Saturday, October 22, 2016

In a Gilded Cage Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


In a Gilded Cage
Mia Kerick
(Evernight Publishing)
Publication date: October 21st 2016
Genres: LGBTQ+, New Adult, Romance


Lucci Grimley is indeed alluring—crowned with a mane of long blond hair, and blessed with an enchanting musical talent that draws a brave rescuer to a high tower hidden in the forest.

However, this modern-day Rapunzel is a young man, sold as a child to the wealthy and childless Damien Gotham for the price of a fast car and a pile of cash. And Lucci’s heroic prince is William “Prin” Prinzing, a handsome college student and star soccer player, hired to care for the grounds of the lavish Tower Estate. Prin climbs an extension ladder rather than a long golden braid to gain access to Lucci’s second floor bedroom window, ultimately penetrating the secrecy surrounding the cloistered young man.

Friendship, and soon romance, blooms. The tower captive eagerly gives his loving innocence to his brave rescuer, which sends the strict and reclusive Gotham into a frenzy of jealous rage. With Prin, Lucci gets a taste of real life, and he wants more. Together, the young men must face Gotham’s ruthlessness and pay the price of liberating Lucci.



EXCERPT

Lucci
He is awaiting me in the entryway, somehow appearing to be comfortable in the antique ladder-back chair. This is indeed a horrid surprise.
“You were outside, Lucas.” Father must certainly have spies hidden throughout the property, watching me constantly and revealing my every movement. “You left the house without my permission.”
“You were asleep, Father. I did not wish to disturb you to ask for permission to explore the maze.” I push all of my breath into my voice in an effort to sound like my heart is light and free of guilt. From the way he scowls, I believe my effort has failed.
“There is no room for excuses, son. You broke a rule by leaving the building without my consent. There will be a consequence.” He smiles as if in an attempt to comfort me, and I can see long straight teeth hidden in his bushy beard. “We will take care of your punishment tonight. After we dine.”
I don’t try to fight the shiver of dread. I allow it to swallow my body and raise tiny bumps on my skin. “Of course, Father.”
The man stands. Every time he rises to his full height I am newly impressed by how large he is. And how small I feel. But I do not meet his eyes, as I do not want to break another rule. “Very well, Lucas. I must attend to some imperative business in the conference room. I suggest you proceed to your suite and busy yourself with music. It is far more constructive than playing like a child in the outdoors.”
“Shall I practice my flute, sir?”
“No. I would prefer that you spend the afternoon vocalizing. I will come upstairs to listen to your progress on ‘February Song’ in due time.” He clears his throat in a manner I find repulsive, but I do not flinch as I once did. “I will not knock before entering.”
I know precisely what his words suggest: when Father bursts into my room, it will be in my best interest if I am singing. Not daydreaming. Or doodling. Or longing for days gone by. I must be actively singing. “Yes, sir. May I be excused?”
“There is one more small issue, Lucas. I do not care to see your feet bare, especially not soiled like a child stricken with rural poverty, until I remove your shoes myself as I prepare you for bed.”
He then nods and gestures with his hand—I have been dismissed.

Author Bio:
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology. 

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The Hitman's Possession Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


The Hitman’s Possession
Tia Lewis
(A Bad Boy Mafia Romance, #1)
Publication date: October 19th 2016
Genres: Dark Hitman Romance


I’m a hard, ruthless, and brutal killer… but I’m not letting her go.

I’m the most feared man in South Boston. I’ve earned that title and the nickname “The Animal.” Women may think it’s because I’m wild in bed, and one night with me and they’d f*cking know it.

But there’s a darker reason for my reputation… I think nothing about ending a life. Feelings are a luxury I can’t afford.

Until her.

I hear Tess cry for help and I give into the urge to help her. One look at her and I knew I had to risk it all to rescue her. I’m no knight in shining armor; I’m saving her so I can keep the sexy spitfire for myself.

But the mob wants her back. She wasn’t meant to live through that night.

No f*cking way I’m going to let that happen. Tess ignites a fire within me like nothing I’ve ever known. Her legs are meant to be wrapped around me, and only me. I’ll take on the whole Russian mob ―hell, the whole world―to keep the one woman who’s meant to belong to me.

I’ll kill every bastard that tries to take her away. She can try to run, but she’s not getting away from this hitman. She’s my possession now. 
Warning: The Hitman’s Possession is a full-length dark romance novel that’s intended for mature audiences only. This novel address issues of a serious nature, including violence surrounding the nature of consent. This novel contains very disturbing situations, graphic language and violence and explicit sexual content. Reader discretion is strongly advised.


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Excerpts

We ate in silence, and she took the containers to the trash. When she returned, she bit her lip. It was a look I couldn’t read. I had no clue what she was trying to say. I just wanted to grab her luscious ass and see how she felt when I was deep inside of her. I didn’t care about any looks she would give me, unless she was on her back, legs in the air and looking wide-eyed up at me.
“So, Liam…let’s’ cut to the chase. Am I really your prisoner in this… dump?”
I wickedly laughed. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“I guess it’s official then?”
“Yeah. Besides, you don’t want to leave anyway.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if you go, you think you’ll come face to face with a ruthless Russian covered in prison tattoos, ready to finish what those bastards in the alley started. You have no choice but to stay with me. Like I said before, make yourself at home.”
She looked at the ground. The situation was clear. She was scared shitless of the Russians, and she wanted my protection. What wasn’t clear was why the Russians would have anything to do with some young woman. She didn't give off the same type of vibe that most whores seem to have. She was also too feisty and didn’t have the dead eyes of being beaten down by life, or at least not yet. She was brave, too, or just plain stupid. You would have to be brave or stupid to run from the Russians like that. Whatever it came down to, it would mean work for me. It was always the same.
People always wanted something from a man like me, because I was willing to do the things that most people weren’t. I’d kill anyone if you paid me enough. However, I had one rule: no children. Maybe I was kidding himself, thinking my rule made me less than a monster.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, my mind kept dwelling on that hot body of hers. I’d love to have seen that ass bouncing on my cock as I pounded her deep from behind, one hand grabbing her hip, my other hand reaching around to her bouncing tits, pinching her nipples.
“It’s my bet you’ve made a big mess with the Russians,” I said. “A real big mess. So, I’m going to need you to tell me why they’re after somebody like you.”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry,” she replied. “I don’t trust you yet.”
“Maybe you’re smarter than you look, then. Apart from that yet part. You should never trust me. Let me tell you that up front. Trust me, and you’ll be making a terrible mistake.”
“I don’t think you’re the monster you’re pretending to be. A monster wouldn’t have stopped when they heard my screams.”
“You’re wrong, Wendy,” I said, openly staring at her. “You just have to ask yourself what kind of monster would take a woman like you as my possession? I’m that kind.”
She looked away, crossing her legs and sighed. 



availablenowsquare

Author Bio:
Tia Lewis is a romance author from the Midwest who writes about smart, sexy, sassy women and hot, possessive alpha males. Her favorite bad boys to write about include sports players, mafia, bikers, billionaires and the bad-ass next door. You can find her cooking, reading, or traveling when she’s not busy working on her next release.
Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text LEWIS to 31996! 

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Friday, October 21, 2016

Dark Diary Tour & Excerpt!

Dark Diary
P. Anastasia 
New Adult Paranormal Romance (NON-EROTIC)
Date Published: Sept. 26, 2016


Worlds collide when a young woman with a dark past encounters a young man with an even darker one. More human than vampire, Dark Diary is a quaint, sophisticated romance detailing the accounts of two lovers who have paid the ultimate price... Forbidden romance in the vein of classics like Wuthering Heights, frosted with the seductive allure of the original Dark Shadows, Dark Diary documents a pair torn apart by time. The story is told by a 400-year-old immortal and a 21-year-old modern-day artist.

He's haunted by guilt over the passing of a friend and lover--the daughter of an English Baron in 17th century Ireland.

She's tormented nightly by visions of her own untimely death. Together, they find solace by sharing secrets beneath the light of the moon.

From the author of the Fluorescence Series, this timeless, genre-crossing love story with supernatural undertones, will capture your heart and never let go.

Purchase Links
Amazon: https://amzn.com/B01HPEDSDO
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dark-diary-p-anastasia/1123655677?ean=9780986256783



Excerpt

“I will belong to no other.” Muffled by the effects of recently ingested poison, my voice was nearly inaudible.
I clasped my hands together near my lips and closed my eyes to absolve myself. It is often said that you will find God when you are near death, but God was not who I sought.
Lingering on the thought, I glanced down at the icy water sweeping over my bare feet. The rocks were slippery and the darkness made it difficult to see anything besides the reflection of the vigilant moon.
With each step, my legs grew heavier—weaker—until I could stand no longer. I slipped and hit the water with a splash.
The current pushed and pulled at my limbs. Coils of sea­weed and dead branches weaved themselves into the curls of my hair as my body swayed against the tide. My fingers glided across waterworn stone, indentations in the rocks catching my fingernails.

Then I felt nothingness.
Life and death battled for my soul, their claws tugging me violently from side to side. The score was easily settled as a wave crashed into my face, filling my mouth and lungs with seawater.
Numb, my limbs no longer responded to my will. As I was dragged deeper through the blackness, my consciousness drifted in and out—my sacrifice to the watery beast, voluntary.
Heavy. Weightless. Then falling forever. Death triumphantly possessed me, a ghostly hand wriggling down my throat to claim my soul. My heart surrendered to the trauma and control over my body faded from my grasp.
A final thought fluttered by and I opened my eyes. Through my blurry, distorted vision, I almost thought I could see him gazing down at me through the ripples of moonlight.
I almost thought I could see him reaching out to me.
        
Are you alright?” Matthaya asked, his expression as con­cerned as always. His fingers brushed against my hand.
I nodded and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. I was better before he came in, but that’s business. Things don’t bother me the way they used to.”
“I know.” He walked over to the front door, locked the deadbolt, and then switched off our sign and all the lights in the lobby.
“I’m worried about you,” he added. “You aren’t yourself tonight.”
“It’s nothing.” I pulled the drawer from the cash register and carried it into the back room.
This was my shop now. We had purchased it a while back after the owner had died.
I had been there, too… when he’d died, I mean.
I had been there, watching it happen.
That’s a part of my past I will never forget. That and…
“It was the dream again, wasn’t it?” Matthaya walked closely beside me, his gait in sync with mine.
Yes, it was the dream, but I feared telling him the truth. It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt it, after all.
“It doesn’t make any sense.” His voice became gruff, and his fingers formed a fist. “There’s no reason for it to haunt you still.”
Ghastly visions terrorized me as I slept and I could not bear the anguish and guilt each unwelcome visit brought. They had occurred for several days in a row and seemed all too abrupt to be a side effect of anything in particular.
Matthaya took the cash drawer from my hands and set it on the table behind us.
Money meant nothing.
“Sit down.” He implored me to rest in a softly padded chair to which he had turned my attention. My head was weary with the endless horrors I endured each night, and he found little comfort in his inability to stop the nightmares. The depression of helplessness slowly crept into his veins and I could feel his sadness growing.
He didn’t deserve this. My love for Matthaya was great—so great, in fact, that I had given up my life to be with him. The least I could do was be honest.
It was dark in the back room. Matthaya struck a match and lit a stout ivory candle for the sheer novelty of it. Gazing upon the warm flames tamed the beast in me.
He set it down in front of me on the table and a soft yellow glow filled the room, bouncing from wall to wall, playing tricks with our shadows.
My sensitive ears twitched from the clink of two wine glasses as he set them on the table and tipped a bottle over them, filling them with rich crimson liquid. The smell teased my senses with intrigue and delight, like a crisp spring breeze. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the aura of its purity and youth.
He took a seat beside me.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, swirling the precious drink around in my glass. Such an indulgence was uncommon for us.
His expression turned dark and defensive. “What difference does that make?” he replied firmly, implying that the source was no longer a concern.
I shrugged and relinquished my query.
My lips pressed against the rim of the glass and I poured the drink slowly into my mouth and swallowed. It left my lips painted with scarlet tint, which reflected back at me in the sheen of the glass. Matthaya mirrored my actions, and we shared a much-needed moment of peace in the darkness.
I still remember when a cup of hot milk could settle my tumultuous pangs, but those days are long gone. I set down my glass and ran the edge of my tongue across my lips, savoring the last trace of infant blood.
Many months had passed since we had tasted humans. We sought to keep it that way indefinitely, but the violent churning of nightmares left me susceptible and weak to its sensual charms. Matthaya knew our eternal hunger well, and he knew that a weakened state left me vulnerable to my lust for young blood.
Modern formalities aside, you could call Matthaya my husband. He rescued me from the mortality that plagues you now. Together we share our lives in the darkness. Together we face our fears… our limitations.
It was a choice that I made not long ago. A choice we were forced to make to preserve our feelings for one another. In exchange, we now face the monstrous truth that surrounds the myth that is “forever.
There is no morning, no dawn, and no dusk. Spring and summer mean nothing to us. There is only the bitterness of winter and the darkness of night.
And while the virile emotions of surrounding mortals infiltrate my mind, the fiery kiss of passionate love has grown cold to my anesthetized skin.
Matthaya and I share our strengths and our weaknesses. This is our world now and, together, we are damned to spend eternity trapped in the icy shadow of the moon’s ghostly light.
My name is Kathera.
I was just like you once.




Author Info
With character origins tracing back to the late nineties, Dark Diary was the creative leap that sent P. Anastasia plummeting into the literary rabbit hole for good. One of her prized accomplishments, the novel resonates with darkness and passion—the embodiment of her unique storytelling style.

Author of the science fiction tetralogy, Fluorescence, she is no stranger to writing. Drawn to the craft in childhood, she began attempting to produce her first book at age 11.

While working toward her college degree, she wrote news and editorial columns for two campus newspapers. After graduating with a degree in Communications and spending a year studying abroad in Kofu, Japan, she followed her heart to her publishing aspirations. On the side, she enjoys serving as a professional voice talent for radio, television, and audio books.

Contact Links
Website: www.DarkDiaryNovel.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DarkDiaryNovel
Twitter: https://twitter.com/FluorescentOnes
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10802500.P_Anastasia
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/FluorescentOnes


Skye Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Skye
Kimberly Loth
(The Dragon Kings, #4)
Publication date: October 19th 2016
Genres: Paranormal Romance, Young Adult


Rowan Winters is completely in love. With a shifter dragon.

But the drop-dead gorgeous Skye only thinks of Rowan as her best friend. But when she turns up in his room in the middle of the night in tears, he yearns to do whatever he can to help her. Even if that means running away and letting his family think he’s dead.

Skye’s entire world turns upside down the day her scales turns black. She knows she’ll have to flee to find answers. But she wasn’t planning on Rowan coming too. She just wanted to say goodbye. He is so eager to help that she can’t leave him behind even though she knows she’ll never be able to love him in return.

Together, they fight off murderous dragons and uncover sinister plans. But can they find the answers Skye so desperately seeks? And can Rowan sacrifice everything he knows to win her heart?



EXCERPT

Skye was a coward. She knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay and watch Sid and Aspen commit suicide. There was no way the council would allow Aspen to become queen.
Not to mention that then Skye would have to know the exact moment when she died, because anyone who pledged loyalty to Sid would die the second he did. No, running away was better. She should have enough time to get to her parents before death came. She’d able to say goodbye.
This was her fault. Pearl had told her to keep Aspen safe. Instead she’d gone and made everything worse. Maybe if she’d kept Aspen at home, Sid would’ve been fine.
If she’d never given Sid that damn loyalty seal, she wouldn’t be this close to death. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking at that time. Part of her thought he’d make it. Another part didn’t care whether she lived or died. It wasn’t like she’d have much of a life anymore.
When Sid became King she found Everett and begged him to remove the seal that marked how much she loved him. He did and now she longer had a swirl of gold on her ankle. But Everett warned her there would be a price to pay. She gladly paid it at the time, but but she hadn’t expected to feel so empty.
For a half second she thought about heading to Everett’s instead of her parents. Maybe he could remove the loyalty seal before she died. She shook her head. How cowardly of her. The price would not be worth it. That was for sure.
She was only fooling herself though. She would make the same decision if given the choice. Aspen was the only way they could possibly survive. When Skye dropped Aspen off , there were three possible outcomes. One, she and Sid would die and all those with loyalty seals would as well. Two, Helios, the final dragon that Sid needed to secure all the loyalty seals got to him before the council had a chance to killed him. Or three. Aspen could be become queen. She’d have to convince the council that she should be queen and pass the queen’s tests She hoped Aspen could do it.
She felt her wings tiring. This could be the beginning of her death. She hadn’t known anyone who had died because of the loyalty seal and didn’t know how it worked. She spotted a lake below her and decided to stop and get a drink. She had to make it home.
Skye landed a little rougher than normal. This had to be the end. She staggered over to the water and took a deep drink. The water sparkled under the full moon. Skye stretched her wings out and swiveled her neck around to scratch her nose. She froze. Her wing was no longer silver.
This must be part of her death. Or at least that was what she tried to convince herself of. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she no longer felt tired. Dragons didn’t change color before they died. In fact dragons never changed color. Except when they became king. Then they turned black.
Skye spun neck around the other direction. It was more than her wings that had changed. Her whole body was now a deep coal black.
This was impossible. There was no way she could become king. Sid was king. Unless he died. Then someone else would take his place, but that someone had to be a full royal dragon and male. Of which she was neither. There had to be some huge mistake. This had to be a dream. She stuck her head in the cold water and came out again. Still black. This wasn’t possible.
Unless.
That stupid prophecy.
The one that said three kings would rise. The one that said they could come from other races. But she was still female. Something was definitely wrong. She was also still very much alive. She couldn’t go see her parents now, not like this. No, she had to go see the one dragon who could explain how this happened.
She wracked her brain trying to think of everything she’d learned about the prophecy. She loved history and so she studied a lot, but this baffled her. Nothing in the prophecy said anything about a girl. She’d spent hours listening to Everett’s boring details about the prophecy, yet he hadn’t mentioned that females could become kings. He was so in for it.

Author Bio:
Kimberly Loth can’t decide where she wants to settle down. She’s lived in Michigan, Illinois, Missouri, Utah, California, Oregon, and South Carolina.
She finally decided to make the leap and leave the U.S. behind for a few years. After living in Cairo, Egypt for 2 years, she's decided to go to the Far East and currently calls Shenzhen, China home. She loves romantic movies, chocolate, roses, and crazy adventures. 


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Thursday, October 20, 2016

Jubal Van Zandt and the Revenge of the Bloodslinger Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Jubal Van Zandt and the Revenge of the Bloodslinger
A Jubal Van Zandt Novel
Episode 1
eden Hudson

Genre: Urban Fantasy / Cyber Punk

Publisher: Shadow Alley Press Inc.

Date of Publication: October 14, 2016

Number of pages: Approx. 265
Word Count: 50,000

Cover Artist: Lou Harper

Book Description:

Narcissist, sociopath, and shameless backstabber Jubal Van Zandt is the best damn thief in the history of the Revived Earth...and he won't shut up about it.

But not everybody in the swampy, soggy, feudal future approves of Jubal's vocation. The Guild—the religious fanatics who helped rebuild civilization after the collapse—in particular are waiting for their opportunity to slip the noose around his neck.

Which is why when the renowned Guild knight Carina Xiao—a.k.a. the Bloodslinger—contacts Jubal about an off-the-books job that violates Guild Law, he's too intrigued to say no. He is the best damn thief in the history of the Revived Earth, after all.

Part bizarro ecopunk, part outworld thriller, part odd-couple roadtrip, Jubal Van Zandt and the Revenge of the Bloodslinger is a 150% futurepunk quest for blood and betrayal across the Revived Earth.


Excerpt

I clapped my hands together. “Let’s get started. How did you hear about me?”
“Guild files,” Carina said. “Their records on you are full of suspicions, first-person accounts, and rumors. No arrests, no charges, and no incriminating evidence that you didn’t purposely leave behind for someone to find. I investigated Laars Gonzalez’s allegations that—”
She broke off, pulling a well-worn knuckgun from inside her leather jacket and pointing it at the two big guys approaching our booth.
“Don’t take another step,” she said. “Drop your weapons.”
They stopped, but didn’t drop the rust-caked knife or the stunclub.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Looks like somebody recognized me. I’ll sign one autograph apiece, guys, but then I’ve really got to get back to work.”
The bigger of the two, who looked like he dogfought for funsies on the weekends, growled, “The Guild has no jurisdiction here, knight. The man you’re associating with is a wanted fugitive in Argameri.”
“That’s true,” I told Carina. “Dead or alive. The bounty’s huge.”
She didn’t take her eyes off the bruisers as she asked me, “Why didn’t you say something when I suggested meeting here?”
“Aw, come on, look at these guys! They couldn’t take a cucumber from a slime whore. Besides, I wanted to see what you’d do. Shoot ’em and let’s get back to business.”
“What are you wanted for?” she asked.
“For being better than them. They’re jealous that I sold them out before they could think of a way to do it to me.”
The second guy, whose face was covered in fishhook tattoos, pointed his snapping and sparking stunclub at me. “Your betrayal cost hundreds of Argamerian lives!”
“Really?” I said. “Because I heard it was thousands.”




About the Author:


I am invincible. I am a mutant. I have 3 hearts and was born with no eyes. I had eyes implanted later. I didn't have hands, either, just stumps. When my eyes were implanted they asked if I would like hands as well and I said, "Yes, I'll take those," and pointed with my stump. But sometimes I'm a hellbender peeking out from under a rock. When it rains, I live in a music box.

But I'm also a tattoo-addict, coffee-junkie, drummer, and aspiring skateboarder. Jesus actually is my homeboy.





Sci-Fi and Fantasy Book Party & Giveaway!

Welcome to the Sci-Fi and Fantasy Book Party!

Welcome to the genreCRAVE Science Fiction and Fantasy $1200 Giveaway! We have something really exciting set up for you. First, some KILLER Science Fiction and Fantasy books at a steal, and after that, a chance to enter our $1200 Gift Card Giveaway! Read on for more information, but first, check out the books from our sponsors at the link below!

VIEW BOOKS FROM THE SPONSORS HERE!

Here are a couple of sneak peeks!
Ambassador 1: Seeing Red
I had never been on first-name terms with the president, but while I sat there trying hard not to succumb to jet-lag, he chatted about my father, whom I had just visited, and who had finally retired from Lunar Base to his native New Zealand. Sirkonen opened the drawer of his desk and took something out, which he flipped across the gleaming wooden surface. I could do nothing but catch it. A datastick. I turned it over. The black plastic cover reflected the sunlight.
“What’s on it?”
“You might find it useful. Think of it as some . . . personal advice, from me to you. We’ll talk about it later, when you return for your first briefing.” He shut the drawer with a thud as if closing the subject.
This was highly irregular. “Mr President, can I ask—”
He shook his head, and offered me a drink—Finnish vodka, best in the world, he said. While he poured, his hands trembled.
I should have insisted that he tell me what was wrong, but who was I? An unimportant, sending-out-our-feelers type of diplomat, expendable and twenty years his junior. Not the type of person to draw attention to his problems—with alcohol or otherwise.
We made a toast. The heavy scent of the vodka did nothing to improve my alertness.
“Mr Wilson, when you come back in six month’s time, you must present your report to the general assembly. We need to know in detail what sort of regimes we’re dealing with.”
I didn’t understand why he spoke in such empty generalities; I wondered when he was going to open that folder on his desk and sign the contract. Nicha, my Coldi assistant, was waiting in the foyer. We had a whole heap of work to catch up on. I was annoyed that Sirkonen had changed our meeting time at the last minute—the original meeting had been scheduled for tomorrow morning.
Sirkonen stopped speaking.
I stared at him, realising with embarrassment that I’d been off with the fairies. Was I meant to have said something? Was I breaking rule number one of the diplomatic circle: never show any sign of sleep deprivation?
An attack of dizziness overtook me. My vision wavered, as if the world were painted on a silk flag that flapped in the wind, and all the furniture was rimmed in a red aura. “Mr President, I’m—”
I just managed to put my vodka down. The glass hit the wood with a soft clunk, the only sound in the frozen silence.
There was a small sound from outside, a click.
As if stung, Sirkonen turned to the window; his eyes widened.
“Sir?”
The president opened his mouth, but a sharp crack interrupted his words.
Releasing Rage
She stepped into the firewall square. The door behind her closed and she authorized the interior door to open.
A buzz swept over her. No, not simply over her. Into her. She gasped, her inhalation of air drawing more of this unknown presence inside her.
It was too much, almost suffocating. Joan swayed, lightheaded. “Do not faint. Do not faint,” she repeated to herself, closing her eyes.
The rolling under her feet gradually stopped. She opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. Crimson spray covered everywhere she looked. Gore was splattered into the farthest corners, hanging from the ceiling. Cleaner bots scrubbed the walls and floor.
This was why she felt dizzy, she reasoned. She smelled and sensed this butchery.
C899321, the being she had been told was responsible, stood in his uploading dock, a cable inserted into his nape, his towering form naked, covered with blood, his long black hair dripping with it.
He turned his head, locked his gaze with hers and she sucked in her breath. There were worlds of agony, of rage, in those bright blue eyes. This was no rational, logic-driven cyborg. This was a man, an animal, crazed by bloodlust and pain.
“They thought to pacify me with the use of a human female?” he thundered, his deep gravelly voice clawing across her skin, awakening parts in her she didn’t realize slept. “I’d kill you before I allowed you to touch me.”
This insult didn’t hurt her the way he’d intended. Joan knew she wasn’t the slim tiny female males desired. She was solidly built, good breeding stock, as her mother had once said.
She discarded his words and focused on the torment in his tones. He hurt. Horrifically. Her fingers twitched, the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him, tremendous. Judging by the flex of his powerful biceps and thigh muscles, by the anger radiating from him, he wouldn’t appreciate that response.
He also wouldn’t listen to any command she issued. A reprimand, verbal or physical, would add to his hostility. Some being had already tried to restrain him and failed. The reportedly unbreakable wrist and ankle cuffs attached to the frame of the uploading dock had been shattered, rendered useless.
Joan discarded four solar cycles’ worth of theory on how to handle malfunctioning cyborgs, realizing now that the academy experts knew nothing.
Her late father, however, had taught her how to deal with wild beasts.
“I would never touch you without your permission.” She lowered her gaze, showing submission, recognizing C899321 as the dominant male he was. He’d seek to harm any aggressor, to protect himself and his territory. If she wasn’t female, she suspected she’d already be dead.
“I also would never hurt you.” Joan stuffed a couple of cleaning cloths into her pockets and dropped to her knees, into a puddle of red. The moisture soaked through her flight suit. “I’m here to serve you, to clean you.”


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Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Fall Into Romance Giveaway Hop!



Fall Into Romance! Share the romances that had you falling in love with the genre!

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My regular readers know how much I love a good paranormal romance! The sexier the better!  So with Halloween just around the corner, Share My Destiny would like to give away a copy of one of this weeks favorite offerings, Sexy to Go: Halloween Edition Box Set in addition to a $5 Amazon eGift Card so you can choose a new romantic favorite of your own!  And don't forget to follow the Hop for great gifts and giveaways at every stop!


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Eden's Deliverance Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

Eden’s Deliverance
The Eden Series
Book Four
Rhenna Morgan

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy Romance

Publisher: Rhenna Morgan

Date of Publication: October 11, 2016

ISBN: Print - 978-1-945361-03-6 /
ISBN: E-book - 978-1-945361-02-9
ASIN: B01IUR28TA

Number of pages: 277
Word Count: 98,794

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Book Description:

Fate is the life we’re given. Destiny is what we do with it.

Captured as a child and forced into slavery by the Rebellion’s leader, Brenna Haven was raised in near isolation with the utmost cruelty. She knew nothing of kindness or compassion until Fate orchestrated her rescue. Finally free, she wants nothing more than to return to her home. To reconnect with her human family and live a simple, quiet life. But her newfound powers demand an entirely different future. One fraught with danger and a terrifying role in an ancient Myren prophecy.

A battle-hardened warrior and sworn bodyguard to the king, Ludan Forte wields a powerful, memory stealing gift. But his skill comes with a price. A torturous burden he’s hidden since his awakening over a hundred years ago. He never dreamed he’d find relief, let alone be tempted to forgo his vows to the king. Yet in Brenna’s sweet beguiling presence, the weight he bears is lifted. And when her role in the prophecy threatens her life, he’ll stop at nothing to keep her safe.

This is the final book in the Eden Series.

Amazon US      Amazon CA      Amazon UK

Nook     iBooks      Kobo     ARe


 Excerpt

Warmth and a soft tickle skated along Brenna’s jawline. Lips, the same full, delicious ones she’d craved since Ludan had kissed her, the scruff of his beard leaving the same unforgettable impact as his mouth. His wavy hair slid through her fingers, a weighted silk that teased her forearms. He slanted his mouth across hers and licked inside.
Perfect. The slide of his tongue, his taste, the way he groaned into the kiss and sent perfect trills coursing down her spine. Nothing on earth was better.
He lifted his head. His ice-blue eyes glowed with need and so much passion it resonated in her soul. “This is what you want.”
Odd. It was Ludan’s voice, but her own was superimposed with it. And it wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Candles surrounded them, and a scarlet satin comforter stretched beneath them.
Not real.
“This is what you want,” Ludan said again, ghosting his knuckles along her collarbone and slipping his fingers beneath the neckline of her nightshirt.
Her heart leapt at the touch, his caress only hinting in the direction of her breast, but drawing her nipples to hard points. “Yes.”
He smiled and lowered his gaze, a long lock of hair falling over his forehead. “So beautiful.”
Cool air assaulted her flesh, sending goose bumps along her torso. Her nightshirt was gone, whisked away by her dreams.
Inch by inch, he trailed his fingertips down her sternum, his expression so reverent and caring she was afraid to move.
He cupped one breast, and she arched into the contact, too overwhelmed with the sensation to do anything but close her eyes and surrender to its magic. She tightened her grip on the back of his head, urging him closer. “Ludan, please.” She didn’t know what it was she needed, only that she did, and badly.
“Shhh.” He dipped his head and smoothed his lips along the path his fingers had taken.  
More.
Over and over, the word echoed through her head. Nothing else mattered except the feel of him against her. His weight, the warmth of his skin, and the safety of his arms. She closed her eyes and splayed her hands across his wide shoulders. So much strength. Power as rigidly contained as the man. “Ludan.”
One of his big hands cupped her shoulders, and his lips disappeared.
She squeezed her eyes and willed them back. “Ludan, please.”
He spoke again, but this time it was different. Farther away and muffled. “Brenna.”
No.
She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow. No, no, no. She couldn’t lose him. Not again. She hadn’t done anything wrong this time. Had she?
The hand at her shoulder tightened. “Brenna, wake up.”
Heat registered beside her. Not the kind from her dream, but real. Tangible, deliciously masculine heat and muscle.
Her eyes snapped open.
Ludan lay propped on one elbow beside her, the other hand holding her shoulder as she’d felt in her dream. In the daylight, his form was intimidating, but in the night’s shadows, he was downright scary. “You okay?”
Not really. Sweat misted her skin, and her heart jack-rabbited in an out-of-control rhythm. The covers were too heavy, pressing against her tight breasts. She shifted her legs and nearly moaned at the throbbing pulse between them. “I’m fine.”
The comment earned her a sharp frown. He relinquished his hold and leaned back far enough that the bay’s moonlight brought him out of shadow. At some point after she’d fallen asleep, he’d removed his T-shirt, leaving his perfect body on prime display. “You didn’t sound fine.”
She pushed upright and leaned against the headboard, careful to hide her aching nipples with the sheet. Looking at him only made the ache worse. In that moment, she’d give a lot to let her fingers have free rein. “It was just a dream,” she whispered.
He stared at her, then lowered his gaze to her clenched fists in the sheets. “You’re afraid.”
“No.” It came out too fast, and his eyes snapped to hers. “I mean, it was an intense dream, but not something I’m afraid of.”
An odd look flittered across his face, caution or suspicion. “Tell me.”
This is what you want.
Clearly, her subconscious wasn’t in the mood to mess around. And while she’d happily go there in dreams every night, she wasn’t so sure Ludan would appreciate the concept of them together as much as she did. Especially after what had happened last time.
“I…” What could she say? “I’m not sure it’s something you’d want to hear. It was personal.”
His eyes narrowed. “Personal, as in…”
“Personal.” She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “It was about the two of us.”
His head snapped back, and his breathing accelerated. He clenched the sheet at his waist, and his nostrils flared. “What about us?”
A strange yet not unpleasant sensation swirled low in her belly, and the pulse between her legs ramped to blistering demand. She could keep the dream to herself. Never say a thing and let it slide.
Or she could take a chance.
She licked her lower lip. “We were intimate.”




About the Author:


Rhenna Morgan writes for the same reason she reads—to escape reality.

A native Oklahoman with two beautiful girls and a fantastic husband, her resume reflects her passion for new experiences. Since graduating with a Bachelors in Radio, Television, and Film at Oklahoma State, she’s racked up positions ranging from on-air radio talent, skip tracer, and promotions director, to real estate agent, project manager, and business analyst.

Like most women, she’s got obligations stacked tight from dusk to dawn. That’s where the romance comes in. Reading, or writing, romance has been her happy place since she cracked the spine on her first Christine Feehan book years ago. Nothing thrills her more than the fantasy of new, exciting worlds, and strong, intuitive men who’ll fight to keep the women they want.

Whether it’s contemporary, paranormal, or fantasy you’re after, Rhenna’s stories pack romantic escape for the women who need it.



https://twitter.com/rhennamorgan (@RhennaMorgan)