Saturday, December 10, 2016

Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Giveaway Party!

Welcome to the #PNR and #UF Giveaway Party!

Who’s ready for a giveaway you can get your hands on? A bunch of authors got together to bring your this Big Box of Paperbacks Giveaway! One lucky winner is going to win SIXTY-TWO (62) Paperback Books! How’s that for an epic Book-Lover’s Prize?! If you are a fan of Urban Fantasy, Dystopian Fiction, or Paranormal/SciFi Romance, you’re going to want to get in on this! The best part is that even if you don’t win, you’ll be subscribed to the sponsoring authors newsletters for a chance to grab some freebies, snag some special offers, and enter more giveaways!

Here are a couple of sneak peeks!

Excerpt from Foxblood: A Brush with the Moon by Raquel Lyon

The funeral was a typically sombre affair, alive with soggy tissues and streaky make-up. I stood at the back, letting the vicar’s voice wash over me, and spent the whole time staring at the flower-laden coffin, wondering if the lid would suddenly flip up and a fanged monster would escape to reap its vengeance on the congregation.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen, and as the mourners dispersed in the direction of the pub, I quietly snuck off home. I wasn’t in the mood for crowds and needed time to think, time to try to make sense of at least something, but as I turned to close the door, it was obstructed by a perfectly polished black shoe that belonged to…

“Sebastian?”

“Seb, please,” he said, easing his way through. “Only my father calls me Sebastian.” He checked down the backstreet and closed the door securely. His eyes scanned the flat. “Nice place.”

“I like it.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Living over a funeral parlour?” he asked.

“Why would it? The neighbours are quiet.”

He didn’t laugh at my joke; neither did he comment. He simply stood silently, staring. It was very unnerving and made my legs go all wobbly. Perhaps if I turned away from him, he’d disappear again? It was worth a shot. I forced my jelly legs over to the front window and stared out at nothing in particular. The light was subdued, and the sky had darkened to an air force grey. A low mist was beginning to carpet the distant fields, and I wondered if snow had been forecast.

I knew my little experiment hadn’t worked. He was still there. I could feel his presence and smell his scent, a musky, inviting aroma that filled my senses and sent my head into a whirl, and it was getting stronger.

“Your friends interrupted us the other day. Can we talk now?” he whispered softly into my neck, and his fingertips traced a fiery trail down my spine.

“What’s the point? There’s nothing to say. I wish you’d just leave me alone,” I said, lowering my head in time to see Lara leaving the newsagents. She glanced up with a look of fury contorting her face as Sebastian’s hands reached around either side of me and grabbed the window frame.

“I can’t do that. I’m not that strong,” he said.

I studied the arms now imprisoning me, with their perfectly formed muscles straining against the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt, and seriously doubted his statement. His stance was predatory and made me feel uncomfortable. I ducked under his elbow to escape, but he caught me around the waist and pulled me against him. Our bodies moulded together perfectly, and the strength of his grip made me feel like a china doll that he’d be able to crush in an instant. He was almost a full head taller than I was, and the warmth of his breath caressed my forehead. How easy it would be to reach up and taste those lips. I imagined the feel of them, and my own parted in an involuntary invitation.



The full Foxblood series can be seen here: http://foxifae.wixsite.com/raquellyon



Autumn Winters, Realm Watchers Book 1 by J. S. Malcom

The rain has stopped, but fog crept in while I sat in Rory’s. I walk through that fog now, the streetlights casting cones of luminescence that capture swirling mist. I should go straight home, but I really want a bottle of wine. J.J.’s Market is only two blocks off and I walk toward neon signs advertising beer and cigarettes, drawn like a moth. Not long ago, I was newly married, looking forward to finishing my MFA in Design with the hope of someday starting my own business. I barely drank and rarely got drunk. Now, I’m wandering around out here at night trying to avoid ghosts and unwilling to go home without alcohol because I’m afraid I won’t sleep. My eyes start to prickle and I wipe the back of my hand across my face.

And, no, I’m not alone. I can’t hear her behind me—her steps will never make sound again. All the same, I feel her there and soon she walks beside me.

“Hello?” she says.

I keep walking. God, it breaks my heart but I don’t want her next to me.

“Can you hear me?”

Yes, I can hear you. I say nothing.

One block to go and maybe I’ll just uncork that bottle right in the store. With any luck, she’ll veer off and find some other lucky person to latch onto.

“I really need your help.” Her breath hitches as her voice rises in pitch. She’s also crying and I just can’t ignore her—it’s not about me anymore.

I slow down, then stop. I wipe my eyes, realizing that she’s not the only one crying.

“Are you okay?” she says.

Seriously? Things have gotten that bad?

I take a deep breath to calm down. “I’m fine. Okay, I’m lying but I can deal with that later. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m not dead,” she says.

I turn to look at her. No, she doesn’t look dead but many of them don’t. Not to me, anyway. Some are more translucent while others appear basically the same as you and me, give or take the glow around them. That’s not guaranteed either. People are all different, whether dead or alive. One of my new theories is that we all start out as “dead” before becoming “alive” again. Like a lightbulb switching on and off again here in this realm. I think it’s a circular system. It seems an efficient use of energy. In this theory, ghosts are glitches. But this girl next to me isn’t interested in hearing about my theories, which change daily anyway. She just wants to know what’s going on.

I really don’t want to go there right now but I’m stuck in this situation. I look at her young, beautiful face. Trusting eyes stare back at me.

“I’m really sorry,” I say. “Did it happen fast? Was it a car crash or something?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what happened.”

I don’t want to take it to the next level but, evidently, I have no choice. “Did you commit suicide?”

That happens a lot too, I’ve come to learn. Suicide is a big one for getting you grounded. You cause that kind of pain and you just can’t move on.

She shakes her head again. “No. Please, that isn’t what happened.”

I think for a moment, hesitating because I hate the dark stuff. I really don’t want to know if she was murdered.

“I’m not dead,” she says. “I swear. They took my body!”




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Friday, December 9, 2016

Ares Blog Barrage, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Ares, book 1 in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot new paranormal romance series, Guardians of Hades, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release of Ares and Megan’s romance, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY and sharing sneak peeks of the book.

Enter the ARES international giveaway (ends December 11th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate by using the Rafflecopter form at her website, where you can also download a 4 chapter sample of the novel: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/guardians-of-hades-ares-paranormal-romance-book.php

Here’s more about the book and the sexy Greek god hero and his heroine…



Prince of the Underworld and Lord of Fire, Ares was banished from his home by his father, Hades, two centuries ago and given a new duty and purpose—to keep our world and his from colliding in a calamity foreseen by the Moirai.

Together with his six brothers, he fights to defend the gates to the Underworld from daemons bent on breaching them and gaining entrance to that forbidden land, striving to protect his home from their dark influence. Caged by the manifestation of his power, held apart from those he loves by his own fire and starved of physical contact, Ares lives a cold existence driven by duty and the desire to return to his world.

Until his world collides with a daemon who steals his power and a mortal female who shatters the ice around his heart and awakens the true fire within him—a soul-stirring passion both dangerous and seductive.

Megan has wandered far from her home, driven from everyone she loves by the devastating realisation that she is different to them all. Unsure who to trust in the world, she keeps to herself, until a fateful stormy night brings a temptingly handsome warrior crashing into her life and into her heart—a warrior who seems to hold powers more frightening and marvellous than her own.
When the New York gate comes under threat, and Ares is put to the test, will he choose his duty and regain the power he needs in order to save his world or will he choose the desires of his heart and sacrifice his fire so he can be with the woman becoming his whole world?

ARES is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer at: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/guardians-of-hades-ares-paranormal-romance-book.php


ARES – Excerpt
What in the gods’ names was that smell and where was it coming from?

His body tensed, every inch of him going rigid in response to the delicate scent of evening sunshine and night flowering jasmine.

Every inch.

His eyelids slipped to half-mast and he drew in another slow breath of it, holding it in his lungs and savouring it. He had never smelled anything so sweet and tempting.

He had never smelled anything so feminine.

His dark gaze scoured his apartment. There was a faint sense of familiarity about the scent. It conjured an image in his mind of a beautiful brunette, her shoulder-length hair hanging in delicate wet ribbons that framed her face, a stark contrast against her clear pale skin. Luminous brown eyes had looked at him with heat and stirred a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

He had felt protective of her.

He frowned, his dark eyebrows pinching together. He had protected her. The daemon had unleashed his power on her and Ares had grabbed the slender woman and pulled her into his arms, holding her nestled close to his chest. She had been so small and slight in his embrace, curled against him, her heat making his heart thunder.

It thundered now.

Was it just the lingering scent of her on his clothes that he could smell?

He couldn’t remember the last time he had noticed the scent of a woman. Had he blocked out their tempting smell, rendering himself immune to their presence so he didn’t suffer as much? The past two centuries had been difficult, especially when some of his brothers had been with women. Seeing them happy and sated when he couldn’t have a woman of his own because the manifestation of his power meant that he would hurt them had killed him.

Ares looked down at his hands.

He didn’t have his power now.

The cold returned, fiercer than before, engulfing him and stealing away all the warmth he had felt on catching the lingering scent of the beautiful woman. He had always hated how his power had become a physical part of him when they had reached the mortal world. Only Daimon could understand how he felt and he shared his longing to be like their other brothers and have a power they could control, one that didn’t constantly flow only millimetres from their skin.

A feeling worse than cold swept through him as he contemplated his power was no longer a problem. It no longer flowed over his skin. No longer answered his call. It was gone. He was empty. No longer himself.

He inhaled with the intention of sighing and stopped when he caught a stronger lungful of evening sunshine and sweet jasmine.

His couch creaked.

Ares swallowed hard to wet his dry throat and edged forwards, the smaller towel clutched in both hands in front of his stomach. His heart beat hard against his chest, pounding out a rhythm that matched his fast breathing. He peered over the back of his red couch.

There was a woman on it.

The woman.

His eyebrows rose and his fingers shook. He stared at her, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Why was she in his apartment? He thought back to seeing Daimon and Esher in the alley. They must have brought the woman with them.

Ares moved closer, until his thighs hit the back of the couch and he couldn’t get any nearer to her, and cocked his head to one side as he stared down at her. She was beautiful even in sleep, her face soft and hair wavy as it spread across the red cushion. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. The scent of her caused a hard ache to start up in the centre of his chest, behind his breastbone, and he trembled. Nothing in this world or the Underworld, or even Mount Olympus, smelled as sweet and divine as this woman. She was everything feminine and sensual. His lips twitched into a smile and he drew in another breath of her, until she was all that he knew.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, studying her as she slept, shaking right down to his bones with the undeniable need to gaze upon her.

To touch her.

Could he touch her?

The thought that he might be able to pushed at his restraint, forcing away his fears and doubts. He breathed hard, chest heaving, struggling with his raging desire as it slipped beyond his control. He needed to touch her, not just because his power was gone and he might be able to.

It was more than that.

He recalled everything about her from last night, from the moment he had first set eyes on her to the rage that had rushed through him when Daimon had tried to touch her. He growled low in his throat, a possessive snarl that shocked him. He had wanted her then, before losing his power, and he only wanted her more now. She was beautiful, brave. She had protected him even though she was weaker than the daemon. She had put herself in danger without pause or hesitation.

He had to have her.

She had to be his.

Heat suffused every inch of him as his gaze lingered on her, devouring her beauty. If he still had his power, right now, he would be in danger of setting fire to his belongings for the millionth time.

He had never burned so hot before, hungered so deeply.

Ares swallowed again, skin prickling and heart pounding. Would he hurt her if he touched her? He managed to prise the fingers of his right hand open and lowered it towards her. His breathing accelerated, racing faster than his heart, and he tried to steady himself. His gaze zeroed in on her bare arm. It looked soft and satiny. Tempting.

Inviting.

Would it feel as smooth beneath his fingers? He inched his hand towards her, his arm shaking. What if he hurt her?

His shoulders and chest heaved with his laboured breathing as he fought to bring it under his control. He ghosted his hand along her arm, holding it bare millimetres away from her. He ached to touch her but his courage failed him. He couldn’t risk hurting her. In the alley, he had felt a deep need to protect her. It gripped him again now, stronger than before.

He ran his gaze over her and it settled on her hands. Small, delicate, as beautiful as the rest of her. He frowned and caught a flash of them on his chest. He pressed his other hand to it, reliving how she had touched him and how good it had felt to have her palm against his flesh. She had touched him. He trembled with the need to touch her too. He hadn’t hurt her last night. He wouldn’t hurt her now.

It dawned on him that there was a beautiful woman in his apartment and if he touched her, she would wake.

Cold trickled down his spine and his eyes shot to his bedroom and then around his living room and the open kitchen. It was a complete mess. He couldn’t risk waking her by touching her and letting her see this. Gods. For the first time in his life, Ares wished he had listened to Keras about something. He should have hired a maid service.

He strode into his bedroom and kicked all the clothes on his floor into a pile. He bundled them up into his arms and then stopped, unsure what to do with them. He stared at the oak door to his closet and teleported there, shoved the sliding door open and tossed his clothes inside. He slid the door closed and teleported into the living room, glad that he still had this ability. He and his brothers called it stepping. One thought and one step, and they could move from this side of the world to the other.

He quickly stacked all the pizza cartons and takeout boxes and stepped to the kitchen. He didn’t have anywhere to put them and settled for neatly arranging them on the black granite breakfast bar. It was the best he could do without leaving the apartment.

He didn’t want to leave the apartment.

He glanced at the couch and the woman sleeping there. The skimpy dark rose top she wore drew his attention to her breasts and sent his blood pumping. He stepped again, appearing behind the couch this time, and looked down at her.

Now he would touch her.

He stared down at her, instantly entranced again. Would she feel soft? Warm? Cool? He wanted to know.

He drew in a fortifying breath and leaned over her, determined to touch her this time. He had to know how she felt and needed to see if he could touch her without harming her. He lowered his right hand towards her arm again and then moved course, heading towards her face, his need to touch her cheek too strong to deny.

She stirred before he could muster the courage to touch her, rolling onto her back and sighing. Her warm breath puffed against his hand and he had to grab the couch to steady himself. Even that small contact between them was too much for him. Her eyes fluttered and he snatched his hand back.

She was still a moment and then her eyes slowly opened and she frowned at her surroundings, and then looked up at him with soulful brown eyes.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he whispered, shocked by how breathless he sounded.

Her lips parted, soft and full, alluring.

How long had it been since he had kissed a woman?

More than three centuries.

She looked dangerous as she lay on his couch, her warm eyes soft with sleep and hair mussed and crying out for him to tangle his fingers in it and pull her up to him for a long hard kiss.

She blinked slowly, long black lashes shuttering her beautiful eyes, and then smiled.

His heart thumped.

His breathing stuttered.

He had never felt so weak and defenceless.

He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted her.

And he would have her.

She would be his.



ARES is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback.

Find all the links, a fantastic 4 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/guardians-of-hades-ares-paranormal-romance-book.php


Books in the Guardians of Hades paranormal romance series:
Book 2: Valen – Coming in 2017

About Felicity Heaton:

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, her best-selling Her Angel romance series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm romance series or any of her stand alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try her Vampire Erotic Theatre romance series. Or if you like hot-blooded alpha heroes who will let nothing stand in the way of them claiming their destined woman then try her Eternal Mates series. It’s packed with sexy heroes in a world populated by elves, vampires, fae, demons, shifters, and more. If sexy Greek gods with incredible powers battling to save our world and their home in the Underworld are more your thing, then be sure to step into the world of Guardians of Hades.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:




Liliana Batchelor Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Liliana Batchelor: The Complete Series
Holly Blackstone
Publication date: November 25th 2016
Genres: Erotica, Romance


A seemingly inconsequential decision at an intersection.

Just one moment – a pause, a choice.

And in a split second everything changes.

Liliana had no idea that something so simple would alter two lives forever, or lead to a series of events that plunge her headlong into corporate intrigue and a passionate romance.

Now presented in one volume for the first time – all five books in the Liliana Batchelor Series. From the windswept coast of Scotland to the grey days of autumn in the Pacific Northwest, read Lily’s incredible journey of self discovery as she finds herself drawn up into an epic love affair with intense and demanding CEO Stuart Watson.


NOTE: This contemporary erotica series contains explicit depictions of sex, including BDSM, as well as a few instances of violence or attempted assault.

Books included:
“An Accidental Affair”
“Step Across the Rubicon”
“The Air I Breathe”
“Banish the Darkness”
“Step In To the Light”
An excerpt from “A World Away”, book one in Holly’s fantasy erotica series.



EXCERPT

Lily barely has time to compose her thoughts before he closes the distance. Her stomach has that gnawing, achy emptiness to it – a telltale sign that she is attracted to him. She is completely floored seeing him here.
Even with her nearly three and a half inch heels he is still over four inches taller by her estimation. She looks up into his bright blue eyes as he steps close.
“Liliana, an absolute pleasure,” he says, taking her right hand and bringing it to his lips. She nearly swoons from the contact; it is so unexpected and intimate, and his lips are soft against the top of her hand. He holds on a moment and releases his grasp and her arm floats down to her side. Lily feels as if she must be levitating off the ground.
“Stuart… My goodness,” is all she can muster. He smiles a little at having rendered her practically speechless.
His eyes carefully play over her body. “If I may say so, you look lovely this evening.” God, but his Scots accent is sexy; not too overpowering, but the trilled r’s are hot.
“Thank you. I’m glad to see you up and around.” Couldn’t think of anything better to say?
“Yes, almost as good as new, except for a little residual soreness.” He holds up his right hand.
“How did you get out of that cast so quickly? I thought you tore a tendon or something.”
“Reconstructive surgery, physical therapy.”
“But still, that should have taken months.”
“I can be very determined,” he says in a meaningful way, staring straight at her.
Lily inwardly gulps. “Apparently.” Luckily she is saved by a passing waiter proffering more champagne. Stuart removes the near empty glass from Lily’s hand, puts it on the tray and retrieves two glasses, handing her one.
He holds out his hand and tips the glass until it touches hers. “To finally meeting under auspicious circumstances,” he says and drinks. She pauses a moment and then raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip. Suddenly, everything has changed; how did this happen? He walks into a room and she becomes flustered, nervous, flushed.
“Stuart, I’m surprised to see you here.” He raises an eyebrow quizzically, his eyes dancing playfully. “I’m glad,” she hurriedly adds, “but surprised.”
“I still spend a fair amount of time in Scotland. I had some… business to take care of locally and hoped you wouldn’t mind if I dropped in, knowing you would be here. You don’t mind, do you?”
It is wholly unfair. He has surprised her, has a definite advantage and they both know it.
He had been watching her from the moment she entered the ballroom, waiting for an opportune moment, studying her. When she had walked into his hospital room there seemed to be a sensual air about her, but he tried to pass it off as the drugs, circumstances.
Watching her move, sip her champagne and savour the food, he realised it hadn’t been the circumstances at all; it was her, and what made it even more powerful was that it wasn’t forced. It was simply who she was, and she exuded it from her pores; it was in all she did. From the way her long fingers found the stem of her glass to the way her lips parted, it was wired into her and he found it incredibly sexy, utterly irresistible.
Her slight nervous discomfort at being caught off guard seems to increase her sensuality as she fidgets, playing her fingers along her glass, her lips pursing slightly as she tries to regain her composure.
Stuart’s gaze is intense and Lily feels a little flustered, and has a hard time meeting it; no man has ever affected her like this.
“What business are you in?” she asks, her hand nearly trembling as she lifts the glass to her lips and steals a look at him over the rim. She loves the Van Dyke; it makes his lips look even more sensual… as if he needs that. The tightly trimmed mustache accentuates the line of his top lip, then curls down to meet the goatee on his chin and the dark patch underneath his mouth makes his slightly fuller bottom lip appear more pronounced. She inwardly sighs; what a perfect mouth.
“I run my own business,” he says. “My father and his friend started it.” He knows others are staring at her. “Why don’t we find a quiet corner to talk?”
Her eyes get wide – she can’t help it – and she nods. He reaches out his left hand and cups her elbow and gestures to the far corner of the room. “Shall we?” Her body drinks in the sensation, his touch sparking a craving for more contact.
The combination of his well educated diction and slightly rough Scots enunciation is heady. He manages to seem intelligent yet a little dangerous at the same time. He was dressed like a rock star when you found him, her voice chimes in. Most powerful business owners don’t do that.
As they approach the table, Stuart lets go of her arm and pulls the chair out for her. She places her glass on the table, and smoothes her skirt as she sits, while Stuart pulls out another chair and sits kitty-corner to her. Lily crosses her legs; she’s grateful she packed something nice for tonight, and thank goodness she went downstairs. Take that, troublesome voice.
“Are you enjoying the conference?” he asks, taking another sip. She has a weakness for hands and his are strong, with long masculine fingers; she notices a Breitling watch around his wrist. Wow.
“Well, it just started today,” she says, finally overcoming a bit of her surprise and managing more sustained looks into his face. He is gorgeous; she doesn’t want to stare, but she could look at him all day. Here, in close proximity, she feels that hum of electricity around them like a cocoon. “But so far, yes.”
She takes another sip as he speaks. “I believe you said you were going to take a holiday afterwards?”
“Good memory,” she smiles, a little embarrassed. “I… thought with the injuries and drugs you probably hadn’t…”
“Remembered much? Remembered our conversation?” the tone is playfully accusatory. “Oh, I remember it very well, Liliana.”
She finds herself blushing a little and takes another sip of champagne. Be careful, you haven’t had much to eat all day.
“Not many people call you Liliana, do you mind?” he asks suddenly, softly. “Liliana just sort of rolls off the tongue, and it’s unique. I like it.”
Why did such a simple sentiment make her heart feel like it was trying to break out of her chest? Her mouth suddenly is dry.
“When are you going to tell me the rest of YOUR name?” she blurts out boldly.
“Soon. I’m just a bit… cautious.” Who was this man? A politician? No, he said he owned a business… why so cagey?
“Tell me what types of places you’re interested in visiting whilst here in my beautiful homeland, and I’ll be happy to offer suggestions.”
She takes a deep breath. Wow, his intensity – he just seems to exude power and confidence – nearly takes her breath away. She would never have guessed this when she was trying to comfort his unconscious form as he lay on the asphalt.
“Well, to be honest I haven’t made much in the way of plans. I anticipated doing a bit of research beforehand, but with the…” she fidgets, “… accident and all, and the bustle afterwards, well.” She feels like a schoolgirl with all the flushing and fidgeting.
He nods as she continues. “I do know generalities though.” Talking makes her feel a little more calm, although she worries about prattling on too much.
He looks amused, the corner of his mouth curled up and his lips slightly parted. Oh God, PLEASE don’t do that. She wonders what his lips would feel like on hers; they felt nice against the back of her hand. She shakes her head to clear her mind.
“What is it, Lily?” he leans forward and reaches out a hand to touch her arm; desire shoots through her body. “Is anything wrong?”
“No!” she says hastily. “Nothing is wrong. Where was I? Oh yes, places in Scotland…” she nervously catches her lower lip with her teeth and touches her tongue to her top lip, her mind churning.
He watches her mouth and then raises his eyes to hers. They are smoldering, full of desire. Oh my God, he’s attracted to me. If she had been standing she would have had to sit. Her insides are turned topsy turvy.
Her voice cracks slightly. “I’d like to visit some distilleries. Go see the rockiness of northern Scotland, perhaps the Isle of Skye, or Islay. Ruins…” her voice almost falters again; he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her, and the words are fleeing her as she is caught up in his gaze. “I love old ruins. Manor houses, castles…” It’s difficult to continue; she feels hypnotized by him, completely disoriented.
She is aware of a voice. “May I get either of you anything else to drink?” She shakes her head, the thrall he had over her broken. It seems like she is taking a breath for the first time in minutes. She should leave; Stuart is dangerous, being around him is too heady, distracting. She stands up to go. “I’m a bit tired, actually. I was thinking of heading out,” she uncharacteristically lies.
He puts his hand on her arm and she finds herself sinking slowly back into her seat. How did he do that? His touch is like life spreading through her body, all she wants is more.
“Surely you can spare a few more minutes Liliana?” He says her name as if he is making love to it, rolling it around in his mouth, tasting it. She sits, and he turns to the waiter.
“A bottle of La Grande Dame unopened, two glasses, and an assortment of the canap├ęs would be perfect.” He makes it a request, but something in his tone lets you know he fully expects you to deliver. What company does he own?, she wonders, not for the first time. He’s not arrogant, but you don’t want to disappoint him. He must be difficult to negotiate with.
The waiter nods in assent and leaves. Stuart turns his piercing eyes to her and smiles amiably. “Now, where were we?”

Author Bio:
Holly was born in New Jersey and moved to the Pacific Northwest at the age of eighteen. She's always loved writing and expressing herself and scrupulously kept a journal at a young age. She started her first book around the age of eight, although she never completed it, and in high school was co-editor of her school's literary magazine. She enjoys blogging, reading, and writing poetry and novels. Although an American, Holly is fascinated with British and Scottish history and culture; this interest is reflected in her choice to often use British spellings for words because she likes them better.
Holly likes exploring how a character's personality changes and adapts as they are introduced to new experiences that are challenging. She also enjoys creating worlds and tales that are deep and complex and are driven by a solid story, yet have intense erotic elements.
Much to her chagrin, Holly has many interests and has a hard time keeping up with them all. She enjoys cooking and has made wine with friends; she likes gardening, drawing, reading, video and board games, dancing, eighties music and yoga, to name a few of her more regular preoccupations.
She welcomes comments and questions at her website: http://www.hollyblackstone.com

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Thursday, December 8, 2016

A Viking Holiday Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway!

A Viking Holiday
The MacLomain Series
Viking Ancestors’ Kin
Sky Purington    

Genre:  Time-travel Fantasy Romance

Date of Publication:  November 29, 2016

ASIN: B01MAVTKH4

Number of pages:  120
Word Count:  35,000

Cover Artist:  Tamra Westberry

Book Description:

Having time travelers in your life isn’t always easy. Given that he’s said goodbye to several of them over the past few years, Sean O’Conner knows that better than most. Now his best friend Megan has returned from tenth-century Scandinavia to modern day Maine. Not only has she aged over twenty-five years, she hasn’t traveled through time alone. Her troublesome daughter Svala is with her.

Of dragon blood and proud to be Viking, Svala Sigdir has no use for the twenty-first century and makes it evident to all around her. Even so, she will protect her mother at all cost. Meanwhile, she needs a man. Sean to be exact. Despite his aversion, she is determined to make him hers.

Svala might be after him, but Sean wants nothing to do with her. At least that’s what he tells himself as the holidays arrive and he struggles to keep peace in what’s become a battleground instead of a festive Winter Harbor home. At his wit’s end, he finally calls on an old friend’s help. Or so he had hoped. Cast beneath the spell of a powerful Scottish wizard determined to protect his Viking Ancestors, Sean and Svala go on an unexpected yuletide journey. As it turns out, there’s only one way to break free from the spell. A life-altering choice that might very well cost Sean both his sanity and his heart.

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Excerpt

Svala wrapped her fur cloak around her shoulders and started to breeze past them as she eyed his crew mate. “So you’re New England’s finest, are you?”
“Naw.” Nick chuckled and nodded at Sean. “Most ladies think he is.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure about that,” she said before she started down the hallway.
“I don’t think so.” Sean grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “Nick, go make sure none of the guys head this way. Tell them I’m catching a rat or something.”
Svala winked. “Or a dragon.”
“Where you gonna hide her, Cap?” Nick kept grinning. “She don’t look like the type of woman who’ll keep hidden if she’s decided otherwise.”
Svala cocked a grin at Nick. “I think I like you.”
“I know I like you, beautiful,” he returned.
“Just make sure no one heads this way, Nick,” Sean reiterated. “And I’ll make sure Svala stays hidden.”
“I betcha will.” Nick chuckled as Sean pulled her toward the meager sleeping quarters.
“I am not staying down here.” Svala started to fight him. “I want to be on deck. I want to help you fish.”
“Hell, no.” Sean grabbed her before she could bolt in the opposite direction. “My men won’t be able to concentrate on work with you around.”
Her eyes met his. “Then you must not lead them well if they are so easily distracted.”
It felt as if the narrow hallway only grew smaller as her eyes pinned his…as he remembered with vivid clarity how she’d felt against him last night. “You know damn well the effect you have on men.”
“I did not dress in modern day clothes.” She pulled the cloak off her shoulders. “See, I am dressed like a Viking again.”
His eyes fell to the fur-trimmed, leather tunic. To her unmistakable curves. He swallowed and tore his eyes away. “What difference does it make? You’re still trouble.”
“Only when I dress like a modern-day woman, yes?” Svala cocked her head. “That is why you fought for me last night, is it not? Because you desired me in those clothes?” She frowned. “Now I am not wearing them. You will not desire me so they won’t either. There will be no trouble. You will not be ashamed of yourself.”
Sean had no idea what to make of her logic. “I’m not ashamed of myself.” But he had been when he overreacted last night. “And trust me, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You’re gonna distract my men.”
She didn’t press closer, but her words made the hallway seem even narrower as she murmured, “Am I distracting you now, Sean? Is that why you seem so convinced?”
When they hit a small swell, he braced his hand against the wall beside her head and bit back desire. “Just do as I ask, Svala. I don’t need any trouble, okay? Not with my men.” He ground his jaw. “This is my livelihood. Please don’t screw it up.”
Shockingly enough, Svala looked as though he’d slapped her. “That’s not why I’m here, Sean…” She trailed off, clearly upset before she gathered herself. “I just wanted to see you fish.”
“Commercial fishing isn’t like normal fishing.” He shook his head. “There’s not much to see, really.”
Except when the nets came up. That feeling of excitement and expectation before they found out how big a load they’d caught.
He had no idea what to make of the look on her face. She was vulnerable in a way he’d never seen her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, not sure what to say, still confused about why she hadn’t already traveled back in time. “Maybe I can take you out fishing another time?”
“Maybe,” she said softly, her eyes alarmingly gentle as she stepped close. “So how are you going to keep me entertained while you hide me away?”
Ah, there she was. The little Viking he knew so well. Except he wasn’t doing what he always had.
He wasn’t stepping away.
Something about having her on one of his boats, on his turf, on the high sea…was different. Somehow, though it was on his territory, they had found common ground. The sway of a ship. The pulse of the ocean beneath them.
“Sean,” she whispered, clearly sensing a crack in the wall he’d kept between them. Slowly, inch by inch, she unzipped his jacket. “If I understand things correctly, you aren’t needed for hours yet. Why don’t we fill in that time in a pleasurable way, yes?”



About the Author:

Sky Purington is the bestselling author of over twenty-five novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.

Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up with Sky's latest news and releases? Visit Sky's website, http://www.skypurington.com to download her free App on iTunes and Android or sign up for her quarterly newsletter. Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.

Website:   www.skypurington.com  






The Clothing Mogul Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway!


Trillionaire Boys’ Club: The Clothing Mogul
Aubrey Parker
Publication date: December 6th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
“You have to fall in love,” Alyssa suggests. And then, because she’s my publicist, she adds the key word: “Publicly.” 
My name is Ashton Moran, and I’m CEO of the $2.2 billion Hurricane Apparel company. You’d think that’d be enough, but it’s not. Not for Alyssa. She says my public image sucks. She says my being a womanizer is hurting Hurricane’s brand.

So she found this girl, Jenna, who I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with for the press. I’m not supposed to sleep with any other women for as long as this farce goes on. Only with Jenna — if she’s into it, which she will be.

I understand what Alyssa is trying to do by making Hurricane more “family friendly,” but … Me? In love? With only one woman?

There’s no way this is going to work. 
The Clothing Mogul is part of the Trillionaire Boys’ Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of one of the Club’s powerful members … and you’re going to want to collect them all.


EXCERPT

“Ashton? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He slides closer. “Not anymore.”
I turn to look at him. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing’s gotten into me.”
But it’s too much. Too weird. I sit up straighter. I watch his dark eyes in the sparse light filtering up from the street. “Don’t you want to …?”
“What?”
“Don’t you want to have sex?” For a second I’m embarrassed — ridiculous, given the things we’ve done.
“Very much.”
“Well?”
“I just wanted to take a moment.”
“Why?”
“To do without. As if you’ve denied me.”
“I’m not denying you.” The words stir something. My hair against my shoulder, bare but for the straps of my nightshirt, is like the brush of my lover’s fingers. I forget why I was put off by the idea that he’d come here and simply expect to fuck me.
This change is even stranger than the one at dinner. Stranger than the one I saw when he spoke to my father, deferring to the older man’s authority like a proper suitor. His lack of action is making me more aroused, not less. I want to be the aggressor. I want to take him all without asking.
“I know,” he says. “But you could.”
“Anyone can. What’s so special about denial?”
“You don’t know, Jenna. You can’t know what it’s like to be me. Everything is so hard at first, but at a certain point everything gets too easy. You’re the only person who challenges me, who pushes back, who made me work to have you.”
“I’m yours.” I lick my lips, finding control harder to summon. “You don’t have to work to have me anymore. We have a deal.”
“Don’t mention it. Don’t talk about our deal.”
“Why not?” I don’t understand. I’m uneasy, nervous.
“Because I’m sorry we made it. Too many lies to keep track of.”
“You mean the lies about us being together?”
“I mean the lies about how we’re not.”
I look down at him. He can’t mean what he seems to. His hand is at my breast. He’s stroking it idly, almost as if he doesn’t realize what it does to me. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t really know who I am anymore, Jenna. I thought I did, but tonight I found I was wrong. The old me would have been different. He would have lapped it all up. But I didn’t want to. It just made me angry. All I could think about, the entire time, was coming here.”
To my house? It’s so ridiculous.
“You’re Ashton Moran.” It’s such an empty thing to say, but some of the disorientation and confusion leave his expression. I don’t know if it’s what he honestly needs to hear, or if it’s more that he needs me, of all people, to say it.
“Am I? We’ve lied so much, I’m not sure. There’s the old story of Ashton Moran, and now there’s this new one. I’ve been in the new story for months now, but tonight I re-entered the old one. I didn’t feel comfortable in it, like I don’t know or like the old Ashton anymore. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because if I don’t like the old Ashton, it means I like being the new one instead. But the new one is a lie. The new Ashton doesn’t exist.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s all bullshit. Everything we’ve said in those interviews … bullshit.”
I look down. I don’t know what to say.
“Tell me it wasn’t all bullshit, Jenna.”
“I … I don’t know.”
“All I know is that tonight, I didn’t feel like myself. I didn’t like me or who I’d become. I only like myself these days when I’m here, in the belly of the lie.”
He raises my shirt and bares my breasts. He kisses them sweetly, one by one. His hand his on my leg, moving slowly, warming me.
Then his hand goes to the center of my chest. To my heart. It’s ironic — he made his billions manufacturing clothing that monitors vital signs, relaying them to an app. But right now the great clothing titan is feeling my vitals using only the biometric device of flesh and bone offered by God. A connection born not of Bluetooth, but skin to skin.
He comes to my lips and kisses them.
“Don’t deny me now.”


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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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Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Wrecked in Love Holiday Tour & Giveaway!



Wrecked in Love 
Book One
Roxanna Cross

Genre: BDSM, Erotic Romance, 
Mystery, Paranormal

Publisher: Extasy Books

Date of Publication: August 19, 2016

ISBN: 978-1-4874-0795-7
ASIN: B01KPPFGNK

Number of pages: 45
Word Count: 12265

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Book Description: 

Josephine Herveaux is haunted with guilt over the death of her cousin. The traumatic event from her youth left an empty void she has tried to run from for the past twenty years.

Derek Owens has fought to come to terms with the love triangle from his youth. An OCD Dom, the only place he feels in control is in the safe room he has constructed to deal with his turbulent emotions. The slim thread is shattered when Josephine returns to town.

The past brings Josephine and Derek together once again, but the ghost of Josephine’s cousin refuses to remain quiet. Can Josephine and Derek come to terms with her cousin’s death, or will the ghostly voice in her head drive her to insanity?

A compelling story that will leave you craving more answers….





A Winter Solstice Faith’s Restored.
By Roxanna Cross

Bryn tugs on the ash log and brings it in the house. December 21st, already… and she’s just now bringing in the Yule log. Her mother would have been ashamed. May the great Mother take care of her Spirit. She thinks as she places the log with the care it deserves in the fire pit next to the piece left behind from last year’s log. With hasty fingers, she decorates the beautiful wood with her mother’s favorite evergreens, douses it with cider and dusts it with flour as tradition calls. It’s ready. It’s time. So why can’t she strike the match and set it ablaze? And when did the tears start she wonders? 
“Here, let me.”
“Oh Shit. Finn, where did you come from?” She asks with her hand clutching her chest as if it would stop her galloping heart. “The front door,” he ignores her melodrama and pries the match out of her tight fist. He strikes its head against the rough edge of the brick fireplace. The acrid smell of its ignition, hits their nostrils. Finn bends down and sets the log ablaze. “There,” he says, “all set.” 
The tears quietly coursing down Bryn’s cheeks keeps pouring out of her as the flame brighten. This time Finn doesn’t ignore her dramatics and pulls her to him. “It had to be lit, Bryn. That’s why I took charge like that. Otherwise, you would’ve sat here all night… staring at a cold fireplace and a colder Yule log.” 
“I know.” She hiccups. “It’s just Mom always...” her throat constricts in pain. She knew the first Yule without her would be difficult. But, upholding the traditions is cruel somehow. Especially, since she’s not feeling the Winter Solstice spirit in her heart. “Do you want to talk about it?” Finn asks gently. “No.” A shiver runs down her spine and not solely at the thought of reminiscing. “Ok then, tell me what I can do to make you feel better, Bryn?” His eyes swim with sincerity. “Make me forget, please Finn.”
His thumb gently scoops away the tears. He presses his forehead to hers. His hot breath mixes in with hers. She knows what Finn is doing and it won’t work. She won’t back down from this. She won’t say no. Or stop. She’s given him his green light. Bryn patiently waits for him to take it; time to create new traditions. 
When he sees this is for real his mouth crashes down on hers and devours. She opens for him like a flower welcoming the light once more. His tongue is hungry. No time for sweet caress, it rolls with savage intent. Taking all she has to offer. His teeth nip and bite. His hands make quick work of her clothes, his clothes. They are everywhere on her body at once, or so it seems. His long fingers leave a trail of liquid fire everywhere they touch her skin. Her mind is in complete bliss—just what she ordered. 
A small whimper bubbles out of her when he wrenches his lips away from hers. “I’ve got you,” he purrs and moves his searing lips down her body to lick and nip her pussy. In one violent torrent she comes on his tongue. “That’s my girl.” He circles her clit gently and glides his tongue back up her body flicking it across her nipples before reclaiming her mouth in another bruising kiss. She loves tasting herself there. Loves it so much she can feel that ball of white fire building again in the pit of her belly. Finn’s large cock head teasing her slit. Up and down. Slow and steady. Not penetrating her. It drives her insane. “Say you’re my girl.” Finn commands. Is this what he needs to take me? “I am yours, Finn.” 
Magic words spoken, next to her brightly burning Yule log, he takes her hard and fast and she continues to ride the bliss he offers. Her faith in Winter Solstice forever restored.



About the Author: 

Roxanna is a mother of three teenage girls, a wife and she juggles a full time career all the while living in two worlds. Being a writer, a dreamer, a drifter gives her an outlet to calm the voices in her head. Her quirky, sarcastic sense of humor and easygoing, non-judgmental temperament shines through on the page, a knack that until a few years ago she wouldn’t let herself claim. When an editor selected her short story “Belted In” for Best Bondage Erotica 2014, then it hit her like a ton of bricks—she’d done it. Earned the title she coveted for so long, author. And it’s one she cherishes.  






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