Saturday, March 5, 2016

Dark & Twisted Games Cover Reveal


Dark and Twisted Games
Heidi Acosta
(Hearts of Faeylon #1)
Published by: CHBB
Publication date: April 1st 2016
Genres: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult


Nothing ever happens in the small town of Copake Falls, and no one knows that better than sixteen-year-old Eden Day. Her life is a mundane carousal, rotating between caring for her alien obsessed aunt and dealing with her freak status at school. Until two brothers move into town and turn her life completely upside down.

Golden boy, Cardelian Foster is the talk of the town, and it seems his sights set on Eden. However, she finds herself drawn to the dark and elusive Jaxson instead. Caught between her fear of what he might be and her attraction to him, Eden makes it her mission to find out exactly who or what Jaxson Foster is.

Eden begins to dig for the truth, but the deeper she looks, the more her life seems to be in danger. Everyone around her thinks she’s going crazy, and Eden begins to agree until she finds herself pulled into Faeylon—a world that nightmares are made of. Caught in the center of a dark game, Eden realizes there can only be one winner, and she is the prize.



Dark&Twisted Games paperpack book cover

Author Bio:
Heidi Acosta was born on Long Island, New York. Moving around a lot when she was younger, she has lived in New York, Arizona, New York (again), Washington, Georgia, and Florida, in that order. Each place offered her something special, but she will always consider New York her home.
Heidi started writing as soon as she could spell. When she was three, Heidi's mother gave her a copy of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House in the Big Woods; thus beginning her lifelong love affair with literature.
Writing soon also became a form of therapy for Heidi, when she realized that no matter what was happening in her life, she could find emotional escape while writing. Some of her earliest stories featured her as a princess who explored new worlds with her horse Buttercup. If it sounds romantic, it wasn't, there was no prince charming in those fairy lands (boys where yucky).
Heidi now resides in Florida with her husband, very active daughter, one hyper Chihuahua, two sweet cats, and one very fat moody cat.
Barbie Girl is the first Novel of Heidi's new, four-book, Baby Doll Series: Barbie Girl, Barbie World, Doll Face, and Southern Sugar.

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Friday, March 4, 2016

Submission Specialist Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Submission Specialist
Ada Scott
(Still a Bad Boy #2)
Publication date: February 26th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

Instead of Prince Charming, I got Him.

Skylar
I promised I’d save myself for my wedding night.

Of course, I didn’t know it was going to be a fake marriage to a heavyweight MMA fighter. I couldn’t have known how good it would feel to be pinned under all those muscles and tattoos, squirming, panting, and even whimpering in ecstasy.

None of us knew how deeply he was involved with the mafia.

When he disrespects them, they think they can use me to punish him.

They’re wrong.

He’s a tank in human form.

And he’s coming for me.

Austin
Men tap out inside the ring, women surrender themselves outside of it. That’s always been my specialty.

I chose Skylar because she was so innocent. A good girl like her would help sell my reformed image to the public. To corrupt her and leave her ruined for all other men would be my hottest conquest yet.

But I found more in Skylar than that. Who’d have thought that the first woman I wanted to lay more than once would be my wife?

Now they think they can take away what is mine?

Even if I have to kill every last member of the Bertolini Crime Family…

I’m coming for her.


EXCERPT

I felt like I was sitting inside my own head watching a movie play out as I dropped the remains of my apple in the trash and headed towards the Tier-1 fighters’ area. Uncle Malcolm wasn’t here to show me what to do. All I had was less than a year of study and a general appreciation of massages to rely on. It would have to do.
The Tier-1 wing had a guard at the door who looked mean enough to actually fight for NHBFC, but he let me through when he saw my uniform and heard that Gordon had sent me at Henry’s request. The hallway behind said door was just as chaotic as the ones I’d just left, but for a completely different reason.
With a smaller group of fighters to look after, and an already smaller staff diminished by illness, it was the MMA groupies making the most noise over here. Clusters of some of the most stunning girls currently in the city hovered around their favorite fighters’ doors, giggling and talking loudly. It wasn’t official of course, but the guard knew only to let in the best of the best.
The intensity of their beauty only served to make me feel self-conscious, as I awkwardly nudged my way through them to Austin’s door. Most of them were taller than me and the tops they wore made absolutely sure to show off their breasts, at my eye-level, to maximum effect.
They made me feel like a potato in a diamond display case as I sheepishly knocked on the door. A few moments later an older guy, Austin’s coach, snatched the door open.
“I told you bitches he isn’t ready yet!”
“Uh, Gordon sent me? Henry said you-”
“Oh, right, yeah. He’s just in the shower-”
The groupies in earshot all squealed and started talking at once.
“You come in, he’ll be ready in a second, I’m stepping out. Lock it behind you. Which of you girls wants to do me a special favor so I put a good word in for you with The Killer?”
I squeezed past him as a chorus of “I do!” “I will” rang out behind me. One of them said “How come the cleaning lady gets to go in?” Another said, “I’ll deepthroat your-” just as the door clicked shut.
Stepping into a Tier-1 dressing room after working on the other side for so long was like stepping into first-class on an airplane after only ever flying coach. They had all the same stuff that we had, but instead of bare concrete, there was actual paint on the walls, a permanent massage table, a brand new heavy punching bag hung from the ceiling on a chain. Plenty of bells and whistles.
Steam poured out of a cracked-open door and I could hear a shower running. I walked over and paused by the door, before knocking even more tentatively than I had on the other one.
“Austin? I’m here for the-”
“I told Ross to tell you I wasn’t ready!” he yelled out.
“Uh… no I’m not… uh… I work here? Henry said you needed a massage?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be right out.”
The sound of running water stopped and I caught a flash of movement in the steamed-up mirror through the opening. Quickly, I turned and faced the other way, ashamed at the flush of excitement that came unbidden and made me bite my bottom lip without thinking about it.
After a couple minutes I felt the waft of air as the door was pulled open behind me, and turned to face him. Standing there, wearing only a towel, with beads of water dripping down his neck and torso from his hair, was fan (and my) favorite, Austin “The Killer” Aquila.
That perfectly sculpted body looked like it was made from granite by an artist with an eye for sin, then decorated with ink in designs that curled all over. His thick arms had contours that drew my eyes up to his broad shoulders, and then sent them down across his pecs and over each and every bump of his abs.
His lower abdominals formed lines that narrowed as my eyes roamed lower… lower… lower until the visual ride was abruptly cut off by the towel, which he held up by one hand.
I looked up and heard my jaw click shut when our eyes met. I only hoped I’d closed my mouth before I drooled. If I was looking at him like a piece of art, he was looking at me like a piece of food, and it took all my willpower not to find a plate to climb on to.
All heavyweights have a certain presence. It would be hard not to when you’re a tank that has briefly assumed human form, but Austin had presence that almost seemed to make the air crackle between us and around him. His eyes, they were looking at me in a way that would give my dad a stroke. That brought me partway back to reality.
“Um… over there?” I pointed at the massage table.
“You sure you work here?” he asked.
“Yeah, I… I normally work in Tier-2…”
Austin closed the distance between us and leaned down towards me. My heart tried to jump up my throat to get a better view out my mouth at all that solid muscle so close to me, and my ability to breathe be damned.
“Because, if you’re another girl that stole a uniform just to get in here… well, I’ll have to do to you what I did to her.”
A drop of water fell from his head and landed on my ear, making me flinch. The scent of soap and the faint musk of him filled my lungs as I took a deep breath to offer whatever reassurance I could.
“I promise I work here,” I squeaked.


athlete like me

Author Bio:
Join me here for free downloads, discounts and news:
http://adascott.com/free-bad-boy-romance-download/
A former office drone, a former nurse, I now spend every waking moment doing what I love, creating and publishing these steamy stories about bad boys from the mafia, motorcycle clubs, and mma that make me, and hopefully you, weak at the knees! Anywhere a bad boy can be found, I'll be there taking notes and making it even sexier :)

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Thursday, March 3, 2016

Trust Me Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Trust Me
D.A.R.K. Cover, Inc.
Book Two
Aliyah Burke

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Military Romance, Romantic Suspense

Publisher: ARe Books

Date of Publication: March 1, 2016

ISBN: 9781943576685
ASIN: TBD

Word Count: 20000

Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill

Book Description:

To survive the present and have a future, she must trust a man from her past.

Shelly Marie Dixon is a woman with a scary past. Literally. Never able to settle in one place because of the man set on tormenting her. After five years of struggling to move on with her life, she goes back to the man she left years ago. Hopefully, he will help her and not brush her aside.

Adam Wilder, eldest brother and co-founder of D.A.R.K Cover, Inc., never in his wildest dreams expected to find his lost love sitting in the lobby of his company building. No way he’s letting her face this danger alone. If it takes all of D.A.R.K’s resources he will risk it. Whatever it takes to keep her safe. Problem is, will he be able to keep it professional, because one look at her and he wants to go back to how things were, way back when.

The only way that is going to happen is if she’ll believe him when he says: “Trust me.”

ARe    Amazon    Kobo    iTunes


Excerpt

Adam Wilder scowled as he strode through the winter snow to the plowed path leading to the D.A.R.K. Cover, Inc. building. His shoulder still ached from the bullet that he’d received in the last month. He could do for a rest, no argument.
Go to Belize as I did. It’ll do you a world of good.
His youngest brother Wild’s words echoed through his mind as he yanked the outer door open and pushed into the heat. He tugged on the cuff of his black leather glove and headed for the stairs. He had too damn much paperwork waiting for him.
“Adam? Adam, do you have a sec?”
He paused three steps before the stairs. His sister-in-law Karen—who doubled as their secretary—called his name.
“Yes.”
“Can you open the closet, please?”
He peered over his shoulder to see her carrying a stack of boxes. Adam dropped his bag and hurried to her side. “What are you doing? Where’s Rhodi? He shouldn’t let you carry so much.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
He grunted and took the four boxes from her, smiling down on her short blonde hair. “Never said you were. Implied my brother is a lazy bastard, but never that you’re an invalid.”
She punched him and, solely because he liked her, he gave the obligatory grunt. An act that earned him another hit. She opened the door and he maneuvered by to place the boxes down on the table before sliding them onto the steel grey shelf.
“How’s my nephew?”
“Demanding, turning more like his daddy.” She rocked back on her heels, hands in pockets. “Never imagined I’d enjoy being a mom. He’s everything to me.”
“Brayden’s a great kid. Go on, I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”
She smiled and nodded, the twinkle in her eyes making him wonder if she’d not waited for him to do it. He didn’t mind really.
Ten minutes later, he left and headed back to swipe his bag, then took the stairs two at a time. He tossed his bag to land near the black leather couch as he continued to the large desk, also black, and sat heavily.
He needed to get away. His last mission had taken more from him than it should have. More than he cared to admit. Moreover, the problem was, it shouldn’t have for it had been a babysitting gig. Woman and her son, hiding from the ex-husband’s parents who—if he did say so himself—were some ruthless bastards.
For the next two hours he took care of paperwork, lining up other jobs and making notes on completed ones. His phone buzzed and he hit the button with the pen. “Yes?”
“Could you come down here please?”
Adam didn’t hesitate, he wasn’t fond of the tremor in her voice. “On my way.” He grabbed his Glock, made sure the magazine was full, and shoved it in the back of his waistband as he hurried to the door. He took the stairs and pushed through the door to find his sister-in-law sitting at her desk, watching for him. Scanning the area, he didn’t see anyone and met her gaze once more.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
Another look around their waiting room. No one was there. “Who are you talking about, Karen?”
The door to the bathroom opened and a small figure stepped out, ball cap pulled low over the face, so he couldn’t tell who it was.
“Her.”
He ran another perusal of her. Her fear was obvious and her suspicion. He glanced back to Karen, who shook her head to his unasked question of why she called him. Derek had a way of making women feel safe, he was the lighthearted one. Not Adam.
“She asked for you by name,” Karen whispered, answering the question as to why it was him.
Raking a hand through his hair, he stepped forward. “You asked to see me?” he queried, willing her to lift her gaze.
She raised a hand and removed her hat, simultaneously tilting her chin. Dark red curls tumbled free as he was speared by a pair of emerald green eyes he never thought he’d see again in his lifetime. His lungs were empty and it took a moment for him to comprehend, his brain reminding him to breathe.
“Shelly Marie?” Surely it had to be a mistake he was seeing her before him.
“I know I’m the last person you want to see, Adam, but I need your help.” That pink tongue of hers darted out to dampen her lips. “Please.”



About the Author:

Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached here, or feel free to apply to join her yahoo group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/aliyah_burke.
She is married to a career military man, they have a German Shepherd, two Borzoi, and a DSH cat. Her days are spent sharing her time between work, writing, and dog training.





Her Master's Servant blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Her Master’s Servant
Kait Jagger
(Lord and Master #2)
Publication date: January 18th 2016
Genres: Erotica, Romance


Betrayed. Luna Gregory has been betrayed by both her long-time mentor and the love of her life. Reeling from the discovery that the Marchioness of Lionsbridge used her as a pawn in a plot to retain control of the 500-year-old Arborage Estate, Luna runs as far away as she can get, to remote Shetland. But though she tries to put the past behind her, she can’t escape memories of the overwhelming love she shared with the heir of Lionsbridge, Stefan Lundgren. And Stefan has vowed to get her back, by any means necessary.

Stefan ultimately reclaims what is his in a single, searing night of passion, but the wounds he and Luna have inflicted on each other run deep. As they attempt to rebuild a future together, a dark seam of power, lust and control opens up between them. Addictive as it is enthralling, Stefan’s tender abuse awakens an answering darkness in Luna. Can they stop punishing each other? Do they want to? The fate of Arborage – and of their love – hangs in the balance.

The hotly anticipated second book in the Lord and Master trilogy.



EXCERPT

Luna walked to her backpack, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. As she bent to retrieve it, she caught a motion in the darkness beside her and jumped. Ah, it was a standing mirror – she was jumping at her own reflection. Shaking her head at her nerves, she lowered her backpack and moved closer to the mirror, studying herself.
Her eyes, as ever, were enormous and translucent, and her skin was deathly pale; she certainly looked the part of a ghost. Gaze scanning downward, however, Luna experienced a burgeoning sense of unease. For the first time, she noticed that the gauzy material in the bodice clung to her in a way that left no doubt she wasn’t wearing a bra. It was, well… if she’d been a little less dismayed, Luna might have felt justifiably proud, because they looked phenomenal, the curved tops of her breasts pressing against the gauze as they descended gracefully into the scattering of sequins and beading that covered her nipples.
Craning her neck, she observed that the scooped back of the dress was more revealing than she’d appreciated, exposing not just most of her spine but the curve of her waist as well. And the skirt. Bloody hell, Kayla was right, her booty was… hard to miss. Biting her lip, Luna frowned at her reflection. This really, really wasn’t the look she’d been going for tonight.
‘Quite an eyeful, isn’t it,’ came a voice from behind her. Luna spun around to see Stefan sat cross-legged on the bed, half obscured by its drapes and the stygian gloom of his cousin’s room.
‘Jesus!’ she gasped, placing a hand on her chest, where her heart was fluttering against the gauze like a hummingbird against a net. Then, ‘This is your room.’
‘No, as you can see, it’s James’s.’ His teeth flashed coldly in the darkness. As Luna’s eyes adjusted to the dark she saw that he’d removed his jacket and cufflinks and rolled up his shirt sleeves. His feet were bare and he looked so… like himself. So like the Stefan she knew.
Realisation dawning, she said, ‘Augusta put you in here, I assume?’
‘For my sins.’ His smile was self-deprecating and in spite of herself Luna smiled in return. She couldn’t think of a worse fate than being installed in his dead cousin’s room, expected to replace the irreplaceable.
They stayed where they were for a moment, a silent truce in force. But then Luna lifted her backpack onto her shoulders and said, ‘I have to go.’
Suddenly, he was off the bed like a big game cat, springing toward her, grabbing her shoulders and lifting her up onto her toes.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, because that’s what you do, isn’t it.’ And then he was dragging her toward the door, throwing it open, his fingers digging into her shoulders. ‘You should go, Luna,’ he told her. ‘Nothing good will come of you staying here, I can promise you that.’
She heard the sound of muffled laughter and the tinkling of glass bottles from down the hall.
‘And that, if I’m not mistaken, is your American friend, helping herself to my family’s house uninvited,’ he said. ‘She’ll be around the corner any second now and she’ll see you here with me. So you’d better run, just like you always do.’ His face hardened and he shook her brutally. Luna made a noise, of pain or protest, she wasn’t sure which, and the undercurrent between them shifted.
Lowering his head till it was within millimetres of her own, Stefan angled his face against hers and, like a snake being charmed, Luna mirrored him, her eyelids lowering, growing heavy along with his. ‘Run, Luna,’ he said softly. And reached to her shoulders, lifting the straps there, lowering her backpack to the floor. ‘You aren’t safe here,’ he said, removing her shoes from her hand, dropping them next to the backpack. ‘Run,’ he repeated, the fingers of one hand digging into her chignon while the other pushed the door shut, turning the key in the lock.
He shoved her against it then, reaching his hands up to the yoke of her dress. She heard it tearing, felt the muscles in his arms flexing against her collarbone, heard the sound of beads and sequins showering to the floor as he ripped it to her waist and tore it off her.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he said, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed.

Author Bio: 
I live on a farm in Lancashire, England with my husband, four children, one dog and one cat. Like Luna Gregory, the lead character of the Lord and Master trilogy, I make my living as a personal assistant.





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Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Icy Passage Tour & Excerpt!

Icy Passage
Ann Gimpel

Dream Shadow Press
110K words

Release Date: 2/29/16

Genre: Supernatural thriller romance

Tumble into the icy danger of Antarctica with a blazing hot romance. Mittens and fan required.

Book Description:

Fresh out of residency, Dr. Kayna Quan opts for a tour in Antarctica. Money is short, so she hires on as medical officer aboard a Russian research vessel headed for McMurdo Station. Primed for almost anything, she plays her paranormal ability close to the vest.

Stationed on remote South Georgia Island for two years, Brynn McMichaels is eager for a change. When cultures of the single-celled organism, archaea, overgrow their bins in his lab and begin shifting into another form, he worries he’s losing his mind and talks with scientists at McMurdo, but they have problems of their own—bad ones. Brynn agrees to help. The weather’s too uncertain to send a plane, so he hitches a ride aboard Kayna’s ship and brings his mutant culture colonies along.

Attraction sparks, urgent, hot and powerful, between Brynn and Kayna, but her disclosure about her magic is a tough nut to crack. It doesn’t help that her dead father is stalking her. Lethal cultures, bizarre illness, and McMurdo’s refusal to let them land force Brynn and Kayna into an uneasy alliance. Will their fragile bond be enough to thwart the powers trying to destroy Earth, and them along with it?


Kobo    ARe    Google Play



Excerpt 

from Icy Passage:
Chapter One

Micah Greenwich sucked air as he pushed up from his squat, a weight bar balanced across his shoulders. He did one more squat before a wave of dizziness threatened to bring him to his knees. Gasping, he shucked the bar onto pins protruding from the back of the squat rack and grabbed one of the metal stanchions for support. A headache pounded behind one eye, and he felt nauseous.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he muttered, still clinging to the metal cage shoved in a back corner of the gym at McMurdo Station, Antarctica. No one was in the gym. Not at this hour. Granted, the perpetual night for part of the year, followed by perpetual day, yielded some odd circadian rhythms, but Micah rarely had competition for any of the gym machines or weight equipment late at night.
He glanced at the weight plates balanced on the ends of the forty-five pound bar, thinking perhaps he’d misjudged and put too much weight on it, but that wasn’t the issue. He shrugged. Maybe he was getting sick. Something was going around. So far, he’d been lucky during his brief stint at the southern end of the Earth and had avoided the colds and flus McMurdo residents passed among themselves like candy.
He wiped sweat from his face with a ratty towel and decided to call it a night—at least for working out. He still needed to stop by his lab. Because he was the newest and greenest microbiologist, he’d been assigned archaea, the most ancient single-celled life form on the planet. His cultures had taken a decidedly odd turn, though, a couple of weeks back—growing like mad and not looking like any prokaryote he’d ever seen. While he might have started with archaea, what was in his bins didn’t look much like them anymore.
Another wave of nausea battered him, and he folded his arms around his midsection, wondering if he was going to vomit. Saliva flooded his mouth, but he choked it back. Even though he didn’t feel like doing anything beyond finding his bed, he left the gym and made his way three buildings over to his lab. McMurdo was a series of prefab buildings with interconnecting doors and insulated tunnel-walkways, so you didn’t have to go outside into the weather. Antarctica never got particularly warm, and nights were always bitter.
He glanced out a window at an inky sky shot with stars, and a reluctant smile split his face. It might be minus something outside, but it was beautiful too. He’d always loved wild, remote places, and Antarctica was about as wild and remote as it got—shy of signing up to be an astronaut, which was a long-standing dream of his.
Micah frowned, wondering if the astronaut gig was even possible. The United States had cut their funding for the space program rather dramatically. Besides, he needed more in the way of credentials to even be considered for something like that. With another swipe at his still sweaty face—the more he thought about it, the surer he was he was coming down with the flu—he pushed open the door to his lab and froze, not believing his eyes.
“Britta?” he called. “Marguerite!”
The women didn’t answer. They sprawled face down on the floor in front of his main workbench, clearly passed out. Wondering if they’d gotten into the high-grade, ethyl alcohol he used to preserve things, he called their names again, louder this time. The longer he looked at them, the weirder he felt. They were too still. Sudden fear gripped him, making the nausea worse.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Why me?” he muttered, and raced to the women. He bent, grabbed Britta’s shoulder, and shook her. When she didn’t respond, he flipped her over and stared at her cherry red face.
Fighting a deeply sinking feeling, he turned Marguerite over. She looked just like her friend and roommate. Micah squatted next to them and laid his fingers across their necks, searching for a pulse.
Nothing.
He placed his ear over their hearts, willing there to be something, anything, before he started CPR. Still nothing. He ground his teeth together, unnerved. How could there possibly be two dead women in his lab?
Even though he was pretty sure it wouldn’t do any good, he tilted Marguerite’s head back and breathed into her mouth before doing chest compressions. When he looked over at Britta, he understood he had to have help and lurched to his feet. Snapping up the wall phone, he punched in the after hours code for the clinic. As soon as one of the nurses answered, he screeched, “Send help now. Third micro lab.”
His headache worsened. So did his twisting, roiling guts, but he went back to the women. He didn’t need to be a doctor to recognize death. Despite the futility, he alternated CPR from one to the next. Five long minutes passed—but they felt like five years—before the door burst open.
“Christ!” One of the docs—Stewart maybe, Micah was too rattled to take a good look—pulled him off Marguerite. A tall, broad-shouldered woman Micah didn’t recognize examined Britta.
“Looks like carbon monoxide poisoning to me,” the female medic said flatly. “This one’s well past CPR.”
Dr. Stewart rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, her too.” He trained his blue eyes on Micah. “What happened?”
Micah shook his head. “Damned if I know. I just got here. I had dinner in the mess hall, worked out in the gym, and then I swung by here to check on my cultures.”
The woman narrowed her eyes and half-crawled to where Micah sat on the floor. She folded her fingers over his wrist and took him in with practiced hazel eyes. Her reddish hair was short, almost in a butch cut. She pressed her lips into a harsh line, frowning.
“I’m Ariana,” she said, letting go of his wrist. “One of the nurse practitioners. How have you been feeling?”
“Bad,” he admitted. “Think I finally succumbed to the community disease everyone else has.”
Dr. Stewart joined them and squatted next to Micah. He ran a hand down the side of Micah’s neck and listened to his chest with a stethoscope before exchanging a pointed glance with Ariana. “Where’s the CO meter in here?” he asked.
Micah gestured behind him. “On that wall.” He twisted to look at it, but the indicator light was green—safe. Maybe it was defective. His scientifically trained mind arranged informational bits into an unpleasant pattern. “The women,” he said. “If I’d been firing on all cylinders, I’d have figured it out as soon as I looked at the color of their faces. They died from carbon monoxide poisoning, didn’t they?”
“Probably.” Dr. Stewart said cautiously. “But it’s conjecture at this point.”
“That cherry red color is a dead giveaway,” Ariana said with conviction. “Nothing else will do that.”
“We’ll wait for an autopsy before we make statements like that.” The doctor eyed his colleague coolly.
“Yes, Doctor. Sir. King of all things medical.” She set her lips in a thin line, clearly biting back further sarcasm. “Meantime,” she ground out, “I’m pretty sure he—” she jabbed a finger at Micah “—has whatever killed these two.” She stood and punched numbers into the wall phone. “I’m calling security.”
Dr. Stewart sifted his hands through his untidy, blond hair. “Tell them to alert maintenance. Until we figure out what killed these two, we’ve got to get out of here. Now.”
Micah straightened. “Wait a minute,” he sputtered. “The meter says it’s safe. For all we know, Britta and Marguerite got poisoned elsewhere and just happened to be in here cleaning when they collapsed.”
Dr. Stewart got to his feet and hauled Micah upright. “For tonight, we’ll put you in the infirmary and run tests to check if your hemoglobin’s been compromised. I’ve got to alert the boss and talk with base security. We’ll to get to the bottom of this.”
“But my lab—”
Dr. Stewart made a chopping motion with one hand, and the rest of Micah’s protest died unspoken.
Ariana hung up the phone and nodded at Dr. Stewart. “You take care of the boss. I’ll deal with security and maintenance. Need to get the gas sniffer in here to make sure there’s not a leak.”
Micah tried to focus, but the room spun crazily. He really was wiped out. Much more tired than a thirty-year-old man had a right to feel.
“Can you walk?” Dr. Stewart nudged him.
Micah focused bleary eyes on the physician. “Yeah. I think so.”
“How are you feeling?” Ariana asked the doctor.
He shrugged. “Normal. But it takes time for exposure to take a toll. Micah probably lives in this lab, except when he’s asleep.”
“Yeah, but,” Micah pointed out, “those women didn’t. They clean all the science labs. Maybe one of the other ones is the problem.”
The doctor folded an arm around Micah’s waist supporting him, and led him out of the lab. “I’m on it. By the time you wake up, we’ll know more.”
Micah staggered through the door, flanked by Dr. Stewart and Ariana. “What are you going to do about the women?” he asked.
“You were there when I alerted base security. They’ll take care of them,” Ariana assured him. “For tonight, focus on getting well.”
* * * *
It hadn’t been just that night, though. Micah spent the next three days in the infirmary sucking bottled oxygen. When that didn’t clear his red blood cells fast enough, the doctors ordered chelation treatments. In the meantime, he had a chance to think, and he didn’t care for what he came up with. Besides, it was so fantastic, no one would believe him.
Maintenance had given his lab, and the other three microbiology studios, a clean bill of health, which meant he could go back to work tomorrow. Even more disturbing, the entirety of the science wing where the dead women cleaned showed zip in the way of evidence of a gas leak. In the interest of thoroughness, maintenance had checked the female dorms too, and found exactly nothing. Autopsy was conclusive regarding cause of death, but no one could figure out how the women had been exposed to a big enough dose of carbon monoxide to kill them.
The same was true for him—major exposure to something pigging up his hemoglobin, but without an identifiable source. Another few hours without medical intervention and he’d have been just as dead as Britta and Marguerite.
Armed with that knowledge—and a phalanx of unanswered questions—Micah spent his downtime in the infirmary mapping out a series of tests to run on his strange archaea colonies. He had suspicions, but needed facts before he presented them to Jack DeVoe, the man in charge of McMurdo operations. If he went to him now, Jack, who had a Ph.D. in biochemistry, would laugh him right out of his office. And there would go Micah’s hopes of earning his chops, so he could go on to something more prestigious than working at McMurdo Station.



About the Author:

Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients, now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality. When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with her camera. She’s published over 30 books to date, with several more planned for 2016 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and wolf hybrids round out her family.

Find Ann At:





@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)





Flesh and Blood Cover Reveal


Flesh and Blood
Cynthia Rayne
(The Dixie Mafia Series, #1)
Publication date: Spring 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance, Thriller


Sometimes it takes a bad guy to catch a killer…

Annabelle Nunn is a desperate woman. Someone’s following her, watching her. To make matters worse, she was fired six months ago and hasn’t been able to get a job since. Annabelle’s down to her last ten dollars and thirty-three cents and has no idea how she’ll make the rent when she’s abducted by Dixon Wolf’s henchman. Annabelle’s estranged father borrowed money from the Dixie Mafia for his latest get rich quick scheme and…big surprise…he skipped town, leaving her holding the proverbial bag.

Dixon Wolfe is a loan shark and launders dirty Dixie Mafia money. Since his wife died ten years ago, he’s devoted all his time and energy to the organization. And being bad pays pretty damn good. Until he meets Annabelle. Suddenly, his priorities shift and his icy heart is starting to thaw.

Dix makes Annabelle a job offer her empty wallet won’t allow her to refuse – Mob Mistress. But working for a mobster is dangerous. Doubly so, when a hitman is hot on her tail and she doesn’t know why. Can Dix catch the killer? And will Dix and Anabelle have a real relationship, one that isn’t based on sex and commerce?


dixiem

Author Bio:
Cynthia Rayne is the author of the Amazon best-selling Four Horsemen MC series. Her first erotic book was written when she was thirteen. Of course, the most risqué scene involved kissing, but it was the talk of her middle school! She is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in education and writes whenever she can. In her spare time, she enjoys dating, shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee.

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Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Tiger Lily Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Tiger Lily
Wende Dikec

Genre: YA Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Inkspell Publishing

Date of Publication: January 13, 2016

ISBN: 978-1-939590-59-6 (ebook)
ISBN: 1939590779 (paperback)
ASIN: B018A6N548

Number of pages: 156
Word Count: 56,000
Cover Artist: Najla Qamber

Book Description:

Lily Madison thought dying because of a bad manicure was the worst thing that could happen. She was wrong.

Waking up in the hospital and realizing she's being stalked by an entire herd of naughty little ghosts turns her entire world upside down. She begins to doubt her own sanity until she realizes she isn't alone. A Goth girl, named Zoe, can see the ghosts, too.

Most of the ghosts look like fuzzy blobs, but one is not blobby at all. He's a very hot, very annoying dead guy named Nick. Although they dislike each other on sight, Nick soon realizes Lily is his only hope. With the help of Zoe and Mr. Wan, the manicurist who almost killed her, she has only days to get Nick and the other ghosts back where they belong or the whole world will be in terrible danger.

But sending the ghosts back means saying goodbye to Nick forever, and Lily isn't sure she'll ever be able to let him go.

Amazon      Kobo      Barnes and Noble


"First Wende Dikec grabs you with her fresh writing, then she keeps you in the throes of her story with an incredible voice and a gifted talent for spinning tales that will amaze and delight. I am stunned. Tiger Lily will consume you, and before you know it you are fighting for air yet begging for more. You've been warned!"
--NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones


Excerpt

I died because of a bad manicure. It wasn’t a nasty fungal infection from the manicurist using dirty equipment, or a cut that allowed deadly bacteria to creep under my skin and rot me from the inside out. I died because on impulse I let Mr. Wan of Wan Fine Lady Nail Salon paint my nails a color called Pretty and Pink.
With my red hair and pale skin, pink is tricky, but I trusted Mr. Wan. When he told me, “New color, big discount for you, Lily Madison,” I didn’t realize he actually meant, “Bad color, nobody else wants it.”
I’ve never been a risk taker. My idea of living on the edge was not having an extra bottle of hand sanitizer in my purse. I knew the pink would be a mistake, but I ignored my inner voice. I guess the smell of acetone and the hum of the nail dryers had lulled me into such a relaxed state that I didn’t realize how awful the color actually looked until I drove home in the BMW my parents had given me for my sixteenth birthday.
Pretty and Pink was false advertising, but as I learned long ago in my ninth grade science fair project, neither the government nor the FDA regulates the names of nail polish colors. I didn’t have a case, but I felt extremely upset.
I didn’t see the ice cream truck stopped in the middle of the road. I was staring at my nails, wishing I’d gone with my first choice, Princesses Rule!, a frosty pale pink that would have enhanced my natural skin tone. I glanced up just in time to narrowly avoid hitting the truck and several small children caught in a snow-cone-induced feeding frenzy.
It’s funny how accidents happen in slow motion. I remember the shocked faces of the people on the street as I swerved and flew over a small embankment. Someone screamed, and it took me a full second to realize the high-pitched wail came from my own mouth. I’d started screaming the minute I’d steered away from the ice cream truck, screamed some more as my car became an airborne missile, and continued screaming until it landed in the deep, murky waters of Lake Eugene.
I tried to open my door, but it refused to budge. My windows wouldn’t roll down either. I pressed the buttons anyway, even the one on the dashboard to turn on the radio, but none of them worked except my hazard lights. I didn’t know I had hazard lights, although I’d read all about them in my driver’s ed class. They blinked on and off, illuminating the darkness around me with an eerie, red, pulsating beacon.
I unbuckled my seat belt and searched for something to break a window with, but couldn’t find anything. I swung my purse at it, pounded it with the heel of my shoe, and even tried stabbing it with my nail file. I reached for my phone to call for help, but it was too late.
As the car filled with water and I gasped for air, the last thing I saw was that awful color on my nails as I scratched and clawed at the window until my fingers bled and everything turned black. As I died, I thought about my parents, and my friends, and all the things I would never get to do, and the fact that Mr. Wan had just lost his very best customer due to his own negligence. I hoped he would be sorry. Thinking about how bad he’d feel gave me just a little peace before I slipped away into darkness.


About the Author:

Wende Dikec has spent her life traveling the world, and collecting stories wherever she visited. She writes in several romance genres, and her books are quirky, light, and fun. Fluent in several languages and married to a man from Istanbul, Wende is a trekkie, a book hoarder, master of the Nespresso machine, and mother of three boys. A puppy named Capone is the most recent addition to her family, and she blogs about him as a way of maintaining what little sanity she has left.









Tour giveaway

Sign up for Wende’s newsletter for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card.  https://madmimi.com/signups/177092/join




Burning Choice Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Burning Choice
Aubrey Parker
(Trevor’s Harem, #3)
Publication date: March 1st 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance


I’ve been in this billionaire’s game for a month — but something changed when half my competition was eliminated.

It feels less like a contest now … and more like an experiment.

I shouldn’t have made it past the first round. I don’t know how I did; I’m not special like the others. When I ask Daniel, he just tells me it’s complicated. Then he talks about brain chemistry, how love and sex are an addiction. He tells me how wild animals claim mates, and how he’s claimed me.

The stakes are higher.

The competition is fiercer.

I should have been kicked out long ago, but Daniel tells me I might be the needle in the haystack the company has been looking for.

Sometimes I’m afraid of them all, even of Daniel.

But It’s like I’m on a tether. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.



EXCERPT

“I want to show you something.” Jessica flops sideways, grabs one of my pillows, and then pulls me down by my wrist so I’m lying beside her. She puts the pillow on the bed and rolls so she’s perched on it. Her head ticks, nodding halfway, as if to beckon me closer. I come, and she doesn’t stop gesturing until I’m close enough to smell the almond in her shampoo.
Her mischievous eyes watch me. Then she reaches for the covers, which I’ve piled to one side after rising. I’ve never been a bed maker. Because fuck that.
She drags the covers over us. We’re facedown on the bed, our faces above the pillow. Jessica shoves her face into the pillow and moans.
Or, now that I listen more closely, mumbling.
“Put your face in the pillow.”
“I’ve heard that line before,” I say.
“Just do it, Bridget.”
So I do. And then Bridget mumbles again. This time I clearly hear her say, “They can’t hear sound that doesn’t hit the walls.”
I don’t know what to make of that. I raise back up, so she pulls me back down, her arm draped across my back.
“Do you remember how they said there were blind spots from the cameras? The southwest corner of the kitchen, the front lawn, thirty yards equidistant between the fountains.”
“Between the fountains,” I repeat, nodding into the pillow, feeling stupid.
“Thirty yards equidistant. Not just directly between them. There’s only forty-five yards between the fountains. You have to come away at an angle, to the south. It has to be to the south because the wall is at the same angle to the north.”
“I just remember ‘between the fountains.’” And I’m lucky I remember that. That first night, they listed so many rules and details, I stopped listening. But Jessica apparently didn’t. She lists another eight or ten places, most of which barely sound familiar.
“Were you taking notes?”
Instead of answering, she says, “The mics also have dead spots — too much ground to eavesdrop everywhere. I was out back and spotted one near the peeing fountain thing. You know the peeing fountain?”
I nod.
“Then I found two more. They’re hard to find without looking like you’re looking, if you know what I mean.”
I don’t. Not really.
“I got the model number. They seem to all be the same. And that model is semi-directional, probably because if they’re not selective, they’ll hear all the birds whistling and pots banging and clocks ticking and stuff. The noise profile is … ” And for a second it’s like I’m back in my studio, studying technical manuals.
“Are you a sound engineer or something?”
“I read a catalog once.”
“What kind of catalog?”
“I was bored,” she answers.
Jessica’s eyes flick toward the ceiling, and she runs her fingers through my hair. “Sorry,” she says about the touch. “But if we don’t do something to justify lying here in bed, they’re going to pay closer attention than we want.” And then her hand goes under the covers, starts disturbing the sheets without actually fondling me — though surely, that’s what it’s supposed to look like from the cameras’ point of view.
My eyes scan what of the room I can still see, ass up and face in the pillow as I am. I know the cameras are there, and microphones with them. And I have to admit Jessica is probably right. They’d have to use mics with a reasonably narrow profile, or there’d be too much noise to make the recordings worthwhile. Talking into a noise dampener like a big lump of foam and fabric will absorb most of what we say, keeping any little echoes from bouncing around and being heard. It’s a risk I wouldn’t take without research into what’s watching and listening to us, but Jess is acting like research isn’t necessary. She saw a model number and somehow already knew everything about that specific model … and, apparently, everything else in the catalog. It’s fucking weird. But what the hell? It’s not like I wanted to be here in the first place, so screwing up and getting booted now doesn’t bug me as much as it bothers the others. I guess it’s no more risk to trust her than anything else.
“So,” Jessica says, speaking into the pillow. “Let’s talk about Daniel for you, Trevor for me, and how the hell you’re still around.”



Author Bio:
I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

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