lady Vivienne knows a creature from the underworld when she sees one. And he’s the most dangerous she's ever encountered.

As Jack rampages through London, Lady Vivienne begins to suspect what he's searching for. And if he finds it, the doors to purgatory will be thrown wide open…

Across the Atlantic, an archaeologist is brutally murdered after a Christmas Eve gala at the American Museum of Natural History. Certain peculiar aspects of the crime attract the interest of the Society for Psychical Research and its newest investigator, Harrison Fearing Pell. Is Dr. Sabelline's death related to his recent dig in Alexandria? Or is the motive something darker?

As Harry uncovers troubling connections to a serial murder case she’d believed was definitively solved, two mysteries converge amid the grit and glamor of Gilded Age New York. Harry and Lady Vivienne must join forces to stop an ancient evil. The key is something called the Thirteenth Gate. But where is it? And more importantly, who will find it first?

Excerpt:

The Greymoor Lunatic Asylum made a grim impression even in daylight. It crouched at the end of a long, treeless drive, barred windows gleaming beneath a peaked slate roof. After her first interview with Dr. William Clarence, Lady Vivienne Cumberland had taken a hard look at those bars. She’d strongly suggested to the asylum superintendent that he move Dr. Clarence to a room with no window at all.
That had been just over a month ago. Now, in the darkest hour of the night, with rain coursing down the brick façade and thunder rattling the turrets, Greymoor looked like something torn from the pages of a penny dreadful, hulking and shadowed despite the lamps burning in every window. At the wrought-iron front gate, a black brougham drew to a halt. Following a brief exchange with the occupants, two officers from the Essex constabulary waved it through, immediately ducking back into the shelter of a police wagon.
“I told them to watch him,” Lady Cumberland muttered, yanking her gloves on. “To keep him isolated from the staff and other patients. Clearly, they didn’t listen. The fools.”
Alec Lawrence gripped the cane resting across his knees. He had been present at the interview, had looked into Dr. Clarence’s eyes, a blue so pale they reminded him of a Siberian dog. The memory unsettled him still, and he wasn’t a man who was easily shaken.
“We don’t know what happened yet,” he pointed out. “Superintendent Barrett can hardly be faulted considering we withheld certain information. I rather doubt he would have believed us anyway.”
Vivienne scowled. “You may be right, but it was only a matter of time. I’ve known that since the day Clarence was brought here. The S.P.R. made a very bad mistake entrusting him to Greymoor.”
“We still don’t know for sure—”
“Yes, we do. The killings stopped, didn’t they?”
“That could be for any number of reasons,” he said stubbornly.
“Including that the creature who committed them is behind bars. Or was, at least.”
Alec Lawrence buttoned his woolen greatcoat. This was not a new debate. “Perhaps. But there’s not a scrap of hard evidence against him. Nothing but a single reference in a report by some American girl and Clarence’s own odd demeanor. Had there been more, he would have been locked up tight in Newgate Prison.”
Vivienne turned her obsidian gaze on him. With her high cheekbones and full lips, she might have been thirty, or a decade in either direction. Only Alec and a handful of others knew better.
“That American girl is Arthur Conan Doyle’s goddaughter and she seemed quite clever to me. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” she added quietly. “Walls don’t hold Dr. Clarence’s sort for long.”
“Look,” he said, softening. “For what it’s worth, I think we did the right thing taking him off the streets. I just....” He trailed off, unsure how he meant to finish the thought.
“You don’t trust my judgment anymore. Since Harper Dods.”
“That’s not even remotely true. I simply think we need to keep open minds on the matter. The signs aren’t there, Vivienne. I’m the first to admit Dr. Clarence is an odd duck, perhaps worse. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t human.”
Vivienne arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “And yet here we are, summoned by Sidgwick in the middle of the night. I wonder if he’s regretting his decision?”
The note from Henry Sidgwick, president of the Society for Psychical Research, had arrived in the form of a small, bedraggled messenger boy pounding on Lady Vivienne’s front door in St. James an hour before. It was both vague and ominous, citing an “unfortunate incident” involving Dr. Clarence and urging all due haste to the asylum.
“I suppose we’ll find out in a minute,” Alec said, turning his collar up. He swiped a hand through chestnut hair and jammed a top hat on his head. “Off to the races.”
A gust of rain shook the carriage as it slowed at the front entrance. A six-story tower capped by a Roman clock and white spire anchored two wings extending on either side. Unlike most asylums, which had separate annexes for men and women, Greymoor’s residents were all male. The north wing housed those poor souls suffering from garden-variety disorders like dementia and melancholia. The other was reserved for the so-called “incurables,” a euphemism for the criminally insane. Violent, unpredictable men deemed unfit for prison.

Despite his doubts, Alec Lawrence would have happily had the lot of them over for tea rather than spend five minutes in the company of Dr. William Clarence. In his heart, he wondered if Vivienne’s instincts were correct. But he wanted her to be wrong because the alternative was far worse.

 About the Author:

Kat Ross worked as a journalist at the United Nations for ten years before happily falling back into what she likes best: making stuff up. She's the author of the dystopian thriller Some Fine Day, the Fourth Element fantasy series (The Midnight Sea, Blood of the Prophet, Queen of Chaos), and the new Dominion Mysteries. She loves myths, monsters and doomsday scenarios.





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Amnesia Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Amnesia
Kylie Hillman
(Centrifuge Duet #1)
Publication date: February 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

First, he steals her mind.
Then, he owns her body.
Dr. Jaxon Ray has bided his time. He’s watched Amber St. George from afar, plotting and calculating the best way to get her back, until he realised that the answer was simple…
Steal her mind so he can own her body. Program her to forget then reprogram her as his perfect partner. The plan is foolproof, promising everything he’s ever wanted once it’s executed. Money. Prestige. Her.
Why? Because when you don’t know that you’re missing, it’s not possible for you to be found. Especially when the only person you think you can trust, is the one who’s left you with medically-induced amnesia.



EXCERPT

“Welcome home.” My mother greets us in a singsong voice. “I trust you’re both feeling relaxed and recharged from your little break?”
Both sets of parents are waiting in the foyer of our house, apparently ready to celebrate our return from our honeymoon. I lean into Jax, close enough so that only he can hear my comment.
“Somebody’s had her Stepford pills today.”
I can feel his low laugh where it rumbles in his chest below my palm. It calms my fears about returning home. During our flight, I was worried that the connection between me and Jax would be lost. He seemed to grow more aloof the closer we got to home. Tension that hadn’t been in his hard frame during our three-week honeymoon became more noticeable by the minute. It diluted the tenderness I felt for him after such an amazing honeymoon, which made me feel guilty, so I’d spent the remainder of the flight trying to find ways to recapture it with small talk and inane observations.
“Seems someone’s missed hers,” Jax replies loud enough for our parents to hear. He takes a step to the side, putting distance between us and causing me to stumble from the unexpected loss of his body. I right myself, bright spots of embarrassment making my face burn. “I have work to do. Amber, you should rest. We have a battery of tests organised for you first thing tomorrow. It’s time to see if you’re able to live up to your end of the bargain.”
Jax strides out of the foyer in the direction of his office, my father and his falling into step with him. Left alone with our mothers, I look between them to see if they’re going to comment on how my husband just acted. They meet my perusal with deliberate blankness, although my mother does seem to be more nervous than usual.
“Is anyone going to tell me what tests he’s talking about?” Their mouths fall open at my belligerent tone. Internally, I shrug it off. They’re lucky I didn’t stomp my damn foot. I certainly want to. “No? No one?”
I give them my back, extending the handle of my biggest suitcase and tilting it so it will roll behind me. I signal the maid to bring the rest of my bags with her. Jax’s luggage can sit in the middle of the entry until the end of time, for all I can. When I reach the curved staircase, I immediately regret my show of defiance. There’s no way I’m going to be able to pull my bag up there.
“Maria.” My mother snaps her fingers at the maid. “Bring some refreshments to the lounge, then have their luggage taken to their room.”
She sniffs when Maria takes too long to move. “Come now, Amber. Tell us about your trip.”
I follow, with reluctance in each step, sitting on the loveseat closest to the window. It’s a beautiful day outside. Bright sunlight and barely a breath of wind. It’s a day that I could spend with my husband, if he wasn’t a workaholic who barely drew a breath before he dived straight back into his job.
“I think you’re mistaken as to how things will run from now on.” Jax’s mother, Elizabeth, speaks first. I run my gaze over her, taking in the perfectly coiffed hair and her straight unnaturally posture with her hands tucked between her knees. Looks like she had her Stepford pills today, as well. “My son is a very busy man. It’s your job to make his life run as effortlessly as possible. There will be no further allowances made for your delicate state.”
She stands, pacing in front of me. I assume that her “delicate state” jibe is a reference to my ongoing amnesia.
“You’ll take over the running of this house. It is not my place to do so now that he’s married. However, I am happy to provide some tips so that the transition is smooth. The same goes for Jax’s social calendar. That will require close attention so that your influence as the only St. George heir benefits my son from the outset. Once you are with child, Cynthia and I,” Elizabeth indicates my mother with her jutting chin. “will assist you so that you are able to concentrate on your most important duty—providing as many heirs as possible.”
“So, that’s what the tests are for tomorrow?” I slouch in my chair when they both incline their heads in agreement. “Well, I guess I’d better rest then. Wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of my ability to breed.”
“I feel that you would benefit from a lie down.” My sarcasm goes straight over my mother’s head. “It will improve your disposition.”
My feet are in action, removing me from this conversation before I say something I regret. I can’t take this farce, anymore. We’ve been home for less than an hour and my life is already being dictated by the expectations of “society”.
Isn’t that one of the reasons you ran away in the first place?
My stupid heel catches in the corner of the rug when that random though pops into my head. I stumble, steadying myself with a hand on the back of the settee. Balance regained, my shoulder clashes with the person currently entering the room as I restart my hasty exit.
“My apologies.” I give Seb a ghost-like smile as I pass.
He takes hold of the top of my arm to slow me, a shopping bag dangling from that same hand.
“It’s time. Be ready.”


Author Bio:
Kylie Hillman is the Australian author of the Internationally Bestselling Black Shamrocks MC series, Amazon #1 Bestselling NA/Sports novel, Brawl (Black Hearts MMA #1), and the recently completed Centrifuge Duet. She's currently working on the highly anticipated spin-offs to the Black Shamrocks MC series, writing the rest of the Black Hearts MMA series, and plotting her upcoming psychological thriller, Blood Oath.
She's also wife to a Harley-riding, boating and fishing, four-wheel driving, quintessential Aussie bloke and mum to two crazy, adorable, and eccentric kids. A Crohn's Disease sufferer and awareness campaigner, as well as an avid tea drinker, metal head, and math nerd, Kylie is known for lacing everything she says with sarcasm and inappropriate innuendo.

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Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Mouth Watering Tour & Excerpt!



Mouth Watering
St Leasing
Book One
LP Maxa

Genre: Romance

Book Description:

Corey Cooper, the new guidance counselor at all boys prep school, St. Leasing, discovers nothing is what it seems, especially the mouthwatering coach, Dominic Hardy.

EVERYTHING SHE NEEDED...

Looking to change her life, Corey Cooper moves across the country to a remote town in Colorado to become the new guidance counselor at St. Leasing, a prestigious all boys prep school. But soon she learns her attraction to the gorgeous head coach, Dominic Hardy, is more than the usual chemistry, and that her students are more than the typical randy teenage boys.

WAS WRITTEN IN HIS SOUL

Dominic Hardy loves his life at St. Leasing. As head coach, he's fulfilled by his career, and in the small Colorado town outside the school's gates he has all the entertainment a man could desire. No complications, no attachments, life was good. Then Corey Cooper comes to St. Leasing and Dominic's instincts kick in - she is his, and that's for life. Throw in a troubled teen, a tyrannical parent, and a mysterious disappearance, and all of a sudden everything at St. Leasing has become a matter of life or death for his kind.

EXCERPT:

His truck pulled in behind her SUV in the driveway and he was out of his vehicle opening her car door before she’d even turned off her engine. Eager, wasn’t he? He held his arm out, and she smiled as she hooked her hand around his large bicep. “How chivalrous Coach Hardy.”

“I try.”

When they reached the front porch she turned toward him with what she hoped was her sultriest grin, kind of innocent with a hint of fire. “Thanks for everything today, Dominic. The directions. The drinks. The companionship. I’m so glad that you were the first person I met here.” He hadn’t seemed to like the word friend when she’d used it back at the bar, and she’d bet the word companionship was setting his teeth on edge right about now.

“Seems like I was at the right place at the right time. It was a pleasure meeting you Corey Cooper.” He leaned in with his whole body, but went for her cheek instead of her lips.

“Mmmm, you smell amazing.” She all but purred. She was playing the game, but in truth he really did smell fantastic. “What kind of cologne are you wearing?”

He moved away a fraction of an inch and kissed her other cheek softly. “I’m not wearing any cologne. But I’m glad you think I smell good considering I didn’t have time to shower after practice.”

She laughed, “Really? You smell mouthwatering, like all my favorite scents rolled into one. I noticed it earlier today. I smelled you before you even said a word to me.” And she had, it was like he had filled the air before she’d known he was behind her.

His body was close to hers, but still not touching. Corey knew what his game was, leaving it up to her, letting her make the first move. Did he think he was clever? A visionary? And hardly the first guy to use that tactic. But okay Dominic Hardy, you win this one. When he went to pull away again, she grabbed his shirt in her hands and fused their mouths together. She felt herself immediately melt into him. The kiss was the most perfect first kiss she’d ever had.


His lips were soft but demanding and when he fisted his hands in her hair, tugging lightly, she gave in. She opened for him and let his tongue invade her mouth. God this was amazing. A perfect kiss mixed with his yummy scent, she could hardly stand it. Yeah, life at St. Leasing was well on its way to wonderful.

About the Author:

L.P. Maxa lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, daughter, 3 rescue dogs, 1 cat - the fish died - and one bunny who doesn't seem to like them. She loves reading romance novels as much as she love writing them. She says, inspiration can come from anywhere: a song lyric, a quote, a weekend with friends. The tiniest things can spark amazing stories. She loves to hear from readers.