Saturday, August 13, 2016

Piece by Piece Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Piece by Piece
Kelly Moore
(Broken Pieces #3)
Publication date: July 16th 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance


After losing his leg when his plane crashed during the war, Steel closed himself off from everyone. He secluded himself in his fortress and was happy being a loner until his captain from the Air Force hires him for a rescue mission of a girl Steel once loved. He left her behind for his love of planes and now she is in trouble. Will Steel risk his way of life to help her and expose his greatest fear?

Adyson was once a sweet innocent girl in love with a man who chose a different way of life. Heartbroken, she seeks out someone that is nothing like Steel. She marries a man that becomes her worst nightmare. Now being hunted in the jungles of Guatemala by drug lords, she needs a way out.

She is stunned when Steel shows up as her rescuer. Their old heat reignites for one another. His insecurities hold him back, but he craves her like no one else. Her secrets may very well kill them both. The question becomes who rescues whom?


Previous books in the series:
27038539 29477447


EXCERPT

I place my hand on Steel’s thigh. “What’s the next part of the plan?”
“If your hand stays where it is, my plan is to rock this hummer.” He laughs
“He can hear you,” I whisper
“This is military grade. Soundproof.” He slides his hand between my legs. “He can’t see us either.” He winks at me.
I climb on his lap and straddle him. “Good, I want to have my way with you before all hell breaks loose.”
“I like the way you think.” He starts unbuttoning my blouse and kissing down my throat. He shreds my panties in seconds.
“You don’t ever need these when you are with me.” He kisses that spot just below my ear that starts my wetness flowing. He pulls me closer.
“I will never be close enough to you,” I whisper in his ear.
“Tell me what you want baby.” He licks at my lips.
“I want an extraordinary lover.”
“I want sleepless nights with a storm of passion.”
“I want to be intoxicated by the sight of you.”
“I want endless conversations.”
“I want to feel my body shiver at your touch and I want the world to disappear when we are together.”
“But mostly, I want all your shades of blue.”
I get so lost in him that I really don’t care that there is someone sitting in the same vehicle with us.
He moans into my mouth and roughly finishes pulling my clothes off.

Author Bio:
Kelly Moore was raised in Mt. Dora, Florida, a true southern girl with a sarcastic wit. Gypsy traveling nurse by day and romantic author by night. Loves all things romantic with a little spice and humor. Loves two characters who over comes their pasts to fall in love and have a happy ending. Wife, mother, grandmother and dog lover. Travels the US in a fifth wheel making memories and making friends. 

XBTBanner1

Friday, August 12, 2016

Beautifully Broken Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Beautifully Broken
Samantha Sommersby

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: All Romance eBooks

Date of Publication:  August 1 2016

ISBN: 978-1-945193-44-6

Word Count: 49000

Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill      

Book Description:

She was broken by darkness and violence...

Jennifer Jones thought she’d left her past behind, but when Maclain Moore crosses her threshold it all comes rushing back. He was to be her roommate, nothing more. Then the leather-clad bad boy reveals something that rocks the very foundation of her structured, fiercely independent life, and the protective wall Jennifer built around herself is shattered.

He had faith in a beautiful future…

Although she vowed she’d never bare her soul or share her secrets, soon Jennifer finds herself opening up to Mac in ways that make it hard to keep him at arm's length. She almost lost her life to a man before and doesn’t want to risk getting close to this one. As Jennifer’s world spins out of control, she fears their growing passion may become the only tangible thing she can cling to. Can she give in to her feelings for Mac without losing herself?

ARe    Amazon     Kobo    iTunes


Excerpt

Mac grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, then headed back toward his room. “No, I would forego napkins altogether and have the guests all wipe their mouths on their shirtsleeves, like I do.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
He turned around. “Do they really make napkins with recycled content?”
“We’re not buying them.”
“Why not?” he shouted.
She followed him to his room, pausing at the entrance. “They’re yucky looking and they cost more.” She leaned against the doorframe.
He sat his beer on his nightstand before climbing back on the bed. “But they’re better for the environment. Don’t you care about your carbon footprint?” Mac opened a case file and began to read.
“Of course I do.” She held up her water bottle. “I’m recycling, aren’t I?”
“But still buying all those individual little water bottles. Baby steps.”
Jennifer took a minute to look around. The room had been totally transformed in the last two days. Initially it had contained just the dark walnut antique four-poster bed and dresser surrounded by white walls. The first change had been those walls. When Jennifer came home from Rachel and Tom’s on New Year’s Day, she discovered Mac had painted them red. Red.
“You painted the walls red?” she’d asked.
“No. It’s not red. The guy at the paint store said it’s called ‘Rendezvous’.”
“Right, rendezvous!” She laughed and shook her head. “Did he give you a discount?”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s a bit…red.”
“I think it makes a statement.”
“What kind of a statement?’
“Trust me, I’ve got a vision. It’s going to be great,” he replied, not deterred in the least.
And he was right. After he painted the walls the rich wine color, he had stenciled on the Chinese symbols for peace, love and faith. He’d also positioned a three-by-five jewel-toned oriental rug between the antique dresser and the footboard of the bed. The richness of the colors complemented the dark wooden shades of the hardwood flooring and walnut furnishings. There was even a large tray of sorts resting on top of the dresser that Mac had fashioned out of an old portrait frame and filled with pillar candles.
“You coming in?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. If it’s all right.”
“Of course, have a seat.”
Jennifer walked around the bed en route to the chair. The bed itself took up most of the room. He’d adorned it with a black chenille duvet cover, trimmed in red Chinese silk not unlike the material her robe was made from. There was a new piece of furniture. He had placed it so it sat between his bedside and the black leather chair he had retrieved from storage and was using it as a combination nightstand and side table. In addition to a clock and his beer, the table held a lamp, about four or five books, and a pair of reading glasses.
“New table and lamp,” she observed, sliding into the chair.
“Found the table this morning over on Adams in one of those little antique stores.” He continued to flip through his case file, scanning the contents.
The overhead light in the room was turned off. The only light came from the candles and the bedside lamp. The room with filled with a warm glow, and interesting shadows danced across the dramatic walls as the flames of the candles flickered.
“Did you have the lamp already?”
“Yeah, I’ve had it for a while.”
“I should let you work.” She started to get up.
He tossed the file aside. “No. I need to stop.” He tilted his head toward the lamp. “I bought it in a store up in L.A., in Chinatown. I don’t remember why I was there, probably killing time. My mum was sick. I was practically living at the hospital. I bought it for her. Everything in that room was so cold, so sterile.”
“I bet she loved it.”
Mac nodded. “We’d sit there together and stare at it. I don’t know what it is. Maybe the way the light gets diffused as it passes through the flax paper but it seems—”
“Warm. Peaceful.”
“Yeah.” Mac sighed.
Jennifer leaned back in the chair, kicked off her shoes, and propped her feet up on the edge of his bed. “The place looks great. It feels nice.”
“You look like you’re ready for a nap.”
“Maybe a hot bath.” She closed her eyes. “How do you feel about take-out Chinese for tonight?”
“Can’t join you tonight, blondie.” Mac got up, then drained the rest of the beer. “I’ve got a date,” he told her, setting the bottle back on his nightstand.
Jennifer’s eyes flew open. She quickly sized up his appearance. “You do not have a date.”
Mac pulled his leather coat out of the closet. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re not even dressed.”
Mac looked down at his obviously clothed body. “Of course I’m dressed. What are you talking about?” He picked his keys and billfold up off of the dresser.
“You’re not dressed up. You know, so you can make a good first impression.”
“It’s supposed to be casual, pizza and a movie. This is what I normally wear.” Mac stuffed his billfold into the pocket of his jeans.
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make a little extra effort. You know, put your best foot forward.” Jennifer stood and stretched. “Did you even shower?”
“Course I did! I showered this morning when I came back from my run.”
“That was for work. I meant for your date.”
“Let me guess.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re one of these girls who puts on airs, trying to impress so you can reel some unsuspecting bloke in. When, may I ask, are you supposed to start to show your date the real you?”
“You think your date is going to let you see the real her?”
“Don’t know. The truth is I have no control over what she’s going to do. What I do know is if I like what I see and she’s willing to go out with me again it’ll be because she saw something in me she liked. I won’t have to be guessing about whether what she liked about me was the fa├žade.” Mac walked back over toward her and retrieved his empty beer bottle. “Recyclable.”
“You know what I think? I think you’re being a teensy bit disingenuous.”
“How so?”
She gestured toward him. “This is all part of an image.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The black boots, leather coat, rumpled T-shirt that screams ‘I’m a bad boy’
when—”
Mac wrapped the arm holding the beer bottle around her waist and in one fluid motion pulled her body flush against his before bending her backward in a low dip. “You don’t think I can be bad?”
Jennifer’s breath hitched.
“Little girl, you have no idea,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, his voice low and seductive. Then he nuzzled her at her neck, breathing her in. “We’re all just a little bit bad.”
“You mean, what you’ve shown me? This great, sensitive guy I’ve been getting to know isn’t the real you?” She was slightly breathless.
Mac lifted his head and looked searchingly into her eyes. He was so close. He smelled so good. He felt so good. Her entire body tightened in anticipation.
“We all have a dark side,” he murmured. “A part lurking within us, longing to live for the moment, to act on wild impulses, to give in to temptation.” Mac licked his lips. She could practically taste them. “Don’t you ever feel that?”
Jennifer’s heart was racing and her mouth was dry. It was as if time had suddenly stopped. As she gazed into his impossibly blue eyes, she realized this was one of those defining moments. One of those times when, with a single action, you could change the course of your life. If only you were willing to take the chance.
“Mac… I…”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to be late for your date.”
“Right.” He straightened, bringing her back to an upright position. “I hate to keep a beautiful girl waiting.”
“You should go. Have fun.”
“Right now, I’m sorry I agreed to it.” Mac reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d much rather stay here and order Chinese with you.” Then he turned around and left her. Alone.


About the Author:

Samantha Sommersby left what she used to call her “real life” day job in 2007 to pursue writing full-time. Sam’s background in the psychiatric field is apparent in her work and allows her to bring a unique perspective to her characters and stories. She currently lives in southern California with her husband, son, and cocker spaniel, Buck.

Her husband is a social worker who works with abused children. He’s an avid sailor who loves to surf, and you’ll find bits of him in every hero that Sam has ever written. Her son is wonderfully sensitive, with a sarcastic sense of humor. He plays the piano, composes his own music, is a competitive fencer, and worships video games. On the rare occasion when Sam manages to set aside some play time for herself, you’ll most likely find her reading a book, at the movies, or out wine tasting.

Although she’s written a variety of genres, Sam happily spends most work days immersed in the world of the Forbidden, a world where vampires, werewolves, and demons are real, where magic is possible, and where love still conquers all.




This is Me Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


This is Me.
C.E. Wilson
Publication date: August 11th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Science Fiction


A-SIST

Anthropomorphic Sentient Individualized Servile uniT

Rogan is a robot. More specifically, he is an Asist – a personalized humanoid servant that provides protection, assistance, and companionship for a lonely young woman living on her own in the city. Chloe is trying to get her big break, singing at bars and clubs all over the city at night while she pays the bills as a substitute teacher during the day. Ever since she activated him many months ago, Rogan has been her beautiful, dependable, obedient, dead-eyed security blanket.

One morning she is shocked when he disobeys a direct command in an attempt to please her and his dull artificial eyes flash a hint of something new. Is this the result of the adaptive Asist servility programming or is Rogan actually thinking? Can a robot think? Can a robot feel?

As Chloe struggles with these thoughts she is blindsided by the singular Niven Adams, a handsome, confident man with the voice of an angel who is everything she’s ever wanted in a boyfriend. He’s the perfect guy for her, except for one problem. Niven doesn’t approve of Asists and takes an immediate dislike to Rogan. As Niven charms his way deeper and deeper into Chloe’s heart, Rogan tries to convince her that he is more than a mass-produced disposable servant.

With Rogan doing everything in his power to prove that his thoughts and feelings are real and Niven trying to persuade her to abandon her robot and have a normal human relationship, Chloe is trapped between the two things that mean the most to her. Does she embrace her relationship with the blond newcomer, or face that her Asist’s feelings may be more than features of his programming?

What really makes a person a person?

Is it a ticking muscle inside their chest, or is it something more?


This is Me teaser 9

This is Me teaser 1

Author Bio:
C.E. Wilson is 32 years old, grew up in Millersville, Pennsylvania, and has been living in Pittsburgh since 2009. For the first few years living in Pittsburgh, she was an English teacher. Her first book, "Oath of Servitude," was published in 2012. In 2013, she quit teaching to be a full time author and hasn't looked back since. She loves spending time with her daughter and husband. 

XBTBanner1

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Sacred Legacy Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Sacred Legacy
The Branded Trilogy
Book 3
Kat Flannery

Genre: Historical western paranormal romance

Publisher: Imajin Books

Date of Publication: July 31, 2016

Number of pages: 175
Word Count: 72,000

Cover Artist: Ryan Thomas Doan

Book Description:

Tsura is a Chuvani, and with that comes great power…

Desperate to escape the memories that haunt her, Tsura Harris returns to Jamestown, the very place her mother forbade her to go. A gifted Chuvani, Tsura has sworn off all magick, thus making her vulnerable to the Renoldi clan, who wish to kill her and take the pendant that is the key to her power.

Red Wolf is hell-bent on living his life on the sea, until he runs into Tsura on the docks. His pride wounded from her rejection years before, he hoped to never see her again. But when the evil Corsair, Romulus Black, demands to know where she is, Red Wolf must protect her, as is his duty.

But is duty and honor his only reason, or does Red Wolf still carry a flame of love in his heart? And will Tsura finally discover her destiny?

Amazon     Amazon.co.uk     Amazon.ca





CHAPTER ONE SACRED LEGACY

Jamestown, Virginia, July 1740

Tsura Harris lifted the hem of her green skirt and stepped up onto the wooden plank. She clutched her reticule in her right hand and reached for the rope with her left. The planked bridge swayed as the boat rocked against the seas. She stared at the water below. White-capped waves crashed along the ship’s hull, rocking the boat. She inhaled, forced her chin up, and took another step. She walked the short distance to the boardwalk, releasing the breath she’d held when her boot touched land. She planted both feet upon the wooden dock and set her shoulders, but the reminder of why she was here intensified the weight upon her chest. Despair was her shadow, and it was with her today.
“Sister!”
Her brother’s deep, masculine shout came from above.
She shaded her eyes from the hot afternoon sun and peered up at him. His stature always shocked her. Micah Walker was six foot with broad shoulders and strong arms, a spitting image of their father, Kade. His white shirt gaped open to show the tanned skin beneath, a sign of too many days out on the water. Long blond hair waved in the breeze. Her handsome brother had his pick of the ladies, but still hadn’t settled down. It was a shame. She knew he wanted children and a wife of his own, but his heart belonged to the sea and time would lend him those favors only when he was ready.
“You must wait,” he called and raced past his men carrying crates of goods onto the wharf.
She placed her bag onto the wooden walk and clasped her gloved hands together.
He reached her, his cheeks glowing and dark eyes lit with mischief. Before she could discourage him, he picked her up and swung her around. Her boots kicked the bag, knocking it over, as his strong arms held her tight.
Micah had always been affectionate. He never shied away from holding her hand, kissing her cheek, or teasing her like a brother would. He’d come to her side when she needed him the most. When her life had fallen apart, and she couldn’t see past her own misery to pick herself up. He had carried her, and she loved him for it.
“You cannot go off without wishing me well.” He smiled down at her.
“If you would simply release me, I’d be able to make it so,” she retorted. He was the only one, aside from her mother and father, who she allowed to touch her.
“Very well, nit.” He set her in front of him. The nickname he used for her was one of endearment and came from her pestering him as a child.
“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt before bringing her eyes to meet his.
“You do not need to do this.”
She glanced away unable to stare at him any longer.
“Come sail with me.”
She shook her head. The urge to leave caused her legs to shake. She couldn’t be around him any longer. His cheerful disposition haunted her and made her think of things she’d rather forget.
“I know you don’t want to speak of this, but—”
“No, Micah.”
“Tsura, you need to forgive—”
“Forgiveness is not within my heart.”
“It surely is.”
She shook her head, careful not to release the many pins holding her thick corkscrew curls in a loose chignon.
“It is in all of us.”
She glared at her brother.
“Do not speak to me of forgiveness, brother. My heart is cold to it.”
His dark eyes watered, and she knew her words had hurt him, but she didn’t care. It was better this way—it was easier.
“Will you not reconsider?”
 “No.”
“Please stay. I will protect you.”
Protection was not what she needed. She could care less if she died. It’d be a relief from the constant pain she felt each day.
“I should’ve taken you to mother and father.”
“Do not speak to them of my presence here.”
“They will understand.”
“Not one word.”
Micah sighed. “As you wish.”
“I must go.” Anger pressed on her spine, and she straightened.
His shoulders dropped.
“Be safe. Trust no one.”
She nodded.
“I port back in Jamestown one month to this day. You will be here.”
It was not a question, and she didn’t know if a month would be enough. Would the time between then and now ever fade from her soul? Would she be ready to return? She didn’t know if she could go back and so she didn’t answer.
“Hiram knows of you coming?”
“He does.”
“Very well.” He straightened and smiled. “Know that I love you.”
She fought the tears. If Micah saw one ounce of sadness within her, he’d throw her back aboard the Jade and take her with him.
“As I you.” She refused to say the words.
He picked up her bag and handed it to her.
“Thank you. Now go. You have work to do and whores to see.” She smirked.
“Ah, that I do.” He pulled her into a final embrace. “You will find your way. I am sure of it.” He held her away from him, and his eyes searched hers. “Remember who you are.”
She pressed on his chest and stepped out of his embrace. She couldn’t help the furrow of her brow or the set of her chin. The reminders of the life she led were never to be forgotten, and because of that she’d be forever lost.
Micah sensed the change in her and left it alone. He bowed, and with a final kiss to her forehead he walked away.
She turned, unable to watch him go, raised to believe it was a sign of weakness, of regret to watch one leave your life. This was meant to be. The world around her had tilted, and even though she wanted nothing more than to go back in time to the lavish house on the hill where she’d felt content, where laughter was but an expression upon her lips, she could not. What had been was no more, and she’d do right to remember it. One year had passed, but the ache inside her soul still remained



About the Author:

Kat Flannery’s love of history shows in her novels. She is an avid reader of historical, suspense, paranormal, and romance. She has her Certificate in Freelance and Business Writing. A member of many writing groups, Kat enjoys promoting other authors on her blog. She’s been published in numerous periodicals throughout her career.

Her debut novel CHASING CLOVERS has been an Amazon Top 100 Paid bestseller. LAKOTA HONOR and BLOOD CURSE (Branded Trilogy) are Kat’s two award-winning novels and HAZARDOUS UNIONS is Kat’s first novella. Kat is currently hard at work on her next book.







Bound By Duty Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Bound by Duty
Stormy Smith
(Bound #1)
Publication date: July 24th 2014
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult


Amelia grew up in a world of half-truths. She knows she’s an Elder but has no idea what that means. Her father reminds her daily that she must maintain control but he refuses to explain why. Even worse, she’s betrothed to the prince of the Immortals and she doesn’t even know his name.

Finally breaking free to live a few normal years at a community college, the last thing Amelia expects is to find her best friend in a cheeky Southern girl and to fall for a self-assured human who sees her for who she is and not what she’ll be.

As she learns more about herself, Amelia realizes the line between love and duty is a thin one. As her power continues to increase exponentially and her questions are slowly answered, Amelia must make the ultimate choice. The question is, will her head or her heart win the battle?

Grab your copy for FREE today!


EXCERPT

To set the stage, this scene features Amelia and Aidan. They are just getting to know each other and both have pasts that have irrevocably changed the people they have become. There are secrets and fears that have been buried their whole lives. The question is if they can trust each other?
Without looking back at me, he squeezed my hand tightly. His fingers pressing hard into the divots between the bones in my hand. He clutched at my hand as if I could keep him here, pull him away from the memories that overwhelmed him, that threatened to pull him down into a place I could feel he didn’t want to go.
“You can tell me, but only if you want to.” I put the words between us and let the silence follow. Turning back to stare at the sky, I gave him time to decide. I had no idea what he had been through, what he would say, but I understood what the darkness of truth could do to you if you let it.
“I don’t know why, but I want to tell you, Amelia. It’s insane because I never tell anyone this stuff. But, I want to tell you. Before this goes any further, I want you to know who I am.” He still wasn’t looking at me so while I saw him in my peripheral, I kept my gaze on the clouds. “Then, tell me,” I said. Taking a deep breath, I finished with a surprising, “Tell me and I’ll tell you.”
The longer Aidan held my hand, the more I got used to the feel of my nerves being raw and the increased sensations that vibrated from our point of contact throughout the rest of my body. As I lay there, waiting for him to speak, he kept our hands locked, sliding his middle finger up and down in a slow rhythm over the back of my hand. I could feel callouses on his palm and the heat he radiated. It was soothing and, for once, I was truly in control, at least as far as my power was concerned. My heartbeat, however, raced triple time as I had time to realize that I was laying on the forest floor holding hands with Aidan Montgomery, waiting for him to unlock doors I hadn’t known I wanted inside of. Someone I could give some of my truth to and who wanted to give me theirs in return.


BBD Teaser 2

Author Bio:
Stormy Smith calls Iowa's capital home now, but was raised in a tiny town in the Southeast corner of the state. She grew to love books honestly, having a mom that read voraciously and instilled that same love in her. She knew quickly that stories of fantasy were her favorite, and even as an adult gravitates toward paranormal stories in any form.
Writing a book had never been an aspiration, but suddenly the story was there and couldn't be stopped. When she isn't working on, or thinking about, her books, Stormy's favorite places include bar patios, live music shows, her yoga mat or anywhere she can relax with her husband or girlfriends.
If you want to stay tuned in to all of the new release news, sign up for Stormy's spam-free newsletter. It only comes out when something exciting is happening...promise! http://eepurl.com/WLlq1
Get more information on her website - www.stormysmith.com. 

XBTBanner1

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Coven Enforcers Series Tour & Excerpts!

Blood and Magic
Coven Enforcers
Book One
Ann Gimpel

Dream Shadow Press
63K words

Release Date: 7/18/16

Genre: Historical paranormal romance with a steampunk edge

Coven Enforcers = Dark, Dangerous, Magical Men

Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.

Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....

Book Description:

Magic didn’t just find Luke Caulfield. It chased him down, bludgeoned him, and has been dogging him ever since. Some lessons are harder than others, but Luke embraces danger, upping the ante to give it one better. An enforcer for the Coven, a large, established group of witches, his latest assignment is playing bodyguard to the daughter of Coven leaders.

Abigail Ruskin is chaperoning a spoiled twelve-year-old from New York to her parents’ home in Utah Territory when Luke gets on their stagecoach in Colorado. A powerful witch herself, Abigail senses Luke’s magic, but has no idea what he’s doing on her stagecoach. Stuck between the petulant child and Luke’s raw sexual energy, Abigail can’t wait for the trip to end.

Unpleasant truths surface about the child. While Abigail’s struggling with those, wraiths, wolves, and dark mages launch an attack. Luke’s so attracted to Abigail, she’s almost all he can think about, but he’s leery too. The child is just plain evil. Is Abigail in league with her? It might explain the odd attack that took out their driver and one of their horses. In over his head, he summons enforcer backup.
Will they help him save the woman he’s falling in love with, or demand her immediate execution?

Amazon    BN    iBooks    Google Play    ARe    Author’s Store


Excerpt 

Blood and Magic:

…Cursing her long skirts and cumbersome petticoats, Abigail used magic to skip the coach steps. Power blazed from her hands before she could see what she was aiming at. She was afraid if she took even a few seconds to hunt for a target, something would get her. Being dead wasn’t desirable, but it was better than the other things wraiths could do to her. Those turned her blood to ice chips.
With her booted feet planted firmly on the ground, Abigail finally got a good look at the wraiths. She drew magic from deep in the earth and sent it chasing after them when they jumped sideways to evade her magic. Insubstantial as tall, thin puffs of smoke, they had glowing charcoal eyes. Long, blood red claws graced what passed for hands. Binding their victims with fiery strands was a favorite trick—just before they sucked your soul right out of you, leaving a handy vessel for one of their masters to occupy. Wraiths used to feed only on the living, making them into new wraiths. They’d been bad enough then, but now they functioned as hired thugs for practitioners of the Black Arts. It lent them the ability to operate in broad daylight. Abigail wondered which group of sorcerers this crew worked for. The Alchemical Council? Black Magick?
Good God but there were a lot of them. Why? Surely they weren’t interested in the contents of the coach, which only carried mail and Carolyn’s substantial luggage. Ducking and spinning to escape being entwined in a blazing net, she thought about the girl’s steamer trunks. Abigail only helped pack two of them. The third had been locked and ready to go. Could that possibly be what the wraiths were after?
She shut off her thoughts so she could focus. The ragged sound of her own panting thrummed loud in her ears as she chucked one killing blow after another. Bolts of blue-white light flared from both hands. No point in running anything less than wide open. For each wraith she obliterated, three more showed up to take its place. Her chest ached from breathing sooty air and wraith stench.
Heat seared her back. Damnation! Her skirts were on fire. Abigail funneled magic behind her to quell the flames, but it didn’t work. Smoke stung her nostrils. Fire had already eaten a long gouge in one of her hands. If she dropped to the ground to deal with her burning clothes, the wraiths would pounce. Terror licked at her along with the flames.
In spite of her brave thoughts earlier, she didn’t want to die. Not here. And not like this. She cursed her corset. It was hard to get a decent breath. If she’d known she was going to have to fight—
“Keep after ’em,” Luke growled from behind her. “I have your dress under control.” She felt him drape something heavy around her shoulders—a lap robe he must’ve snatched from inside the coach—and press it close against her with his body. Gratitude wrapped warm tentacles around her. Having him right next to her made her already pounding heart do flip-flops, but she forced herself to focus on something other than all those rock-hard muscles jammed against her back.
“Are they all on this side of the coach?” she wheezed, still struggling to breathe. Between the smoke, her stays, and Luke’s body so near, it was a losing battle.
“Pretty much. Guess they want you more than me. Actually, they’ve been trying to get to the trunks up top.”
A discordant warning note sounded in the back of her mind. What the hell was in the girl’s luggage that would draw wraiths? Her back wasn’t hot anymore, so she assumed the fire was out.
That fire, maybe. The one inside me is just getting going…
She squirmed from more than the smoke and struggled not to turn around and press the front of herself against Luke. They had bigger problems than his undeniable charisma. Luke didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move away, though. He remained front to back with her, and she absorbed power flowing from him. Damn, but he was strong. What she wouldn’t give for that kind of magic.
It would help if I could breathe…
With difficulty, Abigail forced her mind away from Luke’s charms. “The driver?” She hadn’t been round to the front of the wagon to check.
“Dead.”
“Ever driven one of these things?”
“Concentrate on killing, woman. If we can’t get shut of the wraiths, ’twon’t matter a diddly damn.”


Blood and Sorcery
Coven Enforcers
Book Two
Ann Gimpel

Dream Shadow Press
64K words

Release Date: 8/1/16

Genre: Historical paranormal romance with a steampunk edge

Coven Enforcers = Dark, Dangerous, Magical Men

Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.

Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....

Book Description:

Joshua committed his life to fighting Black Magick. Not sure who he hates worse, dark sorcerers or the clerics who tortured and mutilated his family, he lives on the road with his horse and his magic, working as a Coven enforcer. Breana Giraud is the only woman he’s ever loved, and until very recently she was married to someone else.

Breana’s husband, Don, sold his soul to the devil, embracing dark practices. Along the way, he corrupted their daughter. While Breana could’ve turned him in to Coven justice without a second thought, she couldn’t bring herself to implicate her child. Still reeling from her daughter’s death at the hands of evil, and grateful her husband met the vicious end he deserved, she feels broken, damaged. The last thing on her mind is falling in love.

Joshua tries to hold back, give Breana room to mourn her losses, but if he has his way, she’ll become his wife. With Don dead, and the path to his heart’s true love finally clear, he’ll do anything he can to make her his. Even if it means fighting his way past the dark mages’ leader, who wants her for his own.

Excerpt 

Blood and Sorcery:

Salt Lake City, Utah Territory
Breana Giraud bolted upright in her bed, the darkness around her shattering into fire-tinged motes of black. Heart thudding hard against her chest, throat constricted with fear, she reached for power, intent on shrouding herself in a protective spell. Goddamn her husband. He was at it again. It was like him to wait until she was sleeping—and she had to sleep sometime.
Once upon a time, she’d cared about Don—a witch with power to match her own. But he’d been seduced by the dark and become deeply entrenched in Black Magick. Shielding herself against him drained her, but she didn’t have any choice. Sucking air around the narrow place that used to be her throat, she sent magic spiraling outward. She didn’t sense him near, but the enchantment that just dragged her from a sound sleep had Don’s name—and sliminess—stamped all over it.
Her eyes snapped open. Don was dead.
Dead.
What the hell was happening to her?
He couldn’t harm her anymore, so why was his stench all over the room? It wasn’t even the bedroom they’d shared. She’d moved to the far end of the hall to escape the horrible memories that swamped her every time she thought about him.
Guess that didn’t work very well.
She pressed her tongue hard against her teeth and reached for her magic again. Surely she could summon a mage light. Simplest of spells, it required almost nothing in the way of power. Finally, after she was shaking and sweating with effort, a wavery blue light formed, casting the bedroom in eerie shadows. Breana urged her light to burn hotter, brighter. Her teeth were chattering, and she felt as if she’d never be warm again. Icy sweat dripped down her sides.
She tugged the heavy, wool blanket around her shuddering form, but it didn’t help so she dragged air hard into lungs that had nearly forgotten how to cooperate. And then did it again. And again, until she was able to clamp her jaws in a harsh, desperate line.
Her light flickered and brightened, and the ball of fear making it hard to breathe eased the slightest bit. Falling back asleep was laughable, so she dug her way out from under the covers and pulled a robe woven from soft, cream-colored wool over her linen nightdress. Sheepskin slippers came next.
At least the godawful chill that had permeated the air was dissipating, and the reek of evil along with it. Brimstone held a sulfur taint that burned the back of her throat and made her skin prickle with a million points of discomfort.
She blinked back tears as she made her way downstairs, her mage light bouncing over one shoulder. The dark had taken both her husband and her daughter, and robbed her of what had once been a warm and comfortable marriage. She hated Black Magick with a passion. Hated what it had almost done to her as she walked a tightrope between her husband’s demands and her responsibility to the Coven.
“Yeah, and I did a shitty job all the way round,” she muttered as she poured a cup of tepid coffee into a mug. It was bitter as all get out from sitting on the back of the woodstove since early the previous morning, but she gulped it down anyway, wanting the quick stimulation.
Too keyed up to sit, she wandered to a window and looked to the east. Dawn wasn’t far off, but the horizon was still dark. Days were growing longer, but it was still winter, and it might not get light until seven. She’d sent a meticulous letter to Coven headquarters in New York. Within it, she detailed her sins in not turning her husband and daughter over to Coven justice—once she fully understood their allegiance had shifted to dark power.
That letter had certainly arrived by now.
What would they do to her?
A snort of derision curled her mouth into a bitter smile. She knew what she’d do to someone in her position. Banish them from the Coven for starters. After that, it would be anyone’s guess, but the Coven wouldn’t be out of line demanding her life as punishment for shielding her family from what they deserved.
Not much she could do. About any of it. No. She needed to keep going, day by day, and let the wheel spin as it would. She’d find out soon enough. Certainly by this coming summer when most—if not all—of the Coven had relocated to Utah Territory. At least she’d given Luke and Abigail a good start by marrying them. Memories of that day—and their joy—kept her going through the hardest spots.
She plodded back to the stove and poured the last of the coffee into her cup before she opened the woodstove door and sent a jot of magic to stir the embers. Once they crackled merrily, she added chunks of wood and refilled the kettle on the back of the stove with water from the pump next to the sink. The chores were automatic, and they settled her nerves enough to dissect what had driven her awake.
Coven enforcers, a group of hard-bodied, sharp-eyed men, who kept witches on the straight and narrow, had seen to it that both Don and her daughter, Carolyn, met their end in mage fire, purging their souls of darkness. And they’d killed Alistair MacDuff, head of the Alchemical Council. She and Abigail had seen to the death of Alistair’s henchman before he, too, was dumped in the purification of mage fire.
“Guess we didn’t get them all,” she muttered as she ground coffee beans with a mortar and pestle.
“If them refers to who I think it does,” Joshua drawled from the kitchen doorway, “of course they’re not all dead. That fresh coffee I smell?”
Breana curved her mouth into a soft smile. “You know damn good and well it is. I drank the dregs from yesterday morning. Hang on till the water boils, and I’ll brew a fresh pot.”
“Don’t rush. I got time.” Joshua moved closer to the stove, extending his hands toward its warmth. Tight-fitting, buff-colored leathers, similar to what most Coven enforcers wore, hugged him like a second skin. Flame red hair hung loose to the middle of his back.
Breana turned to face him squarely and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Looks as if you got up in a hurry. Your hair’s not braided.”

Blood and Illusion
Coven Enforcers
Book Three
Ann Gimpel

Dream Shadow Press
64K words

Release Date: 8/22/16

Genre: Historical paranormal romance with a steampunk edge

Coven Enforcers = Dark, Dangerous, Magical Men

Coven Witches bow to no one—least of all Enforcers.

Sparks ignite. Tempers run high. Passion explodes. Hot. Sweet. Impossible to ignore....

Book Description:

Not all witches join the Coven. Fiercely independent, Isla heads up her own small band in the San Francisco area. She’s never needed help before, but dark sorcerers drive her and her group into hiding, trapping them.

Sam’s worked for the Coven as one of their enforcers forever. He’s been there so long, the Coven is the only mistress he knows. It’s a lonely life on the road thwarting wickedness and Black Magick with his guns, his magic, and his horse, but it’s been enough to satisfy him. Until now.

A group of witches is in deep trouble. They’re not part of the Coven, but Sam is sworn to protect all witches and he rides to their assistance with several of his brothers. Nothing prepares him for the outspoken spitfire who ends up riding double with him. She’s forthright, opinionated, and downright hostile, but he’s drawn to her self-sufficiency—and her undeniable beauty. Soon, Isla is all he can think about.

Dark forces are on the move. Protecting the woman he’s falling in love with is at the very top of Sam’s list. If they manage to survive, he’ll tame her. Claim her. Make her his.


Excerpt 

Blood and Illusion:

…Isla huddled with six other witches in a basement beneath one of the warehouses lining San Francisco’s docks. Her hair hung in filthy strands. Grime caked beneath her nails, and she stank, but at least she was alive. Russian sorcerers—or at least sorcerers who spoke Russian—had killed four of her sisters before she’d dragged the rest of their small band to a defensible position and swathed them in layers and layers of magic.
It had been a short-term solution, but they hadn’t had any choice. Not really. Only problem was they had no easy way out. If they dismantled their spell, the sorcerers would find them in a trice. If they remained where they were, eventually they’d starve to death. She was far weaker than she’d been a week ago when they’d barricaded themselves into the underground room with its dirt floor and dirt walls. Small cutouts high on two walls coincided with ground level, and provided their only source of light.
In desperation, she’d used her power stone to call Hester Thorne, a witch who’d been instrumental drawing their group into a cohesive unit. Hester promised help, but it had yet to materialize. Breath steamed through Isla’s teeth as she bent forward and stirred the shallow pool she’d created from a broken pot made of crockery and water dripping down the walls. It took a while, but the water had finally grown deep enough to become a scrying instrument.
Weariness dogged her, and her vision blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing them to focus next time she dragged her lids open. Thinking it might help, she pushed herself upright and walked around the six- by ten-foot room.
“What are you doing?” Kat eyed her balefully out of bloodshot blue eyes. “I was asleep.” Dirty blonde hair had been braided to keep it out of the way.
“Aye, and ye’ll be asleep permanently if ye’re not careful,” Isla shot back, the brogue from her native Scotland thicker than usual. It was one of the reasons she and Hester had bonded so tightly. Shared roots from Scotland’s Highlands and islands.
“Isla! Come look at your pool!” Rowan cried. Silver hair fell about her, dragging in the dirt, but her brown eyes were lit with hope.
Isla skidded to her knees and stared at the water’s surface. Nine men strutted down the rock-strewn sand fronting the ocean. Tall, rangy, hard-bodied and clad in leathers, it was obvious they were used to ruling the world. At first she thought they were a new passel of sorcerers, but she forced herself to look closer.
Not trusting her first take, she took a ragged breath. Maybe she wished for salvation from the room that was likely to become their crypt so desperately, she was imagining things, “What does it look like to you?” she asked Rowan.
The other woman turned to face her. “Help. That’s what it looks like. Those men are bleeding power, and it’s the good kind.”
The other women skittered across the floor, jostling one another to get close to the pool so they could see.
“Be careful!” Isla cautioned. “Else ye’ll tip the dish, and we might not live long enough for me to refill it.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the men. One of them in particular caught her attention and held it. Long, blond hair spilled across his shoulders, and his eyes were a bright, turquoise blue. Strong bones carved his cheekbones into bas-relief, and his jaw was square, determined. Buff colored leathers covered him, and they were skintight, leaving virtually nothing to her imagination. Broad shoulders led to deeply muscled arms and narrow hips with a high, tight ass. Long legs disappeared into boots that laced to his knees.
Her throat grew dry. Many a year had passed since she’d experienced such an immediate reaction to a man, and it confused her.
Must be because I’m half-staved.
Och aye, and ye know better, the other half of her brain inserted dryly. Whoever he was, he was one gorgeous man.
Understanding slammed into her, and she was ashamed she hadn’t put two and two together immediately. “They must be the aid Hester promised.” She glanced at the other women.
Rowan lurched upright. “If that’s true, then we need to go outside and help them.”
Isla licked her chapped lips. “They’re not looking as if they need any help, but at least that way they won’t have to hunt for us, and mayhap we can leave this accursed place.”
“You’re the one with the strongest magic,” Kat pointed out. “And the only one who can project telepathy beyond the enchantment hiding us. See if they answer.”
Isla exhaled sharply. It was a reasonable suggestion, but not without risk. If she was wrong, and those men were actually allied with the dark, she’d have given away their position. Opened them to a certain death. Or worse, imprisonment at the hands of evil.
“I was in your mind,” Rowan said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “We’re as good as dead now. I say we chance it.”
“I was coming around to the same conclusion.” Isla breathed deeply to center herself and drew out her pink moonstone. Before she could think things to death, and her courage failed utterly, she linked to the stone and sent her magic thrumming outward. No need to make things fancy, so she settled on the shortest phrase imaginable.
“Are ye who Hester sent?”
Depending on the answer, she’d ask for proof and take things from there.


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)