Saturday, February 2, 2019

Book Blitz: Build: A Bad Boy Snowed In Romance by Gillian Archer with Giveaway


Build: A Bad Boy Snowed In Romance
Gillian Archer
(Burns Brothers #1)
Publication date: January 29th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Welcome to Badass Builds where the motorcycles are as sexy as the brothers building them.

Austin Burns:

I thought she wasn’t real the first time I saw her. To be fair I was a hungover mess when I woke up and looked into her gorgeous eyes. After getting the second worst news of my life—that my father would be paroled soon—I’d escaped to my buddy’s posh cabin near Lake Tahoe. Now the maid with the gorgeous eyes is snowed in with me, and I wonder if she might be a better distraction than the mountain of booze I’d planned on drinking. She’s curvy in all the right places, and the snow is falling faster.

Rachel Tannenbaum:

As a single mom, I don’t have time for men, especially irresponsible tattooed bad boys like my ex. But Austin is hot. And sexy. And stuck here in the cabin with me. I can’t say no to fling with this bad boy, especially since Austin is so gorgeous and awkwardly sweet.

One night becomes two, and I don’t know if I can risk my heart—and my little boy’s—if Austin wants it to become more when we get through the snow and back to reality.

 
—
EXCERPT
 
“Are you this indecisive with every fucking thing, or do I just bring it out in ya?” Austin grumbled from somewhere inside the room.
 
I cleared my throat. “Where, um, where is the dog?”
 
The room in front of me was a dark cave, and I had that prickling sensation that someone or something was watching me in a menacing way. I just knew it was Blue.
 
“He’s in here next to me. Relax. Contrary to his growl, he’s just a big baby. You got nothing to worry about.”
 
“Maybe you could grab one of those chargers for me and fling it in my general direction?” I would’ve turned tail and run already, but I needed to charge my phone. I had to talk to my kid soon, and I should’ve called my boss an hour ago.
 
“Blue is really docile. I swear. Come on over and pet him. You’ll see.”
 
My eyes had adjusted to the lack of lighting, and I could see Austin in the front row of recliners with a large dark shadow at his feet.
 
My heart pounded into my throat. “Yeah, no. I’m good here.”
 
“Blue, stay.” Austin commanded before he huffed as he got up then walked to the back of the room and fiddled with something. I didn’t really watch him—I was too busy keeping my eyes on the shadow in front of the recliners. A soft panting let me know that I was right. Blue was right there, probably watching me with his big, hungry eyes.
 
“Here.”
 
I flinched when Austin appeared at my side. My fight or flight instincts kicked in as I took a few steps back—away from him or the dog I didn’t know. I just wanted to fly away.
 
“Whoa. Hold up. It’s okay. No one here—man or dog—is gonna hurt you. If it’ll make you feel better, you can take your charger and hole up in a bedroom with the door locked or whatever. Here.” He held the cord out in his hand and the gentle, understanding look in his eyes melted me, and I started babbling.
 
“I don’t want to be antisocial, it’s just that dogs kinda scare me.” And you kinda scare me too.
 
“Ah, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll put him in the garage so you don’t—”
 
“Oh no. You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you kicking him out. I can hang out upstairs or something.”
 
“It’s not exactly like I’m putting Blue out in the cold. Cole’s garage is nicer than most people’s houses. It’s nicer than the house I grew up in. Blue will be fine.”
 
I shook my head as I accepted the cord. “I’d still feel bad.”
 
Austin rocked back on his heels and stuffed his hands in his back pockets. “How deep is this fear of yours? Could you come over and meet Blue? I’ll turn on the lights and stand between you. Despite his size, he’s really a big marshmallow, I swear.”
 
I bit my lip in indecision. Austin was persuasive, but my fear of dogs went pretty deep. If Blue was a Pitbull, I was out of here. “What breed is he?”
 
“He’s a Great Dane. They’re the teddy bears of dogs, I promise.”
 
“I, uh, okay.”
 
Austin smiled at me as he grabbed my hand. My heart stuttered for a second before it pounded hard in my chest. I’d like to attribute my sudden arrhythmia to fear, but I knew better. I just didn’t want to think about it. Nothing was going to come of this anyway—Austin still thought I had a man back home.
 
He flicked on the light switch with his other hand, flooding the room with light. I blinked against the glare then focused on the large dog on the floor. My whole body tensed. The dog’s head tilted as he watched me. Unlike the monster that’d mauled me as a teenager, this dog was kinda…lazy looking. Blue let out a soft sigh then fell over onto his side with a human sounding groan. My lips curled slightly, and most of the tension drained from me. He looked sweet and not threatening at all.
 
“See? He’s a lazy lump. Most days I’m lucky if I can get him off the couch. He’s like a big, lazy teenager but with none of the attitude. And trust me, I’d know.”
 
I nodded slightly, not letting Blue out of my sight. I knew Austin was the oldest of four brothers. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to look like the crazy stalker I clearly was.
 
Austin’s rumbling voice tore me from my thoughts. “Are you okay with getting closer to him? Blue won’t mind.”
 
“I, uh, okay,” I mumbled. Blue looked sweet enough, but I was still too nervous to trust he was a teddy bear. He still looked very doglike to me.
 
“I got Blue two years ago. When he was a puppy, he was the size of most medium adult dogs. But he was as lazy as ever, even as a puppy.” Austin chattered away as we approached the dog in question. Blue blinked languidly at us but didn’t get up, or even lift his head. A low thumping sound pulsed in the silent room as Blue’s tail wagged, walloping away at the floor. “He’s lazy; he won’t get up even when he’s excited.”
 
My smile grew as I watched Austin kneel down next to the prone dog. He rubbed Blue on his ribs, but still the dog didn’t really move—aside from his tail, which continued to thump against the floor. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”
 
The baby talk was ridiculously sweet and totally at odds with his professional persona. With the tattoos and muscles and overall badass aura, it made my ovaries flutter to watch Austin caress and sweettalk his dog. And it totally distracted me from my fear, right up to the point that Austin grabbed my hand again.
 
“You okay with giving him a little pat? I’ll keep myself between you two for your peace of mind, but you’ve got nothing to worry about. He let my brothers lay on top of him.”
 
My heartbeat thrummed in my ears from the combination of my fear and Austin’s touch. But that sweet, soft look in his eye had me grinning, and before I even realized it, words were coming out of my mouth. “I, uh, yeah sure. That’s okay.”
 
Austin guided my hand toward Blue’s blue-grey coat. The dog didn’t flinch as our entwined hands moved over him. His fur was soft and kinda bristly. And warm. After a minute Blue groaned again and rolled onto his back, leaving his soft fleshy belly exposed.
 
“He really loves belly rubs. Here.” Austin moved our hands over Blue’s belly which felt surprisingly like my own skin—soft, hairless, and with that give of a not really firm tummy.
 
I laughed as I petted him. Austin smiled and looked into my eyes as our hands continued to move over Blue.
 
“See? Nothing to worry about. Blue’s just a big ol’ baby. Not a scary bone in his body.” Austin’s fingers linked with mine for a second.
 
I looked down at our joined hands and felt a tingle between my legs. It’d been so, so long since I’d been near a guy I kinda liked, let alone touched one. But I knew no matter how I felt, nothing would ever come of it. I had a son at home, a mom to take care of, and besides, I doubted he had the same jolt that I’d felt just because our hands had touched. He still thought I was married.
 
You could fix that, a naughty little voice whispered in my head. But I couldn’t think of a way to bring it up that didn’t sound like a come-on. I didn’t want to look like a needy hussy, especially if he wasn’t into me. How embarrassing would that be, if I all but threw myself at him and he rejected me? Meanwhile, we had to spend however much time together. Alone.
 
No thank you.
 
 
Author Bio:
Gillian has a bachelor’s degree in mining engineering but prefers to spend her time on happily ever after. She writes the kind of stories she loves to read—the hotter the better!

When Gillian’s not pounding away on the keyboard, she can be found surfing the couch indulging in her latest reality tv fixation, baking something ridiculously tasty (and horrible for her waist line) or snuggling with her husband.

Home is currently in the wilds of Nevada with her amazing husband, ridiculously cute kiddo, and goofy dog.

 
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Book Blitz: Jake’s Redemption by Jamie Schulz with Giveaway


Jake’s Redemption
Jamie Schulz
(The Angel Eyes Series Prequel)
Publication date: February 1st 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction

In a broken world, he faced a future full of pain.

Will one daring woman be his last chance for love… Before time runs out…

Jake longs for the life men lived before war destroyed everything and women enslaved them. When fate forces a temporary reprieve from imprisonment, escape becomes his primary objective. Until his new captor sparks hope, and something far more passionate, in his lonely heart.

After giving up on romance, Monica dedicated herself to sheltering unfortunate souls from a harsh new society. But then destiny delivered a desperate man to her doorstep. A man she soon discovers she cannot ignore and would do anything to save.

Will Monica be able to free Jake from the vicious woman who wants to break him? Or will Jake be forced to leave Monica behind to save himself?

 
—
EXCERPT
 
“Welcome to our home,” she said in a friendly voice.
 
He flicked another glance in her direction, but only nodded in reply. He was so wound up with dread and anxiety from the drug, he could barely communicate; yet he was not so unnerved or disorientated that he didn’t notice her breathtaking beauty.
 
He couldn’t work any moisture into his mouth. His throat was too tight and his shaking so bad, he knew he would stutter unintelligibly if he tried to utter a single word.
 
“Are you cold?” the woman asked.
 
He shook his head, still unable to speak.
 
“What’s your name?”
 
He looked up again and then back at the ground. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
 
Coughing, he tried again.
 
“J-Jake…Ni-Nichols.”
 
“Jake. I like that.”
 
Something in her tone, or maybe it was just his fear of being close to another woman with power over him, sent an icy shiver of dread down Jake’s spine.
 
“So, you’re not cold,” the woman said, “but you’re trembling like it’s twenty below. Did they give you the drug before you left?”
 
He nodded again.
 
She rested a hand on his arm and looked up into his face. He wanted to pull away, but something in her eyes held him immobile.
 
“You won’t have to suffer that again for as long as you’re here…”
 
Author Bio:
Jamie Schulz lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her family, her husband, and their fur babies. Writing has always been a big a part of her life, and she hopes to one day reach the best sellers lists.

Cowboys, ice cream, and reading almost any kind of romance are among her (not so) secret loves. To her, every one of her stories, no matter how dark, must have a happy ending, and she strives to make them impossible to put down until you get there.

She balances her free time between reading her favorite romance authors--in genres ranging from erotica and dark romance to sweet historicals and contemporary romance--and spending time with her family.

 
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Book Blitz: EVO by Diane May with Giveaway


EVO
Diane May
Publication date: July 23rd 2018
Genres: Adult, Thriller

A covert CIA operation that involves genetic engineering.

A serial killer nicknamed “The Hypnotist”.

And the most terrifying threat humanity has to face.

What if someone could take complete control over your mind?
And what if that someone was a serial killer?


Discover EVO, a gripping crime thriller that reviewers and readers describe as “spellbinding”, “high-energy” and “impossible to put down”.

Langley, Virginia, twenty years earlier:

John Blake, a CIA special agent, stumbles upon an illegal genetic experiment within the agency, conducted on unborn babies and officially presented as a fertility program designed to help couples get pregnant. When he realizes that his very own daughter is a product of this sinister plot and that she is in grave danger, he vows to do everything it takes to make sure Maya will be safe and the people behind the experiment will all pay. With their lives.

Verona, Italy, present time:

Livio Marchiori, a homicide detective with the highest rate of solved cases in Verona, is faced with The Hypnotist, a serial killer the likes of which he’s never seen before. He never touches his victims and he leaves no evidence behind, except for the detailed videos of his murders. And what Marchiori and his team see on those videos is more disturbing than all their other cases combined. Because this one is different. This one defies all rational thinking and borders the impossible.

Then The Hypnotist gets personal and threatens to kill Dr. Abby Jones, the chief medical examiner and the woman Marchiori is in love with. Caught in a cat-and-mouse game with the elusive killer, Marchiori knows he is quickly running out of time.

So when Captain Victor Miller from Interpol walks into town, Marchiori is more than happy to partner again with the man who two years ago helped him put an entire mafia clan behind bars. But Miller has his own agenda, and Marchiori soon discovers that there is more to these crimes than meets the eye, an entire thread of things way beyond his pay grade – illegal experiments, secret agencies, and the most terrifying threat humanity has to face.

A gripping serial killer thriller with a “hit-the-brakes-with-both-feet plot twist that may leave even the most jaded among us feeling good about humanity.”

“He stripped down, threw his clothes in the blue hamper behind the door, and got in the shower. He turned his body away from the faucet and placed his hands on the wall, letting the hot water beat down his back. Doing this usually relaxed him, but now it somehow amplified this weird restlessness, this foreboding feeling he couldn’t shake off. Annoyed at himself, he quickly washed his body, turned off the faucet and reached for the brown towel on the hook.

A heavy silence filled his apartment. A few drops of water from the shower head splashed onto the ceramic tiles below, the sound deafening to his ears. His heart started beating faster. All of a sudden he wanted to hear human voices, his neighbours yelling at each other, their baby crying, anything but this dead silence and the rhythmic tapping of the water drops.

An icy shiver rippled down his spine and his body started shaking. Unseen walls were sliding down around him, trapping him. Suffocating him.”

 
—
EXCERPT
 
Present day
 
His eyelids stung as if they were held open by sharp needles. He felt tired, but it wasn’t just an every-now-and-then feeling. He felt perpetually tired, as though life and blood were slowly oozing out of him. Tired of being around the sick and the grieving, tired of his starched white coat, grey slacks and polished black shoes, tired of feeling lonely and having no-one at home waiting for him.
 
For a moment, he entertained the idea of crashing out in the on-call room at the hospital, but the bunk bed with its lumpy, cheap mattress held little appeal. The Borgo Trento hospital in Verona, one of the best in Italy, didn’t offer much in this regard. Then there was the constant smell of ammonia, laundry soap and bed sweat hovering in the air, impregnating the walls, the furniture, the clothes he was wearing. Sometimes it filled his nostrils and almost suffocated him and its acrid taste remained at the back of his throat for days.
 
He’d go home instead.
 
He took off his coat and carefully put it on the coat hanger in the closet by the door. He fished out a small hair comb he religiously kept inside the breast pocket of his shirt, looked in the mirror hung on the inside of the closet door and began tidying his unruly hair. He had always been obsessed with this. If he didn’t comb his hair every few hours, it started looking like a half-built bird’s nest.
 
He focused all of his attention on his hair and tried to ignore the sagging pale face in the mirror. He was forty-five, but his hectic life-style and the sterile light in the room added at least another decade to that. With a receding hairline and his black hair developing more than just a few grey friends, his dull-brown eyes slightly too close, and his waist puffing out like rising bread dough – although he tried to hide it under large sweaters and shirts – he knew he wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt.
 
In his opinion, men fell into four categories: the gorgeous scoundrels, who had half of the female population swooning at their feet; the handsome good guys, who also encountered no difficulties in finding a partner; the ugly, but charming, who still had their fair share of success with the opposite sex. And then came the invisible ones. The men who were neither good-looking, nor ugly. The ones you saw once and failed to remember the next day. They were the nice guys. And he was one of them.
 
He sighed and turned away from the mirror. He took the leather jacket from the coat hanger, grabbed his briefcase and stepped out of his office into the brightly lit corridor of the virology wing. It was Sunday evening, a little over eight o’clock, and he had just finished a thirty-six-hour shift.
 
“Good night, Doctor Pasetto,” the nurse at the reception desk said, her red-rimmed eyes peering at him from behind thick glasses. Then she resumed staring at the computer screen in front of her, pounding on the keyboard.

“Good night, Dorina,” he answered, always polite, always using first names.

Because he was the nice guy. This was how the few women he had been with – in his pathetic attempts to find the one – would describe him.

In his twenties and thirties, he had been too busy studying and making a name for himself to think about starting a family, although his mother had gradually become more vocal in expressing her desire to have grandchildren. But once he had established an excellent reputation for himself, his lonely existence started to weigh him down, and he found himself wishing for someone in his life, a person he could share everything with, who’d be at home when he arrived in the evenings, ask about his day and tell him in great detail about her own.

He stepped outside into the grey twilight gloom and ambled to his car. He thought about the date he had a few evenings ago. An intelligent and beautiful woman with a healthy sense of humour, a woman he certainly wished to see again. But that would never happen.

It’s not you, it’s me, she had told him, you’re such a nice man, Niccolò, you deserve someone with less emotional baggage.

He was tired of hearing what a nice guy he was.
He pointed the key fob at his black Mercedes; the doors unlocked with a low hum, the mirrors reverted to the normal position, and the interior light came on. He climbed behind the wheel.

The thought of sleeping at the hospital popped into his mind again, more persistent this time. But he pushed it aside. His own bed was much more comfortable.

He turned the key in the ignition, and with a soft purr, the car started. He drove out of the parking lot and joined the traffic. His apartment was ten minutes away from the hospital.

There were few cars on the streets now, the city’s inhabitants relaxing in front of the television, beer in one hand, remote control in the other. He loved the quiet of the dark, the sleepiness of Verona like a cat curled up on the warm mat in front of the fireplace dozing off into oblivion. At least until the next morning when the Veronese invaded the streets once again, driving to work, and day-dreaming about the next summer holiday.

He parked the car in his private underground garage, and dragged his feet to the door that connected the garage to his apartment building.

As his right foot hovered over the first step, a strange, unsettling feeling washed over him and made him freeze for a few seconds. He felt the muscles in his stomach tighten and a tremor rippled through his body. This had never happened to him before. He stood their motionless, feeling confused and ridiculous, a grown man behaving like a superstitious old fool.

He finally snapped out of it and went up the stairs, every step feeling heavier somehow.

His apartment was on the first floor, and he stopped in front of the door, patting down his pockets and trying to remember where the hell he had shoved his keys. After two full minutes and a lot of mental swearing, he finally found them in the front compartment of his briefcase.

I definitely need a holiday, he decided as he took them out and unlocked the door.

He went inside, closed the door behind him and turned on the lights. The uneasy feeling returned full force and he felt scared. He almost wanted to run out of his apartment.

Don’t be an idiot!

But as an extra-precaution he locked and bolted the door carefully. Then he dragged his feet into the bathroom, but not before he turned off the lights in the corridor. Wasting the planet’s already depleted resources wasn’t something he took lightly. He was that kind of man.

He stripped down, threw his clothes in the blue hamper behind the door, and got in the shower.

He turned his body away from the faucet and placed his hands on the wall, letting the hot water beat down his back. Doing this usually relaxed him, but now it somehow amplified this weird restlessness, this foreboding feeling he couldn’t shake off. Annoyed at himself, he quickly washed his body, turned off the faucet and reached for the brown towel on the hook.

A heavy silence filled his apartment. A few drops of water from the shower head splashed onto the ceramic tiles below, the sound deafening to his ears. His heart started beating faster. All of a sudden he wanted to hear human voices, his neighbours yelling at each other, their baby crying, anything but this dead silence and the rhythmic tapping of the water drops.

An icy shiver rippled down his spine and his body started shaking. Unseen walls were sliding down around him, trapping him. Suffocating him.

What the hell is wrong with me? Could this be a panic attack?

He had never had one in his life, but his mother suffered from them periodically. Maybe somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind the prospect of leading a lonely existence scared the hell out of him.

He took a few deep breaths and managed to bring his erratic heartbeat down a notch.

And then he heard a noise. It sounded like footsteps in the bedroom. He stopped breathing and his body went rigid. Cold water trickled from his hair down his face. And pure panic constricted his throat.

I’m naked. In the shower box.

And yet he wasn’t sure he wanted to get out. The air around him became menacing, as if something evil was lurking in the shadows of his apartment. He closed his eyes.

This is getting ridiculous! Nobody could have gotten in!

With jerky movements he dried his body, put on a pair of black boxers and an old grey t-shirt, and went to the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet to the right of the mirror and took out the bottle of Xanax he kept there for his mother. He put it on the sink and stared at it. He’d never thought he would actually come to need it himself.

He placed his palms on either side of the sink, holding himself up, his head lowered, his forehead and chin beaded with sweat.

His gaze fell on the pair of scissors he used the previous morning to cut off the plastic wrap holding two bottles of mouthwash he had bought for the price of one. Grey steel and black plastic against the immaculate white ceramic of the sink. Kind of like his own life. No colours, no joy in it.

He decided he needed the Xanax. He grabbed the bottle and was about to unscrew the cap.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

He froze. His heart started hammering hard against his rib cage.

A man’s voice. Inside his house.

His breathing turned shallow and quick, and a cold clammy sweat covered his skin.

But I locked the door. I locked the door!

Then he understood. The intruder had already been inside. The bottle of Xanax slid from his hand and clattered to the floor, rolling under the sink.

“Now look what you’ve done!” the intruder said, his jeering voice mean and hollow like a dead man’s laugh.

It came from the darkness of the corridor.

You need to do something! Do something!

He wished he knew what to do. He had never attacked anyone in his life and had no idea how to go about it. What if the burglar was armed? Maybe he should just give him whatever the hell he wanted and be done with it.

He saw the scissors on the sink.

He felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his body as he realised the man couldn’t see the scissors. His whole body tensed, his blood ran faster and his muscles were ready for attack. In one swift movement he grabbed the scissors and lunged at the figure in the dark shadows.

But instead of driving the scissors deep inside a warm body, he stabbed… nothing. He lost his balance and fell on the cold, hard tiles in the small corridor connecting the two bedrooms to the bathroom and living-room.

He didn’t have the scissors anymore. He had dropped them trying to break the fall, and they were now lying somewhere out of his reach.

He heard a laugh behind him, cruel and evil like the depths of Dante’s inferno.

“Get up!”

He did as instructed, slowly. His legs were unsteady as he had injured his right knee when he fell, and he almost felt like checking to make sure the scissors weren’t stuck in his kneecap, so excruciating was the pain.

“Turn on the light.”

With a trembling hand he flipped the light switch up.

As the warm glow flooded the corridor, he understood he was going to die.

And at the exact same moment he realised how much he wanted to live. How rich and blessed his life really was, how he still had time to meet the right woman, start a family, buy a house in the suburbs and fill it with love and laughter, just like in those sappy movies played year after year on TV at Christmas.

A scornful smile stretched across the features of this soulless shell of a man all dressed in black. “I’m afraid that’s just not in the cards for you. You see, you made one fatal mistake six years ago.” He paused, his face hard and ruthless, then added in a voice as final as a judge giving the death sentence. “You worked for Doc.”

“Who…? I never—”

The words died on his lips. The heavily guarded medical lab, the creepy doctor in charge… it all came back to him.

“Exactly,” the killer nodded as if he could actually read his thoughts. “And now it’s time to pay the price. But if it’s any consolation, you won’t be the only one.”


Author Bio:
Diane May is a crime thriller writer and she lives in Verona, Italy, with her husband. When she's not in her office writing, she can usually be found curled up on the sofa with a good book in her lap and a cup of green tea next to her.

The only daughter of an army colonel, she grew up on military bases where she learnt about weapons, discipline and the sacrifices of military life. She also worked for many years as a translator and interpreter for the Court of Law on mostly criminal cases.

EVO is her debut novel and she is currently working on her second crime thriller, Till Death Do Us Part, scheduled to be released in 2019.

 
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Friday, February 1, 2019

Cover Reveal: Book of the Dead by Nadine Nightingale

Book of the Dead
Nadine Nightingale
(Gods of Egypt, #2)
Publication date: February 7th 2019
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

Nisha

They called me Angel of Death, but I am something else. Someone else. That is, if you believe the Egyptian desert god, Seth, who haunted my dreams since I can think. Sounds crazy, huh?

I, too, thought I was insane.

Broken beyond repair.

But—

When Seth’s followers—the Black Flags—invaded our annual Halloween ball and slaughtered half the town, my nightmares became reality. Those crazy bastards think I’m the reincarnation of Nebt-Het, the Egyptian goddess of protection, that I can help Seth get his immortality back. It’s why they pushed my cousin, Izzy, through a portal to the Underworld, knowing I had no choice but to follow her.

Now, I’m trapped in this godforsaken place, forced to conquer all twelve caverns, with Seth by my side.

Blaze

I was born into a Traveler clan. Grew up with tales of warriors and magic. I thought it was all bullshit. Fairytales. Until—

Nisha Blake, the girl of my dreams, caused an earth quake.

And an Egyptian God sent his crazy disciples to kill half the town.

I failed to protect Nisha. Couldn’t stop her from going after her cousin, from walking right into hell. Now, she’s in Seth’s world, bound to do what he wishes.

Our only chance, to get the girls back, is to find The Book of the Dead—some long lost magic tome, no one has seen or heard of in ages.

Wish us luck.

We’ll need it.

 
 
Author Bio:
Nadine aka Dini is a traveler at heart. She considers the world her home and practically lives out of her suitcases. When she's not glaring at a blank page or abusing her poor keyboard, she spends her time reading, watching movies (preferably horror), pretends to work out, and hangs out with friends and family. Poor girl also suffers from a serious Marvel superhero addiction. So, if you run into her at night, wearing black, know she's secretly dreaming of being the infamous Black Widow.

Her love for writing started in the sixth grade where she annoyed her classmates with a short story featuring Sailor Moon characters, a cemetery, and creepy ghosts. Yes, she's always been addicted to the dark side. Nadine writes paranormal romance. Her debut novel "Karma" the first book in her paranormal romance series Drag.Me.To.Hell. is published by the Wild Rose Press.

 
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Cover Reveal: Fluffy by Julia Kent


Fluffy
Julia Kent
Publication date: April 30th 2019
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

An all-new STANDALONE from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent

It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.

I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.

Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.

See? That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.

Until it was too late.

The ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.

The perfect job!

Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.

They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.

The job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other people to be hard.

Oh, man…

And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.

By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an undressed naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete.

My job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?

Having all my dreams come true.

 
Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.

 
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Book Blitz: The Square by JA Huss, Johnathan McClain with Giveaway

The Square
JA Huss, Johnathan McClain
(Shape of Love, #2)
Publication date: January 29th 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

ALEC

Against all odds we found each other.

And then a single moment of betrayal ripped it all away.

I thought Christine had forgiven me. I thought we’d moved past it. I thought she’d healed.

CHRISTINE

I loved them both and they loved me.

But then Danny left and our triangle was broken.

So was I really that surprised when Alec put it back together again?

DANNY

We are meant to be together. We all know that.

But what did Alec do after I left?

What could he have possibly done to make Christine want revenge?

The Square is book two in The Shape of Love series collaboratively written by New York Times Bestselling author, JA Huss and actor/screenwriter, Johnathan McClain.

 
 
—
EXCERPT
 
CHRISTINE
 
The betrayal is still fresh. The lapse in loyalty still real.
 
And I need him to forget.
 
But even though he’s not pushing me away, and that’s a good sign, and I know with such certainty that we will be together tonight, he’s not embracing it the way I need him to.
 
So I say, “Danny…” Because I need to tell him this. I need to explain everything. But the words I need leave me in that moment and the whole act is just another bit of unfinished business.
 
“Christine,” he says, his voice low and throaty as he kisses me again. His mouth opens up and his tongue slides up against mine. And I expect him to say something like… I want to fuck you now. Or, Everything will be OK. Or, Take off your clothes.
 
Or maybe he’ll just rip this little dress off my body, toss it overboard, and throw me down onto the overstuffed pillows of the deck couch and make me obey him.
 
But he says, “You need to lower your expectations.”
 
And I don’t know why, because this is not the way this night should be going and that should worry me, but I laugh.
 
“I’m serious,” he says, his fingertips slipping under the strap of my dress and dragging it over my shoulder, leaving it like that. Unfinished, just like I left his shirt when I started the process of unburdening him. He looks down at me, his blue eyes catching the moonlight, making them sparkle in that supernatural way. Convincing me that he’s wrong. That he is my hero. Even though he says, in the same moment, “I’m no hero. You know what comes out when you poke me. Blackness.”
 
I stop breathing and study him. Shaking my head. Because it’s not true. He’s the bluest thing in the entire universe. But I don’t want to waste time explaining why he’s so perfect or how I know he’ll save me—save everyone—when the time comes. So I reach down and grab his cock through his slacks and squeeze.
 
Which makes him close his eyes and smile.
 
And reach for the other strap of my dress.
 
And drag that one over my shoulder too.
 
Unfinished.
 
But it’s enough to keep things going. Because the dress is loose. Just a simple shift that hides what’s underneath with soft white silk. So when I pull my hand away from his hard cock, it falls. Right down to my hips, exposing the lacy, white, strapless bra that covers my breasts. And one more slight tug from him is all it takes to make the white silk slide over my hips and drop to the deck. It flutters for a second, catching the night breeze the way his shirt did, and then settles at my feet in a puddle of brightness against the dark.
 
He stops and looks at me.
 
And I wonder what he sees. A beautiful, young woman in matching white lingerie?
 
A friend? A lover?
 
His goddess who will save him—save everybody—when the time comes?
 
Or… does he just see me for who I am? The traitor.
 
 
Author Bio:
Two accomplished writers come together to create unforgettable sexy romance. JA Huss is the New York Times bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today bestsellers list eighteen times. Johnathan McClain is a veteran actor and writer whose work, either performed or written, is probably airing on at least one of the channels on your television right now. You can contact them on their website www.hussmcclain.com or find them at their social links below.

STALK JULIE
 
STALK JOHNATHAN
 
Join their
 
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Book Blitz: Scarlet Toys by S.M. Shade with Giveaway

Scarlet Toys
S.M. Shade
(Violent Circle #1)
Publication date: November 28th 2017
Genres: Comedy, New Adult, Romance

Living on Violet Circle, a place that’s less of a neighborhood and more of an insane asylum poured into the street, I thought I was prepared for anything. After you’ve seen a woman strip down at the laundry room to wash the clothes she’s wearing, then saunter across the street naked, you’ve seen it all, right?

How naĂŻve I was.

After the factory closed, leaving me and a good portion of the town unemployed, I took a job managing Scarlet Toys. I knew it wouldn’t be a typical work environment, selling adult toys in a town more uptight than a constipated nun, but some things you just never see coming.

Like the protesters covered in poison ivy, screaming about smut peddlers.

Or a dancing dinosaur named Fappy.

Or the allure of the man standing in the center of all the chaos.

Wyatt Lawson, a six foot, four inch heap of muscle with a quick smile, ignited my interest in more than the available manager position. Like the missionary one. Or the rodeo. Maybe the side rider. What can I say? I’m an overachiever.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t scare easily.

This is the first book in a series of standalone novels.

Please disregard the page count during the pre-order period. This is a full length 60k+ novel.

 
 
—
EXCERPT
 
I can’t believe I’m sexting in a shoe store bathroom. A funny thought occurs to me. Since we’re going for a wax at the day spa next, I could do a little before and after picture. Jani was right when she said I’ve never sent nudes before. It’s time to live a little.
 
As quietly as possible, I put my shirt back on and slip off my panties, leaving my skirt on. Hmm…I’m not sure about the best way to do this.
 
I’m not going to squat down in here. I finally decide to put one foot on the toilet seat and then shove the camera under my skirt. The first picture is out of focus and with the light filtering through my green skirt, it looks more like a stepped on tennis ball than a vagina. Fine, the skirt has to come off too.
 
It joins my panties, hanging on the toilet paper dispenser. I’ve never felt so classy.
 
Naked from the waist down, I put my foot on the seat again, and focus on getting the perfect shot. The next one is pretty good and I send it, but I decide to take one more.
 
Why did I decide to take one more?
 
Just as I hit the button, the toilet seat slides to the side and the plastic bolts in the back holding it on both snap. The seat clatters to the floor, and my foot slides right into the toilet with a splash they probably heard on the sales floor. Thinking I’m going to fall, I panic and grab at the wall, dropping my phone, which slides out of the stall and toward the sinks.
 
So, there I am in all my glory. Naked, with a broken toilet seat looped around one foot while my other foot rests ankle deep in blue toilet water. No way this can get worse, right?
 
Wrong.
 
As I’m trying to extricate myself, I hear a small voice ask, “Mommy, what’s that?”
 
“The lady dropped her phone, Justin. Just put it on the sink for her.”
 
Oh god.
 
Oh no.
 
“But what is that? It’s weird and…hairy.”
 
Somebody please shoot me now. Where is a nice stroke or heart attack when you need one? Behind the door, a small boy is getting a look at his first vagina.
 
My vagina.
 
The toilet flushes and I hear his mother gasp when she takes the phone from him.
 
Yeah, I’m not coming out of here. Somebody is going to have to deliver my food because I’m never leaving this stall again.
 
“What is it?” he repeats.
 
“It’s just, um, a close up picture,” she stumbles, grasping for an explanation that isn’t some stranger’s vagina.
 
“Close up of what?” he insists.
 
“A…mouth. It’s just a blurry picture.” I hear the click of plastic against porcelain as she places the phone on the sink and says, “Wash your hands again.”
 
“But I already—”
 
“Again, Justin!”
 
Justin isn’t finished asking questions though. Through the running water, I hear, “It had a moustache though.
And four lips! Do some guys have extra lips? Am I gonna get more lips? Ohh! Is it an alien? Aliens can have extra lips.”

His voice fades as they leave, and I rush through the stall door to grab my phone, one shoe sloshing and leaving blue puddles across the floor. Of course, they had to have blue water. I pop off my shoe and stuff it with paper towels to mop up the bulk of the water.

That is how Jani and Emily find me a few seconds later.

 
Author Bio:
 
I'm a full time author who is hopelessly addicted to Dr. Pepper, love stories, sunshine, and men with full sexy lips, though not necessarily in that order. A voracious reader since I sounded out my first word, I started writing as a teenager and rediscovered my love of writing as an adult. Originally from Indianapolis, I now live in a small Kentucky town with my college age son.
 
I love to hear from readers so please feel free to contact me or connect with me on Facebook or Twitter.
 
 
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Book Blitz: Cronin’s Key IV by N.R. Walker with Giveaway

Cronin’s Key IV
N.R. Walker
(Cronin’s Key #4)
Publication date: January 28th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

Kennard and Stas have been enjoying being newly bonded mates, hidden away for the last six months in Stas’ cabin, deep in the forests of Northern Russia. When they get a visit from Alec, Cronin, Eiji, and Jodis, Kennard and Stas decide to return to London where they get news of a supernatural disturbance in India.

Excited for a new adventure, the band of friends embark on a journey like they’ve never seen before. Following a trail of snakes and serpents, they slip through gates into timeless dimensions all over the world, leaving them without their vampire powers. Even Alec is powerless as they follow a trail of gates and doorways to their final destination.

But the bad guy isn’t who they think it is, and Kennard will need to draw on his past to save their future. Because history is never what it seems…

 
—
EXCERPT
 
Chapter One
 
“Do you think we should try and get out of bed today?” Kennard asked.
 
“No.” Stas’ voice was gruff, warm and delicious in his ear.
 
Kennard smiled into the mattress and tried to pull himself toward his pillow, a feigned escape attempt, but Stas’ huge hand gripped his hip and slid him back into place. Then Stas rolled on top of him, his erection pressing against Kennard’s ass. Kennard lifted his hips and spread his legs, giving Stas all the permission he needed as he laughed into the sheet. “It’s been six months. I guess one more day won’t hurt.”
 
Stas pushed inside him and both men groaned. “We never leave,” Stas whispered, his fangs at Kennard’s shoulder. “Stay here forever.”
 
Kennard had always doubted the mating bond between vampires. Well, not doubted. He’d never understood it. He’d spent most of his six hundred years alone. He’d had acquaintances and friends and a lot of lovers. Yet his heart had never been moved by anyone. He almost thought it had frozen in his chest when he was changed from human to vampire, because the way he’d seen mated pairs behave was so foreign to him.
 
But then there was Stas.
 
As soon as he’d seen him, he knew. The melancholy that had settled over him in the months before, like a mist, had dissolved the moment his eyes fell upon him. His purpose was now clear. This huge, hulking Russian vampire was his.
 
They’d been holed up in Stas’ cabin in Lithuania at first, barely leaving each other’s embrace for a minute. Then they’d driven Stas’ truck to one of his cabins in some far-off Russian forest and hadn’t left each other’s side, or their bed. Except to feed, which hadn’t been anywhere near as often as it probably should’ve been, because they seemed to feed off each other. Energy, blood, love. Sex. So much sex, yet nowhere near enough. They’d barely stopped long enough for important conversations. Stas had managed to give some of his history, Kennard even less so.
 
The desire, the bone-deep need to be with Stas, to have him inside him, to be one with him was so profound it was dizzying. Kennard used to roll his eyes at newly fated mates. They used to make him sick. Now he wanted nothing more.
 
“You are everything,” Stas whispered. He ran his hand through Kennard’s hair, messing it up even further, kissing his head. “My everything.”
 
Kennard rolled his hips and pressed his forehead into the mattress, arching his back. “I ty moy,” Kennard murmured.
 
And you are mine.
 
Stas always reacted when Kennard spoke Russian. Especially in bed. He growled into the back of Kennard’s neck and sunk his fangs into Kennard’s shoulder while he thrust deeper inside him, and Kennard’s whole body sang.
 
Every cell, every fiber of his being.
 
And afterwards, when Stas had wrung Kennard of every ounce of pleasure, they lay in bed in each other’s arms.
 
“I might even try turning on that old radio set today,” Kennard said. “If the batteries work.”
 
Stas laughed. “You said yesterday. And last week.”
 
Kennard laughed into his chest, Stas’ chest hair tickling his face, but lovely and soft and warm. “I’ve lost all track of days.”
 
“I think is March,” Stas said with a chuckle.
 
Kennard found his broken English adorable, and he hummed happily. “Sounds about right.”
 
Stas ran his wide hands over Kennard’s slender form, over his pointed hip, up his spine. He was literally twice Kennard’s size. Stas had a masculine build, short, dark-brown hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw. Broad shoulders, huge hands. Everything about him screamed man. Whereas Kennard was fine-featured with pretty, boyish looks and white-blond hair. Stas was a loner, his home in the Russian wilds, in a basic cabin with no electricity or running water, and Kennard was a social guy who lived in an expensive apartment with every conceivable technology and thrived in the London nightlife. Opposites in every way, yet one perfectly complemented the other. “Do you wish to feed?” Stas asked.
 
Kennard considered it and took stock of his body, his baser need to feed. “No,” he said simply. “I don’t need anything but you right now. What about you?”
 
But Stas didn’t answer. He cocked his head and he frowned. “Hear that?”
 
It took Kennard a second to shake his mind of his post-coital haze, but then, yes, he could. “Someone is coming? In this weather?” It was snowing. The entire forest was under a blanket of white.
 
Stas sat up on the bed and pulled on some jeans. “Is human.”
 
“Can you read their mind? Do you know who they are?”
 
Stas froze and turned back to Kennard, who was still sprawled naked on the bed. “No. I not hear them.” He frowned. “How can I not hear them?”
 
Kennard sat up then. “I don’t know.”
 
Stas’ cabin was isolated, deep in some Northern Russian forest. It was old, built a few hundred years ago. A simple A-frame log cabin with a bedroom loft on the mezzanine and a small living room on the ground floor, an unused kitchen, and an old-fashioned bathtub they needed to heat water for. It was positively prehistoric compared to Kennard’s apartment in London, but it was all Stas had ever needed. He’d relished in the isolation, a reprieve from his vampiric ability to hear the minds of those around him.
 
The driveway to the cabin was long and overgrown; the cabin couldn’t be seen from the road, especially in winter. And most human drivers who passed by—of which there were few—didn’t know it was a driveway at all.
 
Stas had told Kennard he knew humans ignored his driveway because Stas could hear their thoughts. Except he hadn’t heard a thing since Alec had blocked Stas’ mind when they were in the pits under Moscow and…
 
“Have you heard anything since Moscow and Pennsylvania?” Kennard asked.
 
Stas seemed confused. “I don’t know. I think no. The campers at lake we found were sleeping, and I focus on you so much, I not notice.”
 
That was true. They’d only fed once, when some foolish hunters camped out by the lake and drank far too much homemade vodka. It was the first time he and Stas had fed together, and well… it had been a feed and fuck fest. Kennard wasn’t surprised Stas was so distracted. The memory made him flush. “Well,” Kennard said, slipping on a robe. It belonged to Stas, and it swam on Kennard—it was far from his usual stylish garb—but he didn’t care. “Let’s deal with this human first. See if you can hear anything when you speak to him.”
 
Kennard wasn’t sure of the science behind mind reading or how any vampire talent worked, for that matter, but he gave Stas a smile he hoped was a comfort.
 
A black van came into view, driving slowly, clearly very unsure or lost. It was getting dark and the van’s headlights cast a yellow light across the snow. It pulled to a stop, and after a moment, a man exited the vehicle. He slid back the side door and pulled out a large bouquet of flowers. Not just any flowers, but white stargazer lilies.
 
Funeral lilies.
 
Kennard burst out laughing, dashed down the stairs, and opened the door. The porch cover was deep enough so no sunlight could reach the front door—not that Northern Russia saw much sunshine—and the delivery man smiled at first. Then upon closer inspection, as though realizing Kennard wasn’t exactly human, or perhaps he felt the danger, that cold shiver of fear from being so close to evil, the man’s smile disappeared and he stumbled closer to the door. He mumbled something in Russian that Kennard couldn’t quite work out—huge payment, middle of nowhere?—but he handed over the large bouquet and staggered back, waving as he climbed into his van before he sped back down the driveway.
 
Kennard spun inside, twirling like a dancer, and laughed as he held out the flowers. “Well, at least we know what day it is.”
 
Stas was clearly confused. “What?”
 
“It’s March twenty-fourth.”
 
“What is the significance of this date to you?” Stas asked. “And who sent you flowers? Who even knows where we are?”
 
Kennard flitted over to his big protective lump of a mate, leaned up on his toes, and kissed him. “March twenty-fourth is a dark, dark day in England’s history. A day of mourning, really.”
 
Stas was immediately concerned and angry, even. “What is it? What happened to hurt you like this? I will find them!”
 
Kennard chuckled. “Nothing like that, my love. Cronin sends me flowers on March twenty-fourth, every year, to commemorate the union of the crowns.” Kennard frowned and sighed loudly. “A dark, dark day indeed.”
 
Stas cupped Kennard’s face. “What is this union of crowns? I not understand.”
 
Kennard shook his head sadly. “It was when a damn Scot became King of England.”
 
Author Bio:
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.

She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since…

 
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