Saturday, July 20, 2019

Book Blitz for Lineage


Lineage
C. Vonzale Lewis
Publication date: July 16th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
Smart-mouthed Nicole Fontane has a way of getting herself into trouble. She’s been fired from every job she’s had but still refuses to work in her father’s apothecary shop because of his practice of Earth Magick. On Tulare Island where Nicole grew up, Magick has always been a way of life—one she’s determined to avoid at all costs.
With less than two hundred dollars in the bank and rent due, Nicole is forced to take a job at Tribec Insurance as a last resort. Little does she realize, the moment she sets foot inside the building, she becomes a pawn. A sinister force has set its sights on her and will stop at nothing to use her in a sadistic game.
Tribec’s proprietors, the Stewart family, are curiously preoccupied with the Naqada, the mysterious pre-dynastic Egyptian society. Nicole finds it creepy, but on the bright side, the job reconnects her with her estranged friend, Marta. Yet the eerie atmosphere, disappearing Magick wards, and the smell of blood inside Tribec bring Nicole to a startling conclusion—the Stewarts are practicing Blood Magick, the deadliest of the Five Principles. By the time Nicole uncovers the truth, Marta and her four children have gone missing, and all signs implicate the Stewarts and an archaic blood ritual to an Old One, a Naqada god imprisoned on Tulare Island.
Battling the evil of Blood Magick will demand Nicole to confront a hidden past and unlock the Magick buried within. But can she set aside her deep-rooted fears to work with a team of vigilante Mages? Or will the clock run out on Marta and her children—and on Nicole?
CHAPTER ONE:
Looking for bright, responsible, career-oriented, self-motivated individuals who have excellent people skills and are able to take high volumes of calls while maintaining a positive attitude. Ability to work with others is a must.
I glanced down at the advertisement in my hand. I had none of those qualifications according to my last employer—and pretty much all my other previous ones as well. I was, however, a “foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, under-performing”—still didn’t understand that one—“sarcastic, waste of space.” Although, to be fair, only one of the previous employers actually called me a waste of space, and that was because I had stopped sleeping with him.
This unfortunate lack of options was the reason I stood in the parking lot of Tribec Insurance, smoking the last of my apple-flavored cigars—a habit I learned from my father—wearing a cream-colored dress suit and a pair of matching pumps. I couldn’t afford either of them, and I really hated pumps. But I needed the job, so I dressed the part of the career-oriented, self-motivated candidate the ad was searching for.
Most of the jobs in the area required a college degree, or at least several years of experience. I had no college degree, and the longest I’d ever been employed at one job was six months. Thankfully, Tribec Insurance was always hiring and had no such requirements—a rarity in the uptight community of Alice where Tribec was located.
Through a ring of cigar smoke, I took in the phallic structure that was Tribec Insurance. My eyes landed on the small, stone, pyramid-like shape at the top of the building. It reminded me of an Egyptian Obelisk—a symbol to the god Ra. The Egyptian word for it, “Tejen,” meant “protection” or “defense.”
Why would the occupants of Tribec Insurance erect a symbol of protection or defense on top of the building?
A slight breeze blew over my bare arms, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and stirring the beads of sweat that had formed on them. My new blouse had molded to my back, and my feet had started to sweat. I was generally used to Tulare Island’s oppressive heat, but the anxious jitters in my stomach had caused my skin to flush.
I tried to dispel the nervousness in my stomach. Despite the obvious, I didn’t want to show that I was desperate. My best friend Kara spent most of last night trying to prep me for the interview. She advised me to not ask annoying questions, make sarcastic comments, or let my disgruntled attitude show.
Essentially, she advised me to not be myself. There was a message in there somewhere, but I was choosing to ignore it.
Out of our original group in high school, Kara was the only one who was still in my life. The only one who actually gave a damn about me. Marta and I hadn’t spoken in years, and as for Steve… Well, it was a long time ago.
I glanced at my watch. Damn. I guess I had procrastinated long enough. I put out my cigar, grabbed my blazer from the front seat of my car, shoved the advertisement back in my overly large purse, and headed for the building. As I walked, I attempted to wrap my head around the fact that I was essentially asking Tribec Insurance to let me spend my days chained to a desk, listening to complaints from strangers.
Maybe I should look into prostitution. At least I’d enjoy the job.
Kara also told me to smile a lot, so I pasted one on, pulled open the glass door, and stepped inside. Only to stop dead in my tracks at the entrance.
The walls—painted a burnt gold color that reminded me of the sunset—were lined with Egyptian art. Four glass displays, filled with half-head replicas of deities and artifacts, sat in each corner of the room. Green foliage hung from black ceramic pots near the entrance and the elevator. Something was off about the elevator. It wasn’t stainless-steel. No, more like marble. Black marble with gold striations that, at first glance, appeared to be moving. Odd.
And everything, including the guard station—which sat sunken into the foundation in the middle of the floor—was set up in a spherical configuration. Directly behind the guard station was a set of mahogany double doors, with gold Egyptian hieroglyphs carved around the frame. They were also etched around the guard station.
Most people on Tulare Island either practiced one of the four principles of magick or knew someone who did. There was, however, a small group of people who, despite the evidence, still refused to believe in magick. They usually carried picket signs outside of herbal and occult shops, telling people they were going to burn in hell, not realizing they were actually practicing faith magick every time they went to church.
Judging from the set-up of the room, and even the obelisk on the top of the building outside, I could hazard a guess—more like an assumption—that the occupants of Tribec Insurance practiced magick.
Despite my assumption, I couldn’t figure out which of the four principles—earth, elemental, mind, or faith—the people at Tribec used. There was, however, a fifth principle—blood—that to my knowledge, no one practiced anymore. And sadly, I didn’t know enough about it to recognize any symbols associated with its practice. Yet, symbols from the other four were etched all over the walls. Odd. Especially since people only had the ability to practice one. Not all four.
If it was a job requirement for me to use magick, I was running the hell out of here. I would live in a cardboard box before I got involved with magick. And if I didn’t get a job soon, that was exactly where I’d be living. Especially since I refused to move back in with my parents. I had to grow the hell up sometime.
I moved farther into the lobby; the scent of desert sand wafted around me. It had that baked-on smell that emanated off the ground when the sun was at its peak. It was unusual, but the dรฉcor could explain the smell. Especially if they added sand to some of the displays for authenticity. The odor that was definitely out of place was the one directly underneath it.
Blood. It was faint. I could almost chalk it up to imagination. Almost. If it wasn’t so overpowering.
I moved forward cautiously, my heels clicking on the white-tiled floor, as I tried to pinpoint where the scent was coming from. But the farther away from the door I got, the less I smelled it. I turned and started back toward where I’d first detected the smell. A chair creaked, stopping me in my tracks. The space between my shoulder blades started to itch. I turned.
The guard behind the desk was watching me.
I stood there, debating whether or not I should just leave. Yes, I was desperate, but the smell of blood? Was I imagining it? I pulled in a deep breath, trying to find the scent again. Nothing.
Get it together, Nicole.
After a short pause, I shook myself mentally, and continued toward the guard station with the guard’s black eyes boring into me. Sizing me up.
“Can I help you, miss?” He rose to his feet and crossed his arms across his chest.
I placed him in his late twenties. He had a solid frame, close-cropped black hair, deep set black eyes, and no facial hair. The dark brown suit he wore looked as if it had been poured onto him. Had to be ex-military.
The gold tag on his shirt read “Oliver Strong.” It suited him.
“Yes, my name is Nicole Fontane, and I’m here for an interview with…” I set my purse on the counter, ignoring his pointed glare, and pulled out my tattered notebook. “…a Francine Delaporte at eleven.”
“Have a seat. I will call someone down to escort you.” He inclined his head in the direction of the red leather couch on the right.
“Okay, thanks,” I said as I mentally extended my middle finger. Everything about him rubbed me the wrong damn way.
I sat and placed my purse beside me on the couch—the damn thing weighed a ton—and picked up one of the brochures for Tribec Insurance. While I sat there leafing through it, another security guard walked up and blocked my view of the sun. Well, he would have if there had been one inside the building. This burly bastard had tree trunks for arms and a head that resembled a boulder. Did they chisel him from a mountain?
“Ms. Fontane?” the guard grumbled. It sounded as if his voice came from a gut full of rocks.
I stood, which put me at eye level to his massive chest and the name tag pinned to his shirt that read “Duncan Glass.”
Maybe when they hired their guards, they assigned them names as well.
“Yes.” I tried to push myself up a few inches more. I was already wearing three-inch heels, bringing my total height to five nine, yet this massive behemoth still towered over me.
“Follow me.” He spun around abruptly and led the way to the elevator.
I was tempted to salute him, or give him the finger—the damn bossy bastard.
Calm down, Nicole. You need this job.
Duncan pulled a card from his pocket and inserted it into a slot located on the right side. I guess that answered my question about the oddity of the elevator. Besides the strange composition, they didn’t have a call button. They sure did have a high level of security for an insurance company. Maybe they denied more claims than they approved. Greedy bastards.
When the doors slid open, Duncan extended his arm out. “Ms. Fontane.”
I stepped inside.
Once the doors were closed, he inserted his card into another slot, and a display lit up with a list of floors.
The number thirteen was among them.
I had once read somewhere that all older buildings either omitted the thirteenth floor or renamed it. It all stemmed from a superstition that the thirteenth floor was unlucky. I wasn’t superstitious, but I did find it interesting they chose to include it.
“They have a thirteenth floor,” I said.
“It comes after twelve.”
While I was no stranger to snide comments I really didn’t like others using them on me. Bastard.
A few moments later, the elevator doors opened and, thankfully, deposited us on the seventeenth floor. I followed Duncan to a set of offices in the center of the floor. He stopped at the first door in a row of three that faced the elevators. The silver name plate affixed to it read: Francine Delaporte. After he rapped on it three times, he planted his feet a few inches apart and placed his hands behind his back.
Maybe Duncan thought he was still in the military.
I took in the room while I waited. Cameras inside small black orbs dotted the ceiling. A hazy gray tint covered the windows, allowing minimal light to filter into the room. Industrial gray walls sported a few framed “inspirational” quotes that referred to “teamwork” and “having a positive attitude.” They even had the stupid “Hang in There” poster with a cat hanging off a wire.
Even the partitions that divided the employees’ desks were gray. The only break up in the ashen color were the fake wood desks.
It reminded me of a mental asylum.
The majority of the people in the office were women, with a few men thrown in here and there. Did they believe women were more suited to talking on the phone? Either way, everyone in the room was pasty, their eyes sunken in, wearing expressions that suggested they had given up on life. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were all former tenants of the asylum, dressed up in over-sized clothes and forced into the role of “employee.”
The fact that no one looked up when Duncan and I got off the elevator supported my theory. They just sat there in their little black chairs, talking into their headsets, all repeating what sounded like the same practiced spiel in monotonous tones, a few minutes behind one another. Like a rolling set of waves crashing against the most boring shore imaginable.
I turned back to Duncan. He still stood at ease in front of Francine Delaporte’s door. What the hell was taking this woman so long? My feet were killing me. Like an idiot, instead of breaking the shoes in after Kara left last night, I had curled up on the couch with a bottle of Samuel Adams, contemplating my limited options. My little pity party of one ended at midnight when I realized my only option was one I wasn’t willing to entertain.
As I switched my purse from my right shoulder to my left, I caught sight of a faint circular line drawn around the cubicles. I stared at the ground, unsure if I was seeing things, or if there really was a line drawn on the floor. I straightened and moved to the left, trying to follow it. As I stood there transfixed, someone brushed their frigid hand across my exposed neck.
Coldness raced down my spine, and the scent of sand filled my nostrils.
I whipped around.
Duncan was gone.
In his place stood a woman wearing a red paint suit. Given that she was at least five feet away from me with her hands down at her sides… Who the hell had touched my neck?
Francine extended her hand and smiled. “Hello. Ms. Fontane?”
I stepped forward, my legs suddenly weak, and took her hand. “Hi.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m Nicole Fontane.”
“I’m Francine Delaporte. Let’s get started.”  She let go of my hand and walked into her office.
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to warm the sudden chill that had settled there. I glanced around the room. The employees remained at their desks, staring rapt at their computer screens.
A cool breeze circled the room, pulling my gaze toward the ceiling. An air vent sat directly above me.
Before I entered Francine’s office, I glanced down at the floor. The markings were gone. Maybe I had imagined them. And maybe the air-conditioning explained the feeling of someone brushing their fingers across my neck.
Yes—for sanity’s sake, I was going to go with that.
Just my overactive imagination.


Author Bio:
My name is Carla Vonzale Lewis and I like my martini’s shaken…never stirred. I was born in Georgia but please don’t mistaken me for a Georgia peach. I’m more like a prickly pear. Speaking of being born, someone asked me recently if I remember my birth. And I have to say, yes, I do remember that handsy doctor pulling me out into the cold. Right Bastard!!!
Despite being born in the South, I grew up in the North. California to be exact. Every once in a great while we get to experience all four seasons. But mostly, it’s just heat. You should see our electric bill in the summer! I like the beaches, but not the sand. I enjoy being outside, but the sun gets on my nerves. Does it really need to send its death ray to a single spot on my skin! (I told you I was a prickly pear) And don’t get me started on the traffic.
The first part of my life, I worked in customer service. This line of work led to the discovery of my favorite drink, or, rather, several favorite drinks. I could list the many concoction but that would go on forever!
Needless to say, it wasn’t an easy job. But I did enjoy talking with people. And when it came time to develop my characters, I drew on those experiences.
I have a degree in Fashion Design. Don’t ask. The only thing I gained from those wasted two years of my life, is being introduced to the love of my life, Bobby. He is truly my rock.
Why do I write? Well my first book, LINEAGE, answered the question, “What does the big boss actually do all day?” I might have gone a little dark with my answer, but it was fun answering the question. But mainly, I love writing because it gives me power to create. And it also gives me the power to fix this broken world.
Truthfully, I’ve always loved the written word and the way a good book could take you to another place and time. Instead of hanging out in the lunchroom, I would go to the library and create stories or bury my head in a really good book.
I started writing my first novel in 2014 and 30 days later I had a collection of scenes that needed some serious revision. And that was where the fun came in. Over the course of several years my novel went through final draft after final draft until I finally came to…you guessed it, the final draft.
When I’m not writing, I enjoy reading, binge watching shows on Netflix, and trying to convince my husband that getting a dog is a wonderful idea.
And one day, I will discover how many licks it actually takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop.

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Friday, July 19, 2019

Fractured book blitz


Fractured
Elle Charles
(Fractured, #1)
Publication date: May 7th 2014
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
How do you learn to remember when you have forced yourself to forget?
How do you learn to trust when those who were meant to protect you failed?
Catering assistant, Kara Petersen, leads a quiet, monotonous life until a simple twist of fate changes everything.
The sparks fly when Kara meets handsome, enigmatic, Sloan Foster. Dominant in the boardroom and successful in the bedroom, he always gets what he wants – and he wants her.
Captivated by his charm and aloof confidence, Kara is drawn to him in a way she has never been to anyone before. Aware something isn’t quite right, and against her better judgement, she concedes his intense allure is too strong to resist and their innocent fling swiftly develops into something she could never have imagined.
But in this outwardly perfect world of wealth and glamour, all that glitters isn’t gold. And as the mystery behind the man begins to slowly unravel, so does her life.
Now, with her heart and trust on the line, Kara is learning more about herself than she ever thought possible, from a man who seemingly knows more than he should. And the memories she forced herself to forget, are the ones she now desperately needs to remember…
Fractured is the first gripping instalment of Elle Charles’ dark, contemporary, romantic suspense series. Featuring unpredictable plot twists and endearing characters, this sensual, compelling saga of enduring love, ceaseless passion and sacrifice will keep you turning pages until the very end!
Perfect for fans of Sylvia Day, E L James, Aleatha Romig and Helen Hardt.
Download your copy now and become addicted to a new series!
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Please be advised this book is not a standalone novel. It is the first in the Fractured series, and the story develops and unravels over the course of the first three books. Each book is full length (between 326 and 450 pages each) and must be read in order.
This is a dark contemporary romance novel. It contains sexual scenes and controversial subject matter (including triggers) that some may find upsetting. Intended for readers aged 18+
This novel is a new edition that has been re-edited and revised – 27 July 2018.
Get Fractured FREE!
The complete series:
    
CHAPTER ONE:
I slowly take in the room; clean lines of glass and dark wood, expensive fabrics and leather. Opulence seems to be a running theme here from what I can see. Rich shades of cream and brown finish the room beautifully. The whole place screams money and success, and it’s absolutely stunning. Suddenly, I realise why the man downstairs eyed me like shit; I don’t belong here, and neither does Sam. I bite down on my lip to suppress the panic rising up from the confines of my stomach.
Then the door clicks shut behind me.
I spin around, and my mouth dries out almost instantly, as I prepare myself to come face to face with the sneering, dirty bastard again.
Oh. Holy. Fuck!
It’s not the sneering, dirty bastard.
I wilt where I stand. My lungs actually stop operating momentarily, and my heart shudders like it has been finally shocked from a long, deep slumber. My whole body currently feels on fire for some unknown, inexplicable reason.
“I have already had my doctor take a look at her. She seems to be fine, just, well…she’s high.”
He folds his impressive, muscular arms over his equally impressive, muscular chest, and he leans back against the closed door. My eyes drop to his feet, and ever so slowly, work their way up his body. Tanned bare feet, long muscular legs and thick thighs, wrapped up in worn, faded blue jeans. The fitted white t-shirt encasing his torso does nothing to hide the perfectly defined ridges of his stomach, chest and shoulders. The outlines are more than visible underneath the stretched fabric. I gulp excessively, open-mouthed and speechless, at the faultless specimen of male perfection towering over me.
I stare up at him, my lips part and my eyes widen. His face is heavenly; beautiful, naturally bronzed skin, a strong, chiselled jaw, set under perfect cheekbones. His nose is straight and flawlessly proportioned. He has the darkest, yet clearest midnight blue eyes I have ever seen. In fact, I’m positive I have never seen such a colour before. He seems piqued by my stare, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
My hands clench at my sides in desperation, and my tongue slides over my bottom lip. All I can think about is running my hands over his sexy, slightly too long dark locks, while his tongue….
Oh my God! What the hell?!
A nervous feeling wells up in my stomach, twisting into knots deep in my gut. I place a hand over my belly, but the feeling shifts south and suddenly can I feel heat pooling at my core profusely. His eyes remain locked on mine, and I’m dying to rub my thighs together to alleviate the tension that is building immensely.
I chew my lip timidly. Is he aware of what I am doing and that he’s instigating it? He smirks a little. Of course, he’s aware! Look at him! Any woman would be brain dead not to want him. Even my asexual self is not immune, judging by the way my body is reacting to him.
He arches up an eyebrow over his stunning dark blue, now virtually black eyes. He is fully aware that I am shamelessly checking him out, amongst other things, while my poor friend is lying in pain only a few feet away. I mentally scold myself for such uncharacteristic behaviour. Yet I can’t help it, this man has ignited something in me. I can’t even begin to fathom where it is coming from.
I need to get out of here.
I need to get away from him.
Feeling painfully aware, I wrap my arms around my middle and shift from one foot to the other, desperate to eradicate these alien sensations bubbling copiously inside my body. He remains motionless watching me, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable under his roving eye. The way he’s studying me makes me want to run for cover. I don’t know what it is, but there is a familiarity in his eyes that is unmistakable. I also don’t misinterpret the ghost of a smile forming on his lips.
Somewhere, I think I have seen him before.
“Thank you,” I whisper, averting my eyes, desperately trying to control the heat my body is emanating. I don’t know what else to say. All words have left me, and for the first time in my life, I actually feel something that I can definitely say I have not experienced previously.
Sexual attraction.
It is something that no man has ever elicited in me, not even come close to.
Well, maybe once, many years ago.


Author Bio:
Elle was born and raised in Yorkshire, England, where she still resides.
After many years of putting aside her creative ideas, in 2012, she was inspired to write again. The surprising result was her debut, contemporary romance novel, Fractured. The first of the series, books two and three, Tormented and Liberated, followed in close succession, along with the accompanying novella, Aftermath.
A self-confessed daydreamer, she loves to create strong, sexy and diverse characters, cocooned in opulent yet realistic settings that draw the reader in with every twist and turn until the very last page.
A voracious reader for as long as she can remember, she is never without her beloved Kindle. When she is not absorbed in the newest release or a trusted classic, she can often be found huddled over her laptop, tapping away new ideas and plots for forthcoming works.

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I Poisoned Her Coworkers book blitz


I Poisoned Her Coworkers
Jessica Frances
(Love at First Crime, #6)
Publication date: July 15th 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
I poisoned her coworkers, so she injected me with a lethal dose of unrequited love.
In the past we had it all.
Or at least, we seemed to.
Then I let her down.
We both made mistakes.
We fell apart.
But no matter the years which passed us by,
I never forgot about her.
So when my brother falls headfirst into trouble,
I know who to call on.
I know she will help me.
Even if she wishes I would disappear from her life.
Even if she hates me.
But I won’t give up this time without a fight.
I will do everything in my power to win her back.
There might be some stumbles along the way…
Like an accidental poisoning for example.
But I won’t let that stop me.
Through gunfire and car chases,
I will make sure she knows she can rely on me.
We’re in this together,
Forever and always.
Who cares if things don’t get off to a great start?
What does it matter that her coworkers think I’m dangerous?
Is almost killing them worth throwing away what we have?
Then again, as some people say: there is nothing quite like love at first…crime.
EXCERPT:
“Well I never knew a thing about you. Not what was important, anyway,” she grumbles, although I hear her perfectly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, unable to rein in my anger. I made a bad choice, a mistake at the end of our relationship. But that doesn’t change what we shared before it, or that I never lied to her. I was always who I said I was.
“You know what that means,” she retorts, not letting up one ounce on her own anger.
I glare ahead, watching the slow-moving cars and scenery around us as I take in a few needed deep breaths.
I don’t want to fight with her, and it’s clear she’s looking for a fight with me.
“How’s your sister?” I ask just to change the subject.
“No,” she immediately snaps. “You don’t get to ask me that.”
The fury in her voice is clear, and obviously it has not been abated since Gemma first saw me.
“I loved her, too. She was like my own sister—”
“And that makes what you did even worse!” she cries, much to the pain of the two in the backseat, if their moans are anything to go by.
There’s no room for argument in her tone, not that I heed the warning that this won’t be a fight I’ll win.
If she wants a fight then she’ll have one.
“I made a mistake. I thought—”
“I know what you thought. You were wrong.”
“I’m human, Gem.”
“We’re all human. What we truly are is our decisions. You made one that defined who you are. Now you have to live with that.”
Her words cut me, but I can’t blame her. I did make a decision, and it was the wrong one. But people make mistakes. The world isn’t so black and white, and once upon a time Gemma used to see the world in colors.
“I’m sorry—”
“It’s my sister who needs to hear those words, not me. Words from you mean nothing to me.”
I slam my mouth shut, trying to bite back the words, but they tumble out of me anyway.
I always did have a problem keeping quiet when I should.
“I didn’t realize you were so damn perfect. Must be nice to never make mistakes.”
She slams on her brakes harder than needed as we find ourselves stuck in the thick Chicago traffic. She turns her heated glare on me.
“I have made mistakes. Loving you was clearly one of them. But I’ve thankfully learned from my mistakes and I’ll never repeat them,” she harshly tells me.


Author Bio:
Jessica lives in Adelaide, South Australia. When she is not writing, you can find her reading, napping or watching excessive amounts of TV. Connect with her on Facebook and Goodreads.



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Thursday, July 18, 2019

Summer Bucket List book blitz


Summer Bucket List
T.K. Rapp
Publication date: July 15th 2019
Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Recently graduated from high school, Holland Monroe had no expectations for her last summer before heading off to college to be anything but ordinary.
Until she got a job as a waitress at the local country club to make extra money for school.
Milo Davis was smart, cute, and absolutely not interested in Holland. At least that was what she believed. But the day she started working at the restaurant, everything changed.
Finally together, they were left with only three months to spend time together before she moved away.
Good thing they decided to make their time as memorable as possible.
But will they remain friends? Or will checking off items on their summer bucket list lead them to something they didn’t expect — Falling in love.
EXCERPT:
He took a tentative step toward me and I remained fixed in place. Curiosity would not let me walk away, though that was exactly what I wanted to do. He stood across from me, the annoyance and disgust erased from his face. Milo shoved his hands into his pockets and when he looked up at me, he looked—uncertain.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you,” he finally said.
“You don’t seem to have a problem now,” I snapped. “In fact, I sort of wish you’d go back to ignoring me.”
“If that’s what you want…”
“No, Milo, that’s not what I want. I want to understand.”
“You’re not really that naรฏve, are you?”
“Forget it,” I said, turning around to walk back to my car.
“I never talked to you because I didn’t know how to,” he said, but I kept walking. “Because I liked you.”
That was the thing he said that got me to stop moving. In fact, I was pretty sure that I heard him wrong, so I slowly turned around to give him my attention. I didn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t know how to talk to you without sounding like a moron, so I just…didn’t…talk. You really didn’t know?”
“You said it yourself: you didn’t talk to me. So your silence spoke volumes for you.”
“I wasn’t trying to be a jerk the other night. I just didn’t know what to say to you.”
“I didn’t know what to say to you either. Every time I’ve tried to talk to you, it’s like talking to a brick wall. No matter how hard I try or how nice I am to you, you just ignore me.”
“That was never my intention,” he said apologetically. “I really just didn’t know what to say.”
We stood in silence, each really hearing the other. His confession began to ring in my ears, and I was thankful for the darkness so he would not see my flushed cheeks.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“Which part?”
“That you liked me?”
He shifted his stance before facing me again. “Yeah. I did…I do.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Milo was completely opposite of Blake, or anyone else I had dated. He was not the center of attention, and he was not cocky. He was shy and unassuming, and for so long I had wanted to get him to open up and let me be his friend. I never expected him to open up so much that he would reveal that he had feelings for me.
“If you aren’t busy, do you want to go get something to eat? Maybe we could actually talk or something?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” I asked.
He looked away for a moment, and when his gaze connected with mine, his smile grew. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
I felt nervous and excited at the same time, and then complete disappointment.
“I can’t. Not tonight,” I said.
“No. It’s fine. Short notice and all. Hell, you might be dating someone anyway.”
“I’m not,” I said a little more eagerly than I realized.
“Maybe another time,” he said, taking a few steps backward. “Have a good night, Holland.”
As he turned around, I slowly did the same, but then my feet stopped moving.
“Do you want to come with me?” I asked hopefully. “To Meg’s?”


Author Bio:
T.K. Rapp is a Texas girl born and raised. She earned a B.A. in Journalism from Texas A&M and it was there that she met the love of her life. He had a contract with the U.S. Navy that would take them across both coasts, and ultimately land them back home in Texas.
Upon finally settling in Texas, T.K. worked as a graphic designer and photographer for the family business that her mom started years earlier. She was able to infuse her creativity and passion, into something she enjoyed, but something was still missing. There was a voice in the back of her head that told her to write, so write, she did. And, somewhere on an external hard drive, are several stories she started and never finished.
Now at home, raising her two daughters, T.K. has more time to do the things she loves, which includes photography and writing. When she's not doing one of those, she can be found with her family, which keeps her busy, hanging with family and friends, and mostly relaxing. She is a lover of raunchy humor, gossip blogs and a good books.

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A Game of Sins book blitz


A Game of Sins
Zurie Brunelle
(My Wicked Prayers, #1)
Publication date: June 30th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Kenzie Adams wasn’t expecting to fall for Luke Bennett, the young, sexy priest-in-training. When she propositioned him it was for just one night in the Game of Sins.
Kenzie’s new college roommates at St. Theresa’s, an all-girl’s Catholic college, invited her to join them in a competition, handed her a scorecard, and explained that there were points for every sin they convinced the priests-in-training at the adjoining school to make.
Luke Bennett was just to be the first conquest, not the only man she can touch.
But Father Luke teaches her the power of obedience, and the pleasure at the edge of pain. He knows how to make her crave every sin, and soon Kenzie’s scorecard is forgotten. Luke plans to be a man of the cloth, but right now he is the answer to Kenzie’s every wicked prayer.
When her father discovers her fall from grace, Kenzie’s future comes rushing to the present in the shape of a forced engagement to a sexy young lawyer, Bastian, who has demanded Kenzie as a “signing bonus” for selecting her father’s firm. Torn between the priest she loves and the lawyer she will marry, Kenzie tries to find a way to get both what she needs and what she wants.
Kenzie, Luke, and Bastian’s story will continue in the book 3. Her roommate Astrid’s Wicked Prayers will pick up in book 2.
Intended for readers 18+. Book 1 in the series.
EXCERPT:
“What if I wasn’t that nice?” It was a strange kick to be thought of as nice. My own family thought of me as a slut. They didn’t say the word, but it was obvious my father was thinking it.
I wasn’t sure I disagreed, either. Maybe I’d have been different in a different life, but I liked sex. I liked the illusion of power that it gave me. My life was utterly out of my control. I liked moments of control.
“You seem nice,” Luke said in that kind way.
“You’re wrong, but I like that you think so,” I said, and then I pushed him a little more. “Were you dangerous, father?”
“Yes.”
“I like dangerous.” I stepped closer, standing as close as I could be without being inappropriate. “Tell me more.”
He clenched his jaw and looked away. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here.”
“Flirt . . .?” I said it like it was a question, but it wasn’t.
He nodded to a group of seminarians. When they were gone, he asked, “Why?”
“I’m bored. You’re interesting.” I leaned in and stretched up on my tip-toes. “And you’re sexy.”
He stared at my mouth, so I let my lips part. I made an approving noise as his eyes dilated and then I whispered, “And I’m not actually sweet or nice. If you knew what I was really thinking, you’d know that.”
He said nothing more, simply motioned me forward and walked me to the dorms.  Whatever happened next, I knew already that that he was interested.  The question was if he was going to act on it.
We walked across campus in the dark. He stayed an appropriate distance from me, and I figured that I’d let him do whatever he chose. I’d given him the invitation, assured him that I was interested, removed the risk of rejection. I was a sure thing.  Knowing that was typically enough to make a man go from maybe to yes.
Several quiet moments passed and then he glanced over at me. I smiled and lowered my gaze, waiting. We kept walking, and I said nothing more.
When we reached the place where he would have to leave me, he quietly accepted the bait I’d offered and asked, “What were you really thinking?”
“I was imagining you fucking me on the pool table,” I said.  “I’ll imagine it when I’m in my room, naked in my bed, too. Think about it with every stroke.”
“You can’t—”
“Oh, I can, Father Luke,” I assured him. “Do you fuck slowly? Deliberately? Or would you pound into me, desperate from having had no release in so long?”
He stared at me. His breathing was heavier. He was picturing it, too.
So, I continued, “Or do you still touch yourself, father?”
Luke swallowed, staring at me and refusing to answer.
“I wish I could watch,” I told him.
“Kenzie . . .”
Before walking away, I smiled and added, “Forgive me, father. I’m about to sin.”
He still stared at me.  I could feel his gaze burning me up. I looked over my shoulder. When I glanced back, he still stood there, watching me.
So, I blew him a kiss.


Author Bio:
Zurie Brunelle considered a future in theology, but decided to become a teacher instead. She lives in a remote area with her partner and almost enough horses. She believes in God, the importance of joy, and that women ought to have a Constitutional Right to regular and frequent orgasms.

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Sunday, July 14, 2019

The Forever Girl book blitz


The Forever Girl
Rebecca Hamilton
Publication date: June 18th 2018
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal
A young descendent of a true witch, Sophia discovers her familial curse can only be cured by entering a world of shifters, fae, and vampires who want her dead.
Sophia’s ancestor’s body went missing after a Salem Witch Trials hanging. Now, over three centuries later, Sophia is cursed, and the only way to free herself is to find out what happened to her ancestor’s body.
As Sophia uses magic to find answers, she unknowingly paints a supernatural target on her back, making herself a beacon for creatures of the night. And they won’t stop hunting her until they’ve collected what they want.
There’s one man who might be able to help her, but when Sophia finally decides to trust him, his own secrets place them both in more danger.
Fans of True Blood, Twilight, and The Craft are devouring Rebecca Hamilton’s witty, imaginative series.
Scroll Up and One-Click The Forever Girl to start the hauntingly beautiful adventure today!
EXCERPT:
Once Circe disappeared into the crowd, Thalia smiled at Charles.
“That one”—she bit her thumbnail and indicated me with her pinky—“would be valuable.”
A vein pulsed in Charles’ neck, and a soft hum vibrated through his body. Why didn’t he just shift?
“Surely you aren’t attached?” she asked, dropping her hand away from her mouth.
“You’re outside your rights, Thalia.”
“Temper, temper.” She sighed, the sound sickening coming from her. “But, my sweet Charlie, we’ve missed you. And what of Adonis and Blake? Have you forgotten who your ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘™ friends are?”
“These women know nothing.” His voice sounded rougher, more gravelly. “Do not cross me.”
“Cross you? Oh Charlie, I’d never cross you.” She patted his chest and winked. “You’ve already ๐‘๐‘’๐‘’๐‘› crossed.”
A young, scrawny vampire pushed his way through the crowd. He bowed toward Thalia. “I’m sure Charles can handle this…misunderstanding. He’s been around longer than both of us put together.” He arched his eyebrows.
Thalia stepped back, cocked her head to one side, and tapped a finger against her cheek. “Fine. We have their scents.” To Charles, she added, “Pray you handle this well.”


Author Bio:
New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance for Harlequin, Baste Lรผbbe, and Evershade. A book addict, registered bone marrow donor, and indian food enthusiast, she often takes to fictional worlds to see what perilous situations her characters will find themselves in next.
Represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA, Rebecca has been published internationally, in three languages: English, German, and Hungarian.
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***
To learn more about Autism Spectrum Disorder, please visit the website below.
http://www.autisticadvocacy.org

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Saturday, July 13, 2019

Book Blitz for On a City Street


On a City Street
Pat Wahler
(A Becker Family Novel)
Publication date: July 9th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
The cure for a painful breakup requires drastic measures. And quite often, a moving van…
When veterinarian Carolyn Becker catches her fiance cheating, her problem-solving skills come to the rescue. She swears off love and leaves suburbia for a fresh start in St. Louis to launch a low-cost animal clinic…and bury the past.
But new beginnings can be complicated. A mysterious man, a troubled teenager, and an injured dog trigger unsettling questions. Before she knows it, Carolyn’s best-laid plans unravel, and solutions are farther from her reach than Mars. Sometimes even a problem-solver can use a little help.
Especially when it comes to mending a broken heart.
EXCERPT:
“A reminder, Dr. Becker. If you run into anything unusual, tell me.”
She tried to make sense of what he said. “You mean at the clinic?”
“I mean anywhere. I’ve noticed you tend to run hell-bent into situations you don’t know anything about. It’s a good way to get yourself into a world of trouble.”
Carolyn mulled over his comment. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
“All the same, take care.”
He certainly didn’t have much confidence in her good sense. It ought to make her furious. Instead, her body tingled. Was it the wine? Carolyn wasn’t sure. He moved closer. So close, she could feel his warm breath on her face. His expression remained impassive, yet she detected something within the silvery depths of his eyes.
His palm cupped her cheek and he said, “Are you sure it’s wise to trust me?” She didn’t have an answer since blood pounded through her veins in a most disconcerting way. His eyes held hers, and he leaned closer. Her lips parted, and she let her eyelids close against the magnetic attraction of his gaze. Would he kiss her? She waited expectantly.
A cell phone shrilled, and her eyes flew open. He uttered a soft curse and retrieved his phone. One glance at the screen darkened his face.
“What is it?”
“Sorry. This is important. I’ve got to go.”
“But…” She felt disembodied, as though abruptly awakened from a deep sleep, and pointed toward the oven. “What about dinner?”
“We’ll have dinner another day, but next time it will be on me.”
With one wicked grin, he retrieved his jacket from the chair where it hung. She watched until the door closed behind him, then pondered how to interpret what he said. Dinner? On him? What did he mean by that? A sudden burst of giggles erupted, which quickly turned into hiccups. She held her breath and counted to twenty. The hiccups subsided, but a wisp of smoke curled from the oven. Carolyn leaped up and raced for the kitchen.


Author Bio:
Pat Wahler is an award-winning writer who aims to pen stories a reader will savor. She lives in Missouri with her family, including a Peek-a-poo pup named Winston; and Bogey, a tabby with an attitude. A fan of good books, history, humor, animals, and the arts (her dream job would combine all of these); Pat draws inspiration from family, friends, and the critters who supervise her time at the keyboard.
A frequent contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies, Sasee Magazine, and Not Your Mother's Book anthologies; her work has also appeared in Reader's Digest, Storyteller Magazine, and other publications.
Pat's debut novel, I AM MRS. JESSE JAMES, was an Amazon #1 bestseller in Historical Fiction. This story of love, loss, and redemption is based on true events and told from the point of view of Zee James, wife of the infamous outlaw. The novel received a Silver IPPY Medal for Midwest Best Regional Fiction from the Independent Publishers Book Awards and won Best First Novel from Western Fictioneers.
Other titles by Pat Wahler include LET YOUR HEART BE LIGHT: A CELEBRATION OF CHRISTMAS - This Christmas-themed collection of short stories, essays, and poetry received a Reader's Choice Five-Star review
COMING SOON! ON A CITY STREET: First of a three book contemporary romance series, and was named a Five-star Readers' Favorite.

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Friday, July 12, 2019

All the Wrong Places book blitz


All the Wrong Places
Randi Perrin
Publication date: June 25th 2019
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
American-born, Australian-raised Rachel Kennedy was born to be an actress–all the way down to her drama queen ways. But when a bad day leaves her life and her dream in ruins, she’s not sure what to do next. Her silver spoon-upbringing never prepared her for that.
With a bank account at nothing and an inability to pull off a convincing accent for casting directors, Rachel’s about to give up on everything. Not on her best friend’s watch. Lily is there to help her every step of the way–if the definition of help involves convincing her to take drastic measures, each one blowing up more than the one that came before.
Once Lily shoves Rachel into the let’s-get-drunk-and-screw-a-stranger phase, she winds up tangled in the arms of Christian Whitmore, a cop with a sinful smile, sexy stubble, and impeccable timing. He’s there to pick her up when she falls and to take her out for fish and chips at her favourite place.
But then again, so is his identical twin brother, Kevin. Double. Trouble.
Stuck at a major crossroads in her life, can Rachel ever find happiness again, or is she just looking in all the wrong places?
EXCERPT:
“Rachel Kennedy.” The guy wearing hipster glasses and khakis that were an inch too short and showed off his mismatched argyle socks tapped a pencil against the clipboard in his hand and scanned the room. “Ugh, Rachel Kennedy. Going once, twice…”
“That’s me,” I shouted as I stood, crumpling the eviction notice into the bottom of my bag. I waved my hands in the air as if I feared he didn’t notice me in the sea of women in their mid-twenties all vying for the same part.
He gave me a once-over and shrugged. “Right this way, Miss Kennedy.”
Well, at least I didn’t get the snort of derision that directly translates into you don’t belong here that I often get. It’s a step in the right direction.
I smiled, my lucky, last season Louboutins clicking on the dingy, white, tiled floor as I walked past a dozen other hopefuls going through their pre-audition rituals. Some closed their eyes and mouthed their monologues. Others paced the floor. One actress, whom I’ve always admired, had her yoga mat out and was in the middle of a sun salutation.
I needed some yoga right now. Or Xanex. Something to ease my nerves from this audition and the frustration about the eviction notice I pulled out of the mailbox the other day. I know I’m not rolling in the dough—anymore, since Daddy told me it was time to live on my own money instead of his—but I paid my half of rent. There may not be petrol money or much food some months, but that rent cheque clears on the third of the month like clockwork. I knew my boyfriend, Mark, had been struggling to make his half because his hours had been cut at work. Our landlord was none too pleased, but he said he’d work with me. Turns out he’s a liar, because now we’re out on the streets in a week.
Straightening my back as I walked into the dark auditorium, I pushed all my anger and nerves aside. I needed to nail this audition. My career depended on it. I hadn’t had a show since Nunsense a year ago, and with that notice burning a hole in the bottom of my designer handbag, even more was riding on this. My big break had to come soon. My mother never made it as an actress, but by God, I was going to. I was going to live the dream she gave up for me. I knew she’d never see it, but I was still going to make her proud.
The click-clack of my heels gave way to a thunk-thunk as I stepped onto the honey-coloured wooden stage. Standing center stage, I focused on the orchestra pit. Staring back at me were three casting directors, and I had to swallow back the bile that crept up my throat. I wouldn’t have a chance in hell if I spewed on the casting directors. The only person who had ever chucked on a casting director and still landed the role was Cassandra Browne. Just thinking the thought of about her sent a shiver down my spine.
Taking a deep breath, I shook the nervous energy out of my hands.
“Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Kennedy,” said a familiar older man with a bushy monobrow. Directopillar. He had a reputation for being tough to impress. But I had impressed him when I landed Nunsense. I could do it again. No. I would do it again.
I glanced at the other two casting directors but didn’t recognise them. I closed my eyes and gathered everything in me before I opened my mouth.
“Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does nothing but propose to me.”
Fudge cookies! I messed up my accent.
I shuffled my feet as I debated continuing in the contrite southern accent that fell off my tongue like I meant to do it. Or should I stop altogether and ask for a redo? The former would be embarrassing, the latter unprofessional. There was no way to win here. Either way I went, I was a colossal screw-up.
Directopillar paused from taking notes and glared at me, a scowl on his face. I wouldn’t be surprised if his note read, Go back home to the States.
“Excuse me, Ms. Kennedy,” Directopillar said, his proper British accent mocking me. “You are aware An Ideal Husband is set in London, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded, avoiding eye contact. I didn’t want to see the disappointment painted on his face; the tone of his voice was disparaging enough. “I just thought it might be fun to put an American spin on it. Who better to make fun of than those in the American South?”
“We will not be changing the setting.” He cracked the pencil in his hand and tossed it over his shoulder. “I will give you one more chance—and know this is not a luxury I grant many people. Please start from the top.”
Grateful for the second attempt, I decided to move closer to them, so the emotion I portrayed wrapped them like a warm blanket, leaving them with a warm fuzzy that whispered, “Cast Rachel Kennedy,” for the rest of the afternoon.
I walked to the edge and dropped down to the stage, without showing the casting directors everything I owned—not that it mattered. My boyfriend, Mark, and I hadn’t had sex in so long, I think my hymen had grown back. All I needed was a pair of granny panties, and my transition back to virgin would be complete.


Author Bio:
English may be Randi's first language, but she's the most fluent in sarcasm, and it shows in her writing. She is known for creating snarky, realistic characters--badass heroines who can hold their own and flawed, yet lovable heroes. Like Randi, her characters run on caffeine and swear words.
Her characters are often built around dichotomy, much like Randi herself. Although she is the least romantic person in the world, she writes romance. She also refuses to pick a lane on the romance highway, sometimes writing contemporary, other times paranormal, but always smokin' hot.
She is the author of the Earthbound Angels paranormal romance series, several contemporary romance novellas including Anticipating Temptation and Mi Amor, and a gay romance novella entitled Wreck You. She has also had several short stories published in anthologies. Her next full-length novel, a romantic comedy entitled All the Wrong Places, will be out in Summer 2019.

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Thursday, July 11, 2019

Book blitz for The Guantlet


The Gauntlet
Rebecca Ethington
(Imdalind Academy #1)
Publication date: July 8th 2019
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
‘Running a revolution is easy when you have a little bit of illegal magic on your side.’ -Gemma
The only way you can receive magic is by running the masochistic Gauntlet that the royal family started seventy years ago as a way to control power. One bite from a Vily and you are filled with what many call ‘the power of the gods’ and sent to Imdalind Academy for training.
No bite, no magic, no Academy, and no place in society besides with the Drains that live in the old tunnels that dot what once was Europe.
Unless you are me, who after one bite from a loose Vily is left with a diseased fragment of magic like the Chosen magic carriers of my world. I may not be as strong as the bastards that lord over us, but that isn’t going to stop me from raising more than a little hell.
This year I am running the Gauntlet, and enrolling myself in their damn academy. There is no better way to take down the evil overlords of our world than from the inside.
Those royal bastards won’t know what hit them.
Now, if I can just get the king’s son Rowan out of my way…
Imdalind Academy is a stand alone spin-off to the Internationally Best Selling Imdalind Series.
Three series + Two Ultimate book boyfriends = The Best Magical Binge.
EXCERPT:
“They don’t trust you.” I interrupted, tapping my foot and making eyes at Ed in an attempt to get him over here. The guy looked terrified.
“This guy trusts me,” she said, nodding to Eddy who was slowly walking towards us. So slow he might as well have been walking backwards.
I gave her a look, my eyebrows twisting together. She beamed with a broader grin. Damn, all these Eternals were delusional.
“This guy is terrified you are going to eat him. Eddy?” I asked when he was only about half way too us. “Do you trust her?”
He froze in place, taking one slow step back.
“I don’t know how to answer that. If I say no, will she kill me?” Poor Eddy was practically shaking in his boots. I didn’t blame him, Wynifred had always been an unknown.
So yeah, I guess still terrifying. Just terrifying and irritating.
“I haven’t killed anyone in a few hundred years, kid, and I used to be pretty good at it.”
Eddy took another step back, a tiny squeak echoing from behind one of the tents in the communal sleeping space we were traversing through.
“You enjoyed blowing people up?” I asked, regretting the question when she smiled.
“You enjoy turning buildings to rubble,” she shrugged, smiling again.
“I enjoy standing up to oppressors for the sake of my people.” It was taking everything in me not to throw her into the wall. But I wasn’t about to go throwing murderesses against walls if I wasn’t sure I could win.
“The thing about causes, kid, is that you have to make sure you are on the right side. The bad side looks just like the good one when you don’t know any better.”
“I know which side I’m on,” I said between the grit in my teeth, fists tight against my thighs. Maybe I could punch her.
“Sure you do, come find me after you’ve killed your third ‘tyrant’ and tell me if you still think so. Maybe we can go blow up buildings together. Or people. Guess it depends on how your revolution pans out.” She looked around her, again. The curious under mortals who had peeked out to stare at us retreating back into their holes.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Boredom.” She shrugged her shoulders, the maniacal light vanishing from her eyes.
How in the hell was this a four-thousand-year-old immortal and mother of the headmaster to Imdalind Academy?


Author Bio:
Rebecca Ethington is an internationally bestselling author with almost 700,000 books sold. Her breakout debut, The Imdalind Series, has been featured on bestseller lists since its debut in 2012, reaching thousands of adoring fans worldwide and cited as "Interesting and Intense" by USA Today's Happily Ever After Blog.
From writing horror to romance and creating every sort of magical creature in be-tween, Rebecca's imagination weaves vibrant worlds that transport readers into the pages of her books. Her writing has been described as fresh, original, and groundbreaking, with stories that bend genres and create fantastical worlds.
Born and raised under the lights of a stage, Rebecca has written stories by the ghost light, told them in whispers in dark corridors, and never stopped creating within the pages of a notebook.

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Wednesday, July 10, 2019

Book blitz for Lady Luck


Lady Luck
K.C. Cross / J.A. Huss
(Harem Station, #4)
Publication date: July 8th 2019
Genres: Sci-Fi Alien Romance
KC Cross is the pen name of New York Times bestselling author, JA Huss.
Luck knew two things when he left Harem Station months ago.
One. The silver-haired Cygnian princess Nyleena was still safely frozen in her cryopod.
And two. There was a good chance she was his soulmate.
He left anyway.
Nyleena is what you might call feisty. Or sassy. Or maybe just… feral. She is wild. Much too wild for Luck’s taste. But now that he’s home there’s no way to deny it.
Like it or not, she is his.
Lucky for him, all Cygnian princesses have one true weakness. They cannot resist cooking up crazy plans to tackle unsolvable problems. And he’s going to use that irresistible urge to tame her savage spirit.
Nyleena has plans of her own and none of them involve Luck. She is out for blood. All the people who made her life hell will be dealt with, and she’s going to find every single one of them and take them out.
Right after she solves this one last unsolvable problem…
How not to fall in love with your soulmate.
Lady Luck is a sexy hate-f*ck of a story about a wild princess, six hot brothers trying to tame her, bad relationship advice from killer sexbots, your favorite evil, but misunderstood, dragonbee bot, and a repentant AI trapped in a sex prison with a succubus.
Get the complete series here!
EXCERPT:
NYLEENA
The only thing I hate more about Luck than the fact that we’re forced to fuck every day to keep our sanity is his lack of dirty talk.
He refuses to talk to me or let me talk to him.
That makes me ragey. Because dirty talk is my favorite and he won’t engage.
But one of these days…
“Come,” he commands me.
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “We just started.”
He slaps his hand over my mouth and the rage that was only imaginary two seconds ago manifests in all its glorious reality when I wrap my legs around his middle and squeeze him so tight with my thighs, he gasps.
Take that, asshole.
He glares at me, momentarily distracted. And I use that distraction to my advantage by twisting my body and flipping him over so he’s on his back.
He’s still inside me, the heads of both his cocks swollen in place. Locking us together until we come and relieve the lust hidden deep inside our genetically-matched souls.
My tits bounce on his chest and he grabs my hair, shoots me a warning glare.
I know what that glare says. Don’t make me bleed, Nyleena.
He shoots this look at me every time, and every time I take it as a challenge.
I raise my hand up.
“Don’t,” he growls.
“Oh,” I say. “He can speak. Tell me more,” I purr.
“Do not—”
But I do it anyway.
I swipe my nails right down the side of his cheek and hiss at him like a feral cat.
He wraps his muscled arms around my upper body, squeezing me tight as he pulls me down on to his chest.
I’ll admit, Luck is strong. And when he gets me in a lock like this, there’s no way I can escape until he lets me.
But I don’t make it easy.
I squirm and twist in his grip. All the while his hips are thrusting up with powerful force. So hard that his balls are slapping against my clit.
This momentarily takes my mind off the forced submission and I float a little.
“Come,” he commands again, growling out the word in my ear. “Right. Fucking—”
I do.
I come.
The light locked up inside me pulses out in flickering waves at first. And then it stops just as his cocks contract inside me. My luminous flux holds steady for a moment so when his contractions are over, and his sperm is ready to explode into me, my flux knows what to do and it bursts into fractals of geometrically-shaped light that dance and crackle around our bodies. Electrifying them like charged ions flowing out from a sun on a matrix of deep, dark space-time.
He throws me over to the side, his cocks slipping out of me, dripping with our shared release, and breathes hard and heavy.
I lie there with eyes closed. Not caring that he just literally threw me away.
Because this is the best part.
I wait for him to tuck his dicks away, mumble out, “Thank you,” as he walks off and leaves me alone.
And then… I let out the last of my climax.
Because I never give him all of me.
I have one little hidden, secret surprise that he will never know about.
I open my eyes and come for real. Silver-laced lavender light shoots up and out, bouncing off the UV reflectors above the grass and flowers, and comes back down to blanket my body, and this entire secret garden, in a soft, purple glow.
And all the plants around me grow ten times taller from my sexy, lust-filled, nutritious light.


Author Bio:
JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller's list 21 times in the past five years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.
Her new sexy sci-fi romance and paranormal romance pen name is KC Cross and she writes novels and teleplays collaboratively with actor and screenwriter, Johnathan McClain.
Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Five of her book were optioned for a TV series by MGM television in 2018. And her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.
She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.

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Check out Destiny Fulfilled. Plus enter the giveaway

Destiny Fulfilled Laire McKinney Publication date: August 7th 2018 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance Only love can save them… W...