Saturday, March 19, 2016

Cloaked in Secrecy blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Cloaked in Secrecy
T.F. Walsh
(The Wulfkin Legacy #2)
Published by: Crimson Romance
Publication date: March 14th 2016
Genres: Adult, Paranormal
What better way for a pack of wulfkin shifters to remain in seclusion than to hide in plain sight?

Death has followed Alena Novac’s circus family for years, but when the police arrest her brother for murder, she must rescue him before he transforms behind prison walls. With less than a week to execute her plan, a member from the Varlac family who murdered her mother reappears. Now, Alena has to decide whether to make good on her promise to avenge her mother’s death or risk rescuing her brother.

Enre Ulf has one mission – prevent Alena’s father from claiming his territory and slaughtering his wulfkin pack in Transylvania. Enre may have turned his back on his Varlac heritage, but that doesn’t mean he won’t impersonate one to infiltrate the circus clan and take out their alpha. Knowing that his secrets will lead to his demise, Enre takes the risk in order to save his home. What he never planned on was his wolf claiming Alena as his mate.

Now with the police closing in, and the real Varlac threatening them, Alena and Enre must overcome their pasts to save their packs’ futures. 
Cloaked in Secrecy is the book 2 in the Wulfkin Legacy series, but can be read a stand-alone-book.


CIS Stare Quote


EXCERPT

ALENA
“Girl, you going to stand there all day?” Sonia’s voice turned loud as she snapped me back to the here and now.
She sat at the table, both hands clasped around at least a dozen twigs, each about half a foot long. Balancing the ends on the center of the table, she let the twigs fall and studied the way the pieces of wood collapsed on top of each other. The majority crisscrossed each other, others rolled away from the pile.
Sonia’s dark-blonde curls were pulled off her face with a headband. She wore no makeup or her usual fake gypsy jewelry reserved for the circus customers.
“Have a seat.” She spoke without taking her eyes from the pile of sticks in front of her, her head tilting from side to side.
Taking a chair at the table and kicking aside a boot, I reconsidered telling her about my dream with Enre. The more I replayed the vision in my mind, the more I was convinced it was me lusting over him. Heat radiated down my neck at the thought of telling Sonia that I’d turned into some horny nymph.
“What do you see?” No matter how many times Sonia read my future, my insides still fluttered.
“He’s at the circus for you.”
“The Varlac?” I slouched into the chair, arms folded across my chest, fire scaling my cheeks. “I doubt it.” Not the first time the twigs would have been misinterpreted.
“You’ll bring a change out in him. How exciting.” She flashed me a cheerful smile.
A thousand possibilities swirled in my head, but none of them made any sense, except the one where I hated being paired with Enre. “What does that even mean?”
Sonia inched closer. “The universe has a sick sense of humor. It shows us only snippets of events. You know that.” She twisted in her seat and retrieved a pack of tarot cards from the bookshelf behind her. The top card had a brightly colored parrot painted on it. She sighed, stashed it back on the shelf, and continued to fumble through her numerous other decks.
“That’s for the tourists.” She spoke with her attention still on the bookshelf. “Anyway, what about you? Had any dreams lately?”
I licked my lips, deciding not to share the memory of what Enre had intended to do to me in the dream. “Not much.”
“So you dreamt about him? The shake of your head says no, but your tone tells a different story.” She giggled, a piercing laugh, as she retrieved another pack of cards, the backs printed with a kaleidoscope of colors in a diamond patchwork design. “Weeks ago, I told you a visitor was coming.” Sonia settled in her seat to face me.


CIS Female Quote

Author Bio:
T.F. Walsh emigrated from Romania to Australia at the age of eight and now lives in a regional city south of Sydney with her husband. Growing up hearing dark fairytales, she's always had a passion for reading and writing horror, paranormal romance, urban fantasy and young adult stories. She balances all the dark with light fluffy stuff like baking and traveling. 

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Daughter of Magic blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Daughter of Magic
Teresa Roman
Publication date: March 15th 2016
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult


Lilli sees things no one else does.

Desperate to make sense of the dreams and visions that have plagued her since childhood, Lilli confides in Devin, her closest friend, and the boy she’s fallen for.

Instead of questioning her sanity, Devin confesses to secrets of his own, which are far darker. His revelations about magic, witches and demons stun Lilli. But it’s what he knows about Lilli’s mother, long believed to be dead, that leaves her feeling betrayed. Despite her anger, Lilli will have to learn to trust Devin again, because he is the only one who can protect her from a dark danger that’s coming for her from a world away.




EXCERPT

“Everybody needs a hero, Lilli. I want to be yours. You just have to let me.” He reached out to brush my hair over my shoulder.
I didn’t know what to make of his words. I wanted them to mean something—that he’d begun to feel about me the way I did for him. But it was probably wishful thinking. Knowing Devin, the reason for his extra kindness was because of what happened to my father.
“After all the things you’ve done for me, I think you hit hero status quite a while ago.” I kept my voice light, even though I meant every word. Not only did he get me a job—not an easy feat in Crescent City where unemployment was rampant—but he was the first person besides my aunt that I ever felt comfortable talking to about my mother. And if he hadn’t been with me when I found my dad, I don’t know how I ever would’ve gotten past the shock.
He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “You’ve been crying.” His hand moved to my cheek. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say; of course you’ve been crying.”
Staring into Devin’s eyes, feeling his hand on my cheek, made me feel better and worse at the same time. He had no idea how impossibly hard it was to be around him when all I wanted was for him to kiss me, to tell me he needed me as badly as I did him. I lowered my gaze and he dropped his hand.

Author Bio:
Teresa currently lives in beautiful Sacramento, CA with her husband, three adorable children and a dog named Parker that her son convinced them to adopt. When she's not at her day job or running around with her kids, you can find her in front of the computer writing, or with her head buried in another book. If you'd like to find out more about her, she can be found at www.teresaromanwrites.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive book release information.

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Friday, March 18, 2016

Breaking The Story Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Breaking the Story
Ashley Farley
Publication date: March 17th 2016
Genres: Adult, Suspense


Passion, peril, and a scandal that will rock American politics.

Scottie Darden’s life is a disaster. Her marriage has become toxic, and her career as a photojournalist has stalled out. To attract the attention of the main players in the news industry, she needs a standout story with a unique perspective. What she finds is a scandal that could turn the 2016 presidential election upside down. But before she can release her damaging images to the media, Scottie must uncover the truth behind the photographs. She turns to handsome mystery man Guy Jordan for help. When they join the campaign trail in search of answers, their investigation quickly becomes deadly.

Hop on board for a wild ride of adventure where desire ignites, lives are threatened, and secrets are revealed.


BOOK TRAILER:


EXCERPT

Her cell phone lit up on the seat beside her, and Brad’s name appeared across the screen. She reached for the phone and powered it off. The next time she communicated with him would be through an attorney.
Scottie contemplated her options for a place to spend the night. Already approaching the fifty-mile mark, she couldn’t drive much farther on her spare tire. Her best friend, Anna, had been avoiding her since Christmas, since Scottie had inadvertently placed Anna’s husband in danger of losing his medical license. The rest of her friends would undoubtedly be spending quiet weekends at home, nursing their babies and making love to their husbands. She could drive to Church Hill to her brother’s house, where she knew she’d find a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. But Will would want all the details, and she wasn’t ready to give voice to her drama. Tonight, she needed time alone to think. Tonight, she needed to drink tequila.
She took a right-hand turn onto the Boulevard, drove one block, and then turned left onto Franklin Street. She parked under the portico in front of the Jefferson Hotel, handed her key to the valet, and went inside to the front desk. After booking the cheapest room available, she wheeled her suitcase around the corner and rode the elevator to the third floor. The consolation prize to having the smallest room in the most luxurious hotel in the city was the stunning view overlooking downtown Richmond.

Author Bio:
Ashley Farley is a wife and mother of two college-aged children. She grew up in the salty marshes of South Carolina, but now lives in Richmond, Virginia, a city she loves for its history and traditions.
After her brother died in 1999 of an accidental overdose, she turned to writing as a way of releasing her pent-up emotions. She wrote SAVING BEN in honor of Neal, the boy she worshipped, the man she could not save. SAVING BEN is not a memoir, but a story about the special bond between siblings.
HER SISTER'S SHOES—June 2015—is a women's novel that proves the healing power of family.
Merry Mary—October 2015—a holiday novella, a young woman longing for a child stumbles upon a Christmas miracle.
BREAKING THE STORY is scheduled for release on March 17, 2016. A romantic political suspense. Passion. Peril. And a scandal that will rock American politics.

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Thursday, March 17, 2016

Blood Royal Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Blood Royal
Legacy of Albessind
Book One
Lloyd A. Meeker

Genre: Romantic Fantasy

Publisher: Wild Rose Press

Date of Publication: February 26, 2015

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0606-3
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0607-0

Number of pages: 333
Word Count: 85k
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor

Book Description:

Struggling artist Eva Milaras is in the midst of buying groceries when a bomb blast tears the store apart. A handsome man with mysterious powers saves her life and stuffs her into a limo without a steering wheel—while treating her like royalty. Caught in a deadly web of magic and murder, Eva faces an aristocratic destiny she didn’t know about and doesn't want. Now in a strange world she has to survive the deadly schemes of her new-found relatives as they maneuver for advantage in a murderous royal court.

Talak has loved Eva long before he saved her life, but that love is doomed. She must marry a man from a royal bloodline, and Talak is duty-bound to protect her until she marries—regardless of his torn heart. Together they battle intrigue and betrayal, only to discover they must choose between letting go of each other...or certain death for treason. A choice Eva refuses to make.


Excerpt

Chapter One

Instead of the large, perfect fruit shown in the flyer, the Granny Smiths at Budget Foods were small and beaten up—yet another disappointing win for reality over promise. Eva Milaras gazed at the poor things as she tore off the coupon and stuffed the rest of the pages back into her bag. I guess we’re all bruised in one way or another.
Still, she was sure she could find half a dozen decent ones in the stack. She’d get some yams and put them together in a casserole—a tasty and inexpensive declaration that she was now back in charge of her life in spite of being broke.
She’d tough this out with what little cash she had in her purse until the gallery could figure out what was causing the mysterious delay in her payment. They owed her for two large paintings, and that money would be more than enough to get her back on her feet again. It was just a matter of time. She yanked a plastic bag from the dispenser and began picking through the apples.
She flashed on her little studio. It had great light, decent ventilation, and was within walking distance of most everything she needed. So what if she had to maneuver around her bed to get to the tiny kitchen? With Derek gone, it was all the room she needed for her easel and canvases. She’d love to keep it if she could, but the rent was due in two weeks and...well, she’d go to the gallery this afternoon, see what Leslie had to say. She found two more unbruised apples and took them as a sign of better times coming. She really would take charge of her life—simplify, concentrate on her work, and avoid complications like an unemployed boyfriend.
“Pardon, Serenissima.” A strong, warm voice from behind pulled her from her reverie.Turning, she saw a man, early thirties probably, tall and well-built, dressed completely in black. Who wears such an expensive silk shirt and slacks to Budget Foods on a Saturday morning? They had to be club clothes, but he didn’t look like he’d been out partying all night. And what a great face to paint! A delicious olive tone to his skin, deep eyes, strong angular face-planes, so... compelling, framed by black hair that fell unbound, thick and dangerously sexy, past his shoulders. Great shoulders. Lean waist. Yes, he’d make a terrific model. She found herself smiling at him, realizing too late that it probably wasn’t a good idea. He was already standing uncomfortably close.
“Are you talking to me?” She backed away and tilted her head at the apples. “I’m afraid I’ve picked through these already. Good luck finding more decent ones.”
“Forgive my abruptness,” the man said, reaching toward her, “but you must leave this place with me immediately. You are in gravest danger. Please—we must leave this instant to avoid disaster.”
Suspicion chilled the spark of interest she’d felt. “Look, I came here just for apples.” She slid one hand into her purse, locating her pepper spray. “Leave me alone, please, or I’ll call store security.”
She hoped this guy didn’t know that Howard—the entire security staff of Budget Foods currently on duty— was in his seventies and would never be able to stand up to someone like this man, who carried himself with the smooth precision of a dancer or a martial artist. But at least Howard had a radio.
The man dipped his head and upper body in an odd, twisting bow. “Milady,” he said, his voice tight and urgent. “Please, I beg you. Your life is in real danger. You must trust me in this. I will explain later, but first we must flee.”
Flee? Eva looked around at the worn ordinariness of Budget Foods, with shoppers inching their carts along the aisles. There was nothing here to flee from except boredom.
Her finger found the directional notch on the tiny canister in her bag. “Look, I don’t know you, what you’re on, or what your deal is, but you’re scaring me.” She pulled out the spray and held it up. “This is nasty stuff, and I’ll use it on you if you don’t back off—right now.” She backed away from him again and bumped into the stacked apples. Several of them tumbled to the floor—even more bruises, she thought, as if they didn’t have enough already. She kept her eyes on the stranger, wincing as the apples thumped and rolled on the scarred wooden floor.
In a single fluid motion, the man flicked the can out of her hands and wrapped his arms around her, pushing her toward the floor, covering her with his body. Before she could scream for help, an explosion ripped the storefront window open, and she heard the screams of others.
In a strange, time-suspended clarity on the way to the floor, Eva could feel the muscles of his torso flex and twist, pushing hot against her in a symphony of coordinated physical power. How the heck did he know this was going to happen? Her back hit the floor, and her breath whooshed out in a grunt. She looked up into his face. His eyes stared into hers, fierce as a looming storm. Blue gray, she thought. No, slate. He was heavier than he looked, and she needed to breathe. But he had great eyes. “Get off me!” She pushed against him, and he rolled away without protest.
She sat up. Her ears hurt. The store—or what was left of it—was a mess. She could see two, no, three shoppers on the floor, not moving. In fact, nothing moved, and the stillness was horrible.
A soft groan floated through the smoke from somewhere. Still in its pink sweatshirt sleeve, an arm without an owner lay on the floor. And blood. Lots of it. This was so wrong. Oh, my god. She swallowed several times against a wave of nausea. What on earth had happened?
Then there was movement. All around her, shards of glass began to twitch and shift, becoming dark red scorpions scuttling toward them—dozens of them, different sizes, all the same. Glass shouldn’t do that, she was certain of it.
“Do not move, Serenissima,” the stranger commanded, his voice icy. He turned his back to her, putting himself between her and the scorpions. She stared at his back. He’d been hit by several pieces of glass—two of which stuck partway out of his flesh. All of those would have hit her if he hadn’t thrown himself over her. What the hell is going on?
His hands glowed, and pale fire flowed from his fingers in dancing streams—first carving a circle around them, then striking out at each scorpion. As his fire hit each one, the creature sparked into smoke and dropped, again becoming an inert piece of glass.
What did he just do? Eva looked around, trying to locate her pepper spray, but couldn’t see where it had rolled. She needed to get out of here. But her body was too heavy, felt too far away to respond.
“I don’t know how,” the man growled, “but your enemies have discovered who you are, milady. Now you will have no peace until you reach your Ceremony or they have destroyed us both, for I swear I will not outlive you.”
He stood, bending down. His hair tumbled forward, as if reaching to touch her. “I apologize, Highness, but I have no choice but to carry you to safety. With or without your permission.”
Why is he calling me these strange names? As he reached for her, Eva saw another shard of glass sticking out of his arm. Blood drenched his shirt down to the cuff. His hand dripped red, but he seemed oblivious of the injury. Still dazed, she felt him reach under her shoulders and knees and pick her up as if she weighed nothing.
He was kidnapping her. “Stop!” she screamed. “Put me down! Help!” She twisted against his iron-hard grip and grabbed a coconut from an end display as they passed. Eva pounded it against his chest and face, but he didn’t even look at her as he strode through the carnage to the rear of the store, kicked open the warehouse doors, and jumped off the loading dock to the ground.
On the other side of the alley sat a sleek limousine with darkened windows. As they approached, a passenger door swung open. The man deposited her inside, wrested the coconut from her, and tossed it away. He climbed in opposite her and pulled the door shut, wincing at the reach. The limo began to roll.



About the Author:


Lloyd A. Meeker credits Walter de la Mare’s “The Listeners” as the first poem to steal both his heart and his imagination. That was in seventh grade, and he’s never been the same since. At university he devoured Lord of the Rings in a single weekend. Then came Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, and Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea. Fantasy became his home turf.

He’s led what can only be described as an eventful life, and he’s grateful for all of it. He’s been a minister, a pilot, a janitor, a drinker, a cancer survivor, and a software developer on his way to becoming a writer. His work includes five novels, two books of poetry, a few essays, and several short stories.

He’s happily entangled in a life-long love affair with metaphor and the potent mystery of the Hero’s Journey, especially in its metaphysical and psychological aspects. He lives in southern Florida among friends and family with his husband, working on his next novel, practicing subtle energy healing, reading, wallowing in classical music and celebrating a very active retirement.

Web and Blog: www.lloydmeeker.com




Rock Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Rock
J.A. Huss
Publication date: March 7th 2016
Genres: Rock Star Romantic Suspense
He had it all. He lost it all. And all he wants now is a second chance.

RK Saber ran from tragedy five years ago when his car went over the side of a mountain in a prom-night crash. Consumed by guilt, he walked away from Juilliard and morphed into Rock, front man for the global rock-band sensation, Son of a Jack. Five members. Five best friends. Five rising stars burning so bright, they had to know it couldn’t last.

When tragedy strikes again and the band goes from five to two, RK is sentenced to… home. Back to the place where all his nightmares started. Back to the memory of all the things he lost. Back to the reality he refused to face before he left.

The Vetti twins were identical in all ways but two. Melanie was insane and Melissa was not. One twin was killed on prom night five years ago and one twin was not. And now that RK has returned home, the twin left standing has quite a story to tell. Could she really be the girl he thought he’d lost forever? Or is Melanie just up to her same old tricks? 
ROCK is a rock-star romantic suspense by the New York Times bestselling master of twist, JA Huss.


TRAILER:



EXCERPT

“We’re not done, Melissa Vetti.”
“Not even close,” she says, winking at me as she pulls the door open to a waiting Gretchen.
“Oh, my God, you guys are disgusting. Who has sex in a break room?”
Missy giggles, then grabs my arm as if to cling to me. Her grin is wild and wide, her eyes are dancing as they look up at me, and when she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder for a brief moment, just as I open the back passenger door to Gretchen’s stupid hybrid car, I sigh.
It’s long and deep. But everything about it is good.
“Get in,” I tell Missy. She does, searching for her seatbelt as I close the door and walk over to the other side.
“You’re not sitting in back, RK,” Gretchen says.
“The fuck I’m not,” I mumble, getting in next to Missy. Her hands are all over me as Gretchen huffs about not being a chauffeur and some other bullshit that I can’t be bothered to listen to.
I put my arm around Miss and she leans into my chest. One hand tucked behind my back, one lifting my shirt up, a fraction at a time. And even though I just came inside her five minutes ago, I’m ready for more.
Gretchen talks the entire ride but I don’t understand a word she says. Melissa’s mouth is on mine, then biting my shoulder, then she’s scooting back and lowering her face to my stomach, still lifting my shirt up with that one hand.
When Gretchen stops in my driveway, Missy and I give off half-hearted waves as I push her up against the front door and stare down into her blue eyes. “You know what?” I slur the words just a little.
“What?” She laughs back.
I have so many thoughts in my head at the moment. About her, her music, the bar, this town. What it felt like to come home after five years. How alone I felt. What it felt like to go to her show tonight. To be included. Part of something again.
“I missed you,” I say.
“I missed you too.”
“No,” I say. “I mean I missed you.” I place my hands on each of her cheeks and bump my forehead against hers. “I missed how you started that band. I missed how you worked out those songs. I missed all the mistakes, and all the triumphs. I missed the stressing out over money. I missed the conversation you had to have with Teej to get a spot. I missed picking out the guitar you play, the strap, the picks. I missed you making a decision about what you’d wear on stage. I missed you squealing to whoever is your best friend these days about your first show. I missed the applause, I missed TJ’s proud face afterward, I missed the first blown amp, the first time someone said, Hey, are you the chick who plays at Float’s? I missed everything, Melissa Vetti, rock star. And I’m so fucking sorry. Because life would’ve been so much better if we’d done it together.”
She pouts her lips and nods her head. I can see a little gleam of light in her eyes as she tries not to cry. “I missed your life too.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It just would’ve been so much better if we’d done it together.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “We’re together now, RK. And that’s all that matters.”


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

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Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Witch of Cards Release Day Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Witch of the Cards
Catherine Stine

Genre: paranormal historical suspense

Publisher: Konjur Road Press

Date of Publication: March 16, 2016

ISBN 13: 978-0-9848282-6-5   
ISBN-10: 0-9848282-6-5

ISBN 13: 978-0-9848282-7-2 
ISBN 10: 0-9848282-7-3

Number of pages: 265

Word Count: 76K

Cover Artist: Mae I Designs

Book Description:

Fiera was born a sea witch with no inkling of her power. And now it might be too late.

Witch of the Cards is historical, supernatural romantic suspense set in 1932 on the Jersey shore. Twenty-two year-old Fiera has recently left the Brooklyn orphanage where she was raised, and works in Manhattan as a nanny. She gets a lucky break when her boss pays for her short vacation in Asbury Park. One evening, Fiera and her new friend Dulcie wander down the boardwalk and into Peter Dune’s Tarot & Séance, where they attend a card reading.

Fiera has always had an unsettling ability to know things before they happen and sense people’s hidden agendas. She longs to either find out the origin of her powers or else banish them because as is, they make her feel crazy. When, during the reading, her energies somehow bond with Peter Dune’s and form an undeniable ethereal force, a chain of revelations and dangerous events begin to unspool. For one, Fiera finds out she is a witch from a powerful sea clan, but that someone is out to stop her blossoming power forever. And though she is falling in love with Peter, he also has a secret side. He’s no card reader, but a private detective working to expose mediums. Despite this terrible betrayal, Fiera must make the choice to save Peter from a tragic Morro Cruise boat fire, or let him perish with his fellow investigators. Told in alternating viewpoints, we hear Fiera and Peter each struggle against their deep attraction. Secrets, lies, even murder, lace this dark fantasy.


Amazon     Amazon UK     Amazon CA     Amazon AU

iBooks      Kobo      BN      Scribd      Inktera


Excerpt

The absinthe put me in a dreamy state. Added to the mix was the sensual comfort of sitting next to Peter, who served as a buffer between Alyse and me.
Somewhere in the room, a chorus of faint voices floated around, high and sweet. Or was the sound merely in my head? How could it be? Peter asked me a question, but it took three repetitions for me to understand him over the low-slung jazz notes infused with the chorus of invisible soprano cherubs singing at me.
“Have you always had a talent for the unseen?” I heard him ask.
“Whatever do you mean? It was you who saw things that weren’t there.” I had to right myself because I found myself swooning so much I nearly fell into Peter’s lap.
“But it was you who eked it out of me.”
“Little old me?” I giggled.
“Yes, you,” Alyse agreed. “I was there, too. You have some strange talent. Can you describe how it works? You must be aware of it.”
Everything was turning light and frothy like a magical cake icing. The barkeep was chatting up the fellows at his counter, the card players exhaled in cheery gusts of laughter, and the waitresses flounced around like so many sunny meadow flowers. I didn’t see the harm. “I do sense things. Always have.”
“What kind of things?” Peter and Alyse asked in tandem. Their unexpected accord matched the soprano voices singing harmoniously in and around my head.
I giggled again. “Do you hear them?”
“Hear what?” Peter looked around, spooked.
“Children, little voices.”
Alyse’s brows creased. “What are they saying?”
“They’re singing.” But the entire mood of the room had changed in an instant. Their radiant energy soured. The children of the ether weren’t singing any more. They were starting to weep, over something very sad.
Over me.
How did I know this? No idea. A hard frost shot through my bones. I took a big gulp of the absinthe. Perhaps it would block out the voices, the wailing of innocents.
“What is it?” Peter took my hand. His concerned touch cut through the horrible, chilling ache and melted me. “What’s the matter, Fiera?” His face paled, and right then, I knew he heard them too. “They’re crying, aren’t they?” he whispered in my ear, tickling my soft lobe. “Crying over you.”
“Yes.” I leaned on him, letting the voices cry for me.
We hugged and I swear I felt his sudden, hot tears melt through the shoulder fabric of my dress. It was infinitely sad, infinitely tender.
The invisible cherubs whirring inside my head took translucent form and slipped out of me. They soared around the room like hardscrabble angels, flitting past Dulcie as she danced; sliding, their soft baby feet gliding over the long bar counter, and right through the man with the hookah. He glanced up for a moment as if he, too, felt the supernatural breeze. Then he bowed his head back down and took a pensive draw on his smoking device. Eyes closed, I saw green paisleys and floating leaves, the rushing of a cold stream bubbling under me, which filled me with terror. I came to with a gasp.
“What is it?” Alyse asked. How could I tell her of this suffering, shot through with spectacular floating objects, and my strange, sudden affinity with Mr. Dune?
“I see children weeping,” I admitted. “They’ve been hurt.”
“How?” Her voice grew anxious.
I silently asked them. “They’re babies. They can’t say.”
When I looked over at Peter, it was obvious he was in the same deep trance he’d been in when we first met. His eyes were glazed as if whatever he was experiencing was far from this basement speakeasy. “What is it? What do you see?” I whispered.
“They’re fading. They’re dying. They’re being—”
“Snap out of it, Mr. Dune.” Alyse gave him a stern shaking. “You’ve had too much absinthe.”
 “It’s not that!” I insisted.
“Then tell me what it is, Fiera,” she said.
“It’s a vision. Of something real from long ago.”
“How long ago?”
“As long ago as there is a long ago.” I sounded ridiculous. Alyse Bone was right. The absinthe was crazy making. Or was it the taffy? I leaned into Peter’s limp shoulder, reached over and shook him, too, but with more patience than Alyse had.
His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at me with that same calm as when he awoke after the séance. As before, his expression was clear of emotion, blissfully unaware of what he’d whispered to me minutes ago.
“Well, there you are,” he slurred. “You look positively ravishing. Dance?”
“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” I bumbled to my feet.
“You two really drank the coffin varnish.” Alyse gave an unbecoming snort as she rose and drifted away.
Perhaps I was too far-gone, but I didn’t care. Peter and I danced and danced. The speakeasy filled with the overflow from the convention hall dance—young lovers, bootleggers with wide ties and cigars, older women with twinkling earrings and heavy bosoms, even a prostitute or two. They wore too much rouge and sat brazenly up at the bar with the gin rummies.
This time, I couldn’t say whether I stepped on Mr. Dune’s polished wingtips. He probably couldn’t be sure if he knocked his bony legs into mine. We had more nips of absinthe, and I wolfed down another green-swirl taffy. Before I knew it, I was leaning provocatively against Peter and laughing like a wild banshee.
I remember gaping up at him to see his black hair all disheveled and him indistinctly mumbling. And thinking that he was the most gorgeous human being I’d ever seen. I remember Peter and I howling at the crescent moon over the ocean, and the shocked sideways glance of the hotel proprietor as we stumbled in.
I recall pulling out the Tarot, and laying them out on my rug. I recall babbling at him—about a witch and a swindler and a boat. I can still picture his expression of shocked surprise.
And I remember Peter’s lips branding my forehead—how could I ever forget that—while shocks of his lush black hair dangled deliciously on my burning cheeks. The last thing I recall before things went dark was kicking off my shoes.



About the Author:

Catherine Stine’s novels span the range from futuristic to supernatural to contemporary. Her YA sci-fi thrillers Fireseed One and Ruby’s Fire are Amazon bestsellers and indie award winners. Her YA, Dorianna won Best Horror Book in the Kindle Hub Awards. Heart in a Box, her contemporary YA was an Amazon Hot New Release in Teen and Alternative Family for over eight weeks. She also writes romance as Kitsy Clare. Her Art of Love series includes Model Position and Private Internship. Book three, Girl and the Gamer, launches this summer. She suspects her love of dark fantasy came from her father reading Edgar Allen Poe to her as a child, and her love of contemporary fiction comes from being a jubilant realist. To unwind she loves to watch “bad” reality TV and travel to offbeat places.

Catherine’s website: http://catherinestine.com/wp/







Burning Ultimatum Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Burning Ultimatum
Aubrey Parker
(Trevor’s Harem, #4)
Publication date: March 15th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance


With Trevor’s contest at its end, it’d be easy to say we’re three against one. And yet I’ve never felt so alone.

My heart is torn, twisted, ripped. I’m alternately hot and cold. I dream vivid dreams, no longer sure if they’re fantasy or reality.

There’s a new player in the game. He’s tall, broad, beautiful, and intimidating. Everyone is afraid of him, even the company. I’m told he has a secret, and that I’m its subject. And someone else has a secret, too — from our mystery man, and god help us if he learns it.

Everyone is loyal to something or someone in this place — though it’s seldom what it seems.

I don’t know who’s with me and who’s against me — if I’ll go home with my new protector … or be kept here forever.

I couldn’t possibly be what Eros has combed the world for … can I?




EXCERPT

Trevor puts his hand on my arm, but I shake it away. I’m so frustrated. So angry. Trevor acts like my friend, but he cut Kat. I have no friends.
“Bridget, there was no choice. Keeping her wouldn’t have been fair to Kat. And it would have contradicted the purpose of everything we’re trying to do.”
I look back at him. I stand. My eyes are wet with fury, but I’m wearing an angry smile.
“What?” he says.
“They got you. They got all of you.”
“Who?”
“Kylie. Kat was a threat to her. Do you know about her and Caspian White?”
“No. What do you mean?”
“I guess we’ll never know, will we? I could tell you. I could even tell Caspian. But something tells me it won’t ring true without Kat to back me up. Something tells me convenient lies and excuses have already been put in place. She’s always ten steps ahead, isn’t she? After all, that’s her fucking superpower, isn’t it?”
“Bridget, what are you talking about?”
“And Jessica. Because second place wasn’t good enough for her. She wants to win it all. Is that what Kylie promised her? That she could come in first place once Kat was gone?” I give a cynical little smile. “I guess we’ll see what Kylie’s promises are worth with a knife in Jessica’s back.”
“You’re making too much of this. Once I learned Kat’s situation, I took care of it. It was just me. Nobody else — not Kylie, not Jessica.”
Then it hits me. My hand goes over my mouth, and I actually laugh.
“Oh my God,” I say.
“What?”
“They’re playing you, too.”
“Nobody’s playing me.”
I sit back down. I can’t help myself. I grab Trevor by the upper arms and look him right in his sweet, almost innocent eyes.
“This is about you, Trevor. Not me, not the contest, not the company. You. Kat was eliminated because you never had a choice. She backed you into it.”
“Who?” He’s getting annoyed, his face twisting.
“This whole thing is on you. It’s your name. Your company. Everything is being done for Trevor Stone.”
“So?”
“So if it fails? If it goes horribly wrong? If someone can convince some other people that certain big-name billionaires should be squeezed out?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
But I’m not. I see it clear as day.
Trevor stands, brushing off with an air of finality, as if these last thirty seconds have made him sorry for coming to see me.
“Trevor … ”
He meets my eyes with a hard stare — no matter what I say next, our discussion is over.
“I came here because I care about you, Bridget. That hasn’t changed.”
I don’t know what else to do, so as my shoulders sag, I nod.
“Are you leaving today?”
That was the plan, yes. But now I’m not so sure. If I leave, it’ll just be Jessica, Kylie, and Daniel versus Trevor. The three against one that’s also leveled against me. But I could stick around. I could keep being a wrench in the machine. The one question that nobody, no matter how honest they are, will answer is the biggest of all: Why am I still here? I survived the first elimination after refusing to play by the rules. I survived the second and third without blinking. And if Trevor is to be believed, I survived a sex-first challenge by being nonsexual while the sluttiest slut got the axe. All by following my gut and doing nothing special. All, it seems, without help of any meaningful kind.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Same reason as before.”
“Which is?”
“Caspian White.”
“Why, Trevor?”
“Because he likes you.”
“Then I should have no problems.”
Trevor doesn’t respond. He looks somehow punched, but I can tell he feels that affection, from Caspian White, probably isn’t a good thing.
“I’ll be fine, Trevor. Thank you for your concern, but I’ve made it this far, even without a superpower.”
I try to smile at the idea of superpowers, but Trevor stops, on his way to my door, and takes my hand.
“Daniel didn’t tell you,” he says.
“Tell me what?”
“At least on paper, he’s named a talent for you. To our board. And to Mr. White.”
I blink back up at Trevor.
“He’s been telling people that he’s figured out my superpower?”
“Yes. And going to face Caspian White, that’s what scares me.”
“What is it?”
“Technically it’s restraint, no doubt piggybacking on what the cameras saw between you in the garden, when you resisted his triggers.” Trevor purses his lips. “But Caspian has chosen to interpret your unflappability differently, if not quite literally.”
My heart beats faster. Maybe Trevor is right after all, and I should leave while I still can.
“‘Purity,’” Trevor says. “As if you were a virgin, waiting to be defiled.”

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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Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Rock Your Heart Out blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Rock Your Heart Out
Crystal Kaswell
(Sinful Serenade #3)
Publication date: March 10th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
There’s a naked rockstar in my hotel room.
And he’s pierced.
 
Willow Denton needs to get out of town fast. Her only option is joining her brother’s band on tour. Ten weeks with misbehaved men doesn’t sound so bad. Until she walks in on the drummer naked and sporting a spanking new piercing. There’s no way the player rock star will ever think of her as more than his BFF’s little sister. Better to focus on her photography. As soon as she stops thinking about him in her bed, against the wall, in the backseat of his car…

Sinful Serenade drummer Tom Steele is a wrecking ball. Bossy. Pushy. Hot as the molten center of the Earth. He’s not afraid to use his body or his fame to get what he wants– a different girl every night of the week (and three on Sunday). The man may be a whore but he can control himself. He’s going to keep an eye on Willow, be her friend. That’s it.

Their sizzling sexual chemistry makes this whole platonic things hard.

But there’s no way he’ll cross the line with the girl he’s supposed to protect.

Only $2.99 for a limited time!

Previous books in the series:
26874014 27847598

EXCERPT

A knock on the door disrupts my already unsteady hand. Shit. That’s a mess. “Just a minute.” I wipe my eyeliner clean with a wet tissue and answer the door.
Tom looks me over. He copies the tone I used earlier. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
“Is there something wrong with it?”
“It’s 90s night. You need color. Come on.” He steps into the room and crouches over the suitcase, pawing through my stuff. He tosses a navy mini skirt and a pink crop top on the bed. “That will be better.”
That will certainly be less. The top is minuscule and the skirt is barely long enough to cover my ass. “I don’t think so.”
“Try it.”
I shake my head.
He reaches for the bottom of my dress. “Don’t force me to remove your clothes.”
My heartbeat picks up.
“You have five seconds. Four.” He looks me in the eyes, daring me. “Three.”
I step backwards. “Okay. I’ll try it. Wait in the bathroom.”
“As you wish.” He does as he’s asked.
The room feels different without his presence. Colder. Less inviting. I change into the skimpy outfit as quickly as possible.
“Okay. You can come back.” I press my hands over my stomach as I check my reflection. I can’t wear this. It’s nothing.
Tom looks me up and down. All that smugness falls of his face. His eyes go wide. His lips part. “That’s no good.” He pulls my hands to my sides, his fingers brushing my exposed skin.
“Why?”
Tom traces the exposed skin on my side, from the top of my skirt to the bottom of my crop top. “Just change back.”
“Why.”
His cheeks flush. “It’s too sexy.”
He’s nervous.
“Change. Now.” He shifts towards the bathroom, his body brushing against mine.
He’s still close. Still warm. I reach for him, get the back pocket of his jeans. I need to say something. That I can be sexy if I want. That it doesn’t matter what Tom thinks.
Only it does. I want him to think I’m sexy.
“Tom.” My hand brushes against his hip. “I… I want to look sexy. You do. You always look desirable. Why can’t I do the same?”
I go to step back into some bold, confident pose, but my foot catches on the bedspread. Shit. I slip and fall backwards. My ass hits the bed. Then slides down to the floor. Bam. I’m on my back, my legs spread. I press my hands into the ground to push myself up.
Tom’s gaze passes over me. It stops between my legs.
“Uh…” His eyes cloud with desire.
He watches me with rapt attention as I rise to my feet. At my thighs, my hips, my stomach. By the time he works his way to my eyes, I’m buzzing like a power line.
Touch me, please.
Throw me on that bed.
Kiss me.
Something.

Author Bio: 
Crystal Kaswell writes steamy new adult and erotic romance books. She loves when flawed characters fall head over heels for each other. Especially if they fall into bed first. She loves police procedurals, tea, and The Hunger Games series. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband.






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