Category Archives: Release Day

Release Tour & Giveaway – Words and Dreams – Laura Strickland

 

 

WORDS AND DREAMS

Sequel to Forged by Love (Book 2 of the Lobster Cove series)
by Laura Strickland
Genre: Historical Romance
Dorothea Sinclair has left her small home town in Maine and come to Boston to begin a career as a newspaper reporter. But so far her job on the Guardian has proved disappointing. More skivvy than reporter, she’s even been subjected to a humiliating proposition from the chief editor’s son. She needs a break but never expects it might come from a chance meeting with an Irish ruffian.
There’s a great deal of injustice in Boston, and O’Hare, embroiled in his fight for equality on behalf of Boston’s Irish, is well aware of it. When he rescues Dorothea’s hat on the waterfront, he’s surprised to learn she’s a reporter. And when she offers him the opportunity to state his case in the Guardian, what can he do but accept? It’s the perfect chance to put his dreams into his own words—and the only sure way to see her again. 

He sported a long, leather coat, well-scuffed and worn open to show a pair of rough trousers and a workman’s shirt, unbuttoned at the throat.
Nothing wrong in that. Dorothea’s own father was a worker, if a skilled one—the blacksmith back home. This man had no blacksmith’s build. Instead he looked light on his feet, square-shouldered and graceful as quicksilver. Brash confidence rolled off him in waves.
As she stood staring across the road in consternation, he held up her hat and grinned before casting a look both ways and jogging over to her side.
He brought a presence with him that backed Dorothea up a step or two. She might credit it to the set of those fine shoulders or the grin that still occupied his face or the swagger he displayed that made the most of his height which, surely, didn’t top six feet.
He reached her, spent an instant examining her closely and presented her hat with a sweeping bow worthy of a practiced thespian.
“Lovely miss, I’m thinking this belongs to you.”
“Yes. Yes it does, thank you.”
Dorothea reached for the hat but, like the rascal he undoubtedly was, he kept it from her grasp, pretending to examine it closely. He brushed off a bit of grit from the brim and fingered the now-tattered veil.
“A mite worse for its adventure, but no doubt you can mend it, women having a certain magical talent for such things.”
Again, Dorothea reached for her hat; again he kept it from her only to take a step closer and set it on her head.
“There you go, beautiful lady. You will be sure and hold on to it more closely next time.”
Dorothea, assaulted by the full force of his masculinity, said nothing though she reached up one hand and clamped the hat to her head. She looked into his face and all the breath fled her lungs.
He wore no hat and had a head full of copper curls well-tossed by the wind. His face screamed Ireland with a broad forehead and slightly-squared jaw all sprinkled with freckles visible even beneath his worker’s tan. His eyes—but no. Dorothea met them once before her gaze skittered away much as the hat had, only to return again on a rush of fascination.
Tawny gold as those of a tom cat, his eyes held a world of emotions: amusement first of all, that flaming confidence, an uncanny wisdom and a hint of daring. Dorothea responded to the last first—seldom did she fail to accept a dare. 

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When the trawler White Gull was lost in a storm off the coast of Lobster Cove, Lisbeth O’Shea’s husband, Declan, was lost along with it. At least that’s what Lisbeth believes until, a year later, she hears Declan’s voice in the night and sees him haunting the shore near their tiny cottage. Then she wonders… Has grief affected her mind? Or is someone playing a cruel trick?
Town blacksmith Rab Sinclair has loved Lisbeth ever since he arrived in Lobster Cove. Lisbeth has never had eyes for anyone other than the charming, feckless Declan O’Shea, but Rab knows Declan was not faithful to Lisbeth. How can he convince the grieving widow she’s pinned her heart on the wrong man? And when dangerous secrets come to light, how can Rab protect the woman who means more to him than his own life?
Newly returned home to Lobster Cove from the War Between the States, blacksmith Douglas Grier can’t forget the horrors he’s witnessed or the beautiful young woman he helped break free from her shackles one dark night after her master’s plantation burned. He wishes he had at least asked her name, even though she and her family disappeared into the darkness and Douglas has no expectation of seeing her again.
Josie Freeman can’t remember the last time she felt safe. Even though she and her family are freed, they’re being pursued by slave hunters hired by their former owner. When their ship is damaged on the way to Nova Scotia, Josie is thrown into contact with the one man she never expected…the very man she had wanted to see. But will her past catch up with her before Douglas can free her heart?
Award-winning author Laura Strickland, born and raised in Western New York, has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic and music, all reflected in her writing. She has made pilgrimages to both Newfoundland and Scotland in the company of her daughter, but is usually happiest at home not far from Lake Ontario, with her husband and her “fur” child, a rescue dog. Author of Scottish romances Devil Black, His Wicked Highland Ways, Honor Bound: A Highland Adventure and The Hiring Fair as well as The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy consisting of Daughter of Sherwood, Champion of Sherwood and Lord of Sherwood, she has also published three Steampunk romances, Dead Handsome: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure, Off Kilter: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure and Sheer Madness: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure as well as two Christmas novellas: The Tenth Suitor and Mrs. Claus and the Viking Ship, and a Valentine’s novella: Ask me. Her Lobster Cove Historical Romances include The White Gull and the novella, Forged By Love, which won first place in the International Digital Awards. Her latest release, Words and Dreams, is the sequel to Forged By Love.
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Filed under Blog Tour, excerpts, giveaway, Historical Fiction, New Release, Promo, Release Day, Romance, Series

Release Blitz – All Who Wander Are Lost – Bruce Blake

 

ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST

Icarus Fell series, book 2
by Bruce Blake

Genre: Urban Fantasy
If we’re good, we go to Heaven; if we’re bad we go to Hell. No one wants to go to Hell.
Except one man who wishes people would just remember to call him Ric.
In the aftermath of a serial killer’s murderous spree, souls who didn’t deserve damnation went to Hell. The archangel Michael doesn’t seem concerned, but Icarus Fell can’t bear the guilt of knowing it’s his fault they ended up there.
But how can he save them when the archangel forbids him from going and his guardian angel refuses to help?
The answer comes in the form of another beautiful, bewitching guardian angel who offers to be his guide. They travel to Hell to rescue the unjustly damned one by one, but salvation comes at a cost and the economy of Hell demands souls.
Is it a price Icarus is willing to pay?

Chapter One
When your guardian angel and her friend, the archangel Gabriel, tell you to stay put, it’s probably a good idea to listen.
I should have, but I have inexplicable difficulty with authority figures. It gets me in trouble. A lot.
An old Buick sat to the right of my motel room door looking like it hadn’t moved in a decade or so, and it certainly hadn’t budged since I checked in; a few other cars were parked in the motel’s lot but there were no people. I stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind me, the click of the lock firecracker-loud in the winter night.
I paused. Still no one around. I breathed deep and stepped away from the door, the first time I’d been outside the dingy, musty-smelling room in weeks.
A month ago, the police found a tranny prostitute named Dante Frank dead on a bed in a five-star hotel, hairy chest and hairless vagina exposed for the world to see along with the biblical references his killer carved in his flesh. Dante, whom I’d known as Danielle Francis, was the last victim of the serial killer dubbed the Revelations Reaper by the media. The police had a suspect in the string of killings: me.
I didn’t kill any of them but, if the truth be told, their deaths were on me.
Forget the angels telling me to stay indoors, the fact the local news had been flashing an unflattering picture of my face on the screen every night until a week ago should have kept me inside my seedy room. But you know what they say about common sense…it ain’t so common.
Icarus Fell: living proof.
I didn’t think that because they finally stopped plastering my face all over the six o’clock news they’d stopped looking for me. Every cop in the city likely still carried my picture like they were at war and I was their girl waiting for them back home, but after four weeks in my motel-room-prison, the prospect of remaining inside held as little appeal as being girlfriend to a bunch of cops. I’d spent every moment of the last month thinking about my role in the deaths, wishing things were different. Another minute trapped alone with my guilt might prove one too many.
I slipped away from the motel and down a side street, disappearing in shadows and down alleys wherever I could. The taste of impending snow in the early December air fortified my lungs.
As I ranged farther from the motel, the garbage strewn on the streets and graffiti tags spray-painted on walls — ‘Big Turk Wuz Hear’ and other poetic gems — became less frequent until they disappeared completely. I’d made my way to a neighborhood where people cared, a fact which should have rang alarm bells in my head and made me more careful, but the lack of hookers and drug dealers lifted my spirits and my worry ebbed taking caution along with it.
Dumb ass.
I paused at the intersection, the lights of an approaching car reflecting on the frost-rimed pavement as I waited to be sure it would obey the stop sign. Without the fresh air loosening my wits, I’d have waved him through, but freedom made my head light in the way of a non-smoker after a few drags on a cigarette. The car’s brakes squeaked as it rolled to a halt. I stepped off the curb and raised a hand in thanks, squinting against the lights, but couldn’t see the driver. Hand replaced in pocket, I continued on my way, thinking nothing of it until I heard the hum and chatter of a power window in need of repair.
“Hey, you.”
The words weren’t spoken with the timbre of someone in need of directions. The caution and worry the beautiful night had leeched from me flooded back; I quickened my pace.
“Stop.”
I broke into a run before his engine roared and tires chirped. Cutting across a well-manicured lawn, I hopped a fence, ran through a back yard dominated by an inter-locking brick patio and an in-ground pool emptied for the winter, then vaulted another fence into a rear lane, cursing my stupidity with every step.
Despite a house between us, I heard the car’s engine rev and labor as the driver gave chase. I dove through a line of tall shrubs, their branches scratching my face, and into another yard, keeping my flight to places the car couldn’t go. Ten minutes of fence-jumping and shrub-diving later, I emerged on a sporadically lit street. Familiar graffiti scrolled across the side of a building; Big Turk and his poor spelling were back. Close to my motel. My lungs labored, the cold air hurting my chest instead of refreshing it as a stitch in my side dug in and grabbed hold. I stopped to catch my breath, bent at the waist, hands grasping knees like the world’s worst marathoner run out of steam, but rest didn’t last long. A siren wailed behind me and I forced my legs back into action.
I darted into an alley and the all-too-familiar stink of garbage and piss, depression and decay hit me immediately. I’d lost so many days and nights of my youth in alleys like this, sleeping off a bottle of vodka or poking a needle in my arm. I forced the thought from my mind. This was no time to self-analyze by way of shitty memories.
Tires screeched at the mouth of the alley. I didn’t look back, my attention taken by a figure stepping out of the shadows into my path. A Carrion, I assumed–a human-shaped demon sent to collect souls and make my life difficult–but I quickly realized the silhouette was smaller and more feminine, leaving two possible people. Angels, really. I halted a few paces beyond arm’s-reach in case I was wrong.
“Hey, mister. Long time, no see.”
I recognized the voice immediately. The angel stepped into the light and I saw her gingerbread hair, glimpsed the freckled skin of her cheek.
“Gabe.”
The Archangel Gabriel is the messenger. She brings scrolls with my assignments inscribed on them: who’s scheduled to pass, where, when, and where to take them when it’s done.
I couldn’t think of a worse time for her to show up.
“Did you miss me?”
Her pure voice echoed off the alley walls and a chorus of swallows which always accompanied her, but that I couldn’t see in the dark, chirped and chittered on a fire escape overhead.
“Don’t have time right now, Gabe,” I said breathlessly and glanced over my shoulder. The alley remained empty, but it wouldn’t for much longer.
“Here.”
She offered a scroll which hadn’t been in her hand a second before.
“Really, Gabe? I don’t–” I gestured toward the alley at my back, offered a pleading look. She shook the scroll at me and raised an eyebrow.
I’d learned the hard way that harvesting wasn’t the kind of job you could slack off at; the hard way seems to be how I learn pretty much everything. I gave in without any real fight.
My finger brushed hers as I grasped the rolled parchment and an electric charge prickled the hairs on my arm, bringing with it a longing to spend time with her, to be in her presence as long as possible. I nearly forgot the man chasing me.
“Gabe, I–”
She smiled and shrugged. “You don’t have time, remember?”
Swallow wings beat the air above my head as she walked away. I stared after her for a second before pulling myself from the angel-induced stupor to look at the scroll in my hand. This was my second assignment since everything went down: the deaths, the media frenzy, the explosion at the church. What happened to souls during my seclusion? Did they make other arrangements or were they okay with everyone going to Hell for a few weeks while I got my wits about me? Great vacation for me, but kind of sucked for everyone else.
Unrolling the scroll unnerved me. After being given one inscribed with my son’s name, I couldn’t help but hold my breath. Probably would every time I did it.
Shaun Williams.

I set my captive breath free. Didn’t know him. The address scrawled on the yellowed parchment wasn’t familiar either, but I knew the city well enough to recognize it was close. I read the time of death, then checked my watch.
Two minutes from now.
The sound of shoes hammering pavement reverberated off the alley’s brick walls. I got my legs moving again and took a corner, feet tangling in a pile of garbage bags and spilling me to the pavement. My shoulder hit hard and I skidded a couple of feet along the damp ground, filth snow-plowing onto my jacket. I scrambled to my feet, glanced ahead and behind as the footsteps grew louder, and realized the futility of my flight. Facing my pursuer seemed the only option. Maybe I could talk my way out of it before my appointment came and went.

Damn it.

Bad things happen to good people when I miss appointments. And to bad people; also, the Swiss.
I backed down the alley and didn’t have to wait long for the man chasing me. He rounded the corner, avoided the garbage bags which had tripped me, and skidded to a halt in a pool of light cast by a security light mounted high overhead. The dress pants he wore looked a year or so beyond their best-before date; a long wool coat covered a rumpled dress shirt which may never have made a dry cleaner’s acquaintance. I might have noticed more but the gun in his hand distracted me.
“Mr. Fell,” he said between panted breaths. “If that’s really your name.”
“It’s the name the bastard gave me,” I muttered glancing from gun to a face I’d met a few times and seen many more on the news. The muscles in my jaw clenched and released as I silently counted the passing seconds in my head. “We seem to meet under awkward circumstances, don’t we, Detective?”
“Sometimes happens between serial killers and cops.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Right.” He leveled the gun, his eternally tired eyes unwavering. “And I’m Serena Williams. Put your hands behind your head.”
A little firework went off in my brain, interrupting my mental countdown. He obviously wasn’t Serena Williams — wrong sex, wrong skin color, and he didn’t look like much of a tennis player — so why pick her out of a thousand possible celebrities to use sarcastically? I chanced pissing him off and stole a peek at my watch: t-minus one minute. My gut wrenched one twist to the right.

If I don’t get out of here quick–

The thought cut off half-formed, bullied aside by another. The detective was the lead investigator in the Revelations Reaper case, the guy the newscasts interviewed no matter how uncomfortable he looked on camera, so I’d seen his face a hundred times on TV. And every time they showed him offering his oft-quoted ‘no comment’, they emblazoned his name on the screen in white letters.
How did I miss it?

Detective Shaun Williams.
I raised an eyebrow. “Detective Williams?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Now that we’ve been properly introduced, put your fucking hands behind your head before I shoot you.”
I peered past him, then to both sides. With his name on the scroll in my back pocket, there had to be someone waiting to ambush this man scheduled to die in about forty-five seconds.
“You need to get out of here,” I said, eyes still searching the shadows. “You’re in danger.”
“Me?” He stretched his arm toward me, pushing the barrel closer. “If you don’t get your hands up right now, you’ll never walk again.”
The seconds ticked off in my head, echoing down the hallways of my mind. I gritted my teeth, fought the compulsion to try and save him.
Not my job.

They sent me to retrieve his soul after his death, not prevent it. But so many already died because of me and my poor choices. Maybe this was an opportunity to make amends–with myself, if no one else. My eyes found his and held his gaze for a second; I didn’t have much more than that.
“You’ll thank me for this later,” I murmured and darted toward him, moving faster than he expected an out-of-shape-almost-forty guy like me could.
He squeezed the trigger but I was on him before he got the shot off. The gunshot nearly deafened me, the explosion echoing through my head, ringing in my ears. My arms encircled him, pinning his at his sides, and inertia carried me forward, driving him to the ground. Breath whooshed out of his lungs when we hit, but I didn’t let go.
“This is for your own good,” I said into his ear. His body jerked but my grip held. The last few seconds counted down in my head.
Five…four…three…two…one.

When I reached zero, I held on a few seconds longer in case my timing was off or my watch was slow. Nothing happened. No gunshot, no one jumping from the shadows; a grand piano didn’t drop from a balcony. Nothing.
I leaned back, a hand on his gun arm to prevent him from shooting me. Some thanks that would be for saving his life. I gripped his wrist expecting him to squirm away, but he didn’t. His lack of movement should have tipped me something was wrong, but I was too concerned with making sure we weren’t about to be attacked to notice. Nothing moved in the shadows, no one approached down the alley.
Could the scroll have been wrong?

Unlikely, but it happened before, when other forces manipulated events. How did I know the same wasn’t the case this time?
I didn’t.
A small movement caught my eye and I looked left to see a figure standing five yards away. Fear forced bitter, electric saliva into my mouth like I’d bitten down on a piece of aluminum foil, and I snatched the gun from Detective Williams’ hand, jerked it toward the silhouette. The man didn’t react, but simply stood watching. His presence made a knot form in my stomach which worked its way quickly into the back of my throat. The figure stepped forward into the light and the muscles in my forearm tensed, my finger brushed the trigger. It only took a second to realize he wasn’t as opaque as he should be.
This wasn’t a man, but a dislodged soul.
“What–?” I began but the lump in my throat got the better of my voice.
My brain finally registered the detective’s lack of movement and I looked from the soul to the detective’s face. His tired eyes stared up at me blankly; a dark circle of fluid spread across the grungy pavement beneath his head.
“No, I–”
The sight of his glazed eyes hit me like a spinning kick to the gut, stealing my breath and energy. My gun arm sagged, the police-issue .38 resting against my thigh, forgotten. I resisted the urge to shake him by the lapel of his wool coat or slap him awake, call out his name. I already knew what the result would be. The overhead light reflected in the pool of liquid around his head making a grisly halo.
I was responsible for another death.
I shook my head in disbelief and looked back at the spirit. There were no black bags under its eyes or worry lines at the corners of its mouth, but there was no mistaking to whom the soul belonged: except for the felt fedora tilted over the soul’s left eye like he’d stepped out of a Mickey Spillane novel, the spirit wore the same clothes.
“I didn’t–”
My words stuck again. Or maybe I didn’t want to complete the sentence because it would make what happened real. No need to worry, the ghost took care of that piece of business for me.
“You killed me.”
To some, death is the end; to others, a beginning. To Icarus Fell, it should have been a relief from a life gone seriously awry.
But death had other plans.
Icarus doesn’t believe that the man awaiting him when he wakes up in a cheap motel room is really the archangel Michael, or that God’s right hand wants him to help souls on their way to Heaven. Icarus doesn’t believe there’s a Heaven, so why should they want his help?
But the man claiming to be the archangel tempts him with an offer he can’t ignore–harvest enough souls and get back the life he wished he’d had.
It seems Icarus has nothing to lose, until he botches a harvest and the soul that went to Hell instead of Heaven comes back to make him pay by threatening to take away the life he hoped to win back.
To save the wife and son he already lost once, Icarus will have to become the man he never was. Somehow, he will have to learn to believe.
Bruce Blake lives on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. When pressing issues like shovelling snow and building igloos don’t take up his spare time, Bruce can be found taking the dog sled to the nearest coffee shop to work on his short stories and novels.
Actually, Victoria, B.C. is only a couple hours north of Seattle, Wash., where more rain is seen than snow. Since snow isn’t really a pressing issue, Bruce spends more time trying to remember to leave the “u” out of words like “colour” and “neighbour” than he does shovelling (and watch out for those pesky double l’s). The father of two, Bruce is also the trophy husband of a burlesque diva.
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Release Tour & Giveaway – Midnight Weary – Monika Summerville

 

 

MIDNIGHT WEARY

by Monika Summerville


Genre: Erotic Romance
Ian Deatherage’s past is a shadow. He’s doesn’t make friends traveling from place to place on his motorcycle. When it breaks down he has twenty dollars in his pocket, he’ll have to find a job to pay for the repairs.Kris Marcus is the owner of The Scamp. She offers Ian a bouncer job. Ian works for a week and the relationship between he and Kris builds and boils over into a night of hot passion. His words to her – I don’t do gentle – turns out fine. She isn’t used to soft touches.

Ian and Kris dance around each other and find a hot attraction. She figures once his motorcycle is fixed he’ll leave area and wants to protect herself. He doesn’t know committed relationships and isn’t sure what to do.

After several weeks of burning sex, Ian convinces Kris that he doesn’t want to leave. Will she let him stay or watch him go?

 

EXCERPT #1
The bartender continued to check back with him every half hour or so. She seemed nice enough, but he knew she only did her job. Her brown hair shimmered in the dim light in the room and her ass looked great in her tight jeans.
A half hour on the dot since her last visit, she came up to his table.
“How are you doing?” she asked for the hundredth time.
“I’m okay. Can I ask you a question?”
She’d started to turn, but stopped and waited. “Sure.”
“Does anyone around here need a day worker for a week or two? You know heavy lifting and that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know. You might find a stocking job at one of the grocery stores. It will be a month or so before the farms start getting their fields ready for planting. Why?”
“My motorcycle is being repaired and I need to come up with the bucks to pay it off.” He saw her brows crease and knew what she would say. “Don’t worry. I have some money to pay for my meal, just not enough for repair bills.”
“No. I wasn’t thinking that,” she said. “We could use a bouncer. Do you have any experience with that type of stuff?”
No, he thought. “Yeah, I can do it.” How hard could it be?
“How’s fifteen dollars an hour to start? If you work out, it could go up to twenty.”
“I doubt I’ll be here that long, but fifteen would work. Who do I talk to?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s the owner? Don’t I have to talk to him?”
She laughed. “I’m the owner. This was the easiest interview ever. Can you start tomorrow?” She leaned her hip against the table and her eyebrows rose.
He looked up at her and tried to smile back. “You own this place?”
“Yeah. Don’t piss me off and we’ll do just fine. Start tomorrow at five.”
“I’ll be here. Thanks.” Ian watched her walk away. “Hey. What’s your name?”
She turned back and laughed again. “Sorry, I’m Kris Marcus.”
“I’m Ian Deatherage.”
“Guess I shouldn’t call you death or rage, huh? It would be bad for business.”
“Would it be okay for me to crash here tonight? I can sleep on the floor.”
EXCERPT #2
Ian liked to watch her move, though. Her curves were nice and soft, and her ass would fit his big old hands just right. Sitting up straight on the stool, he looked away from her and around the room.
Do your job, asshole. You can’t fuck the boss, he thought.
Around one-thirty Kris brought him a cup of coffee and during the transfer ran her finger over the back of his hand and looked at him.
“I know you’re watching me.” She smiled.
“So?”
“So, nothing. Do you like what you see?” She turned and walked back to the middle of the counter swishing her hips. When she turned back, she winked at him and then took an order from a waitress.
When the bar closed, the crew cleaned up, collected the garbage, and put the chairs up on the tables.
As the other employee’s left, he watched Kris turn off the lights behind the bar and move to the stairs. Before she started up, she turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. Ian locked the front door and turned off the Open sign. He stood by the door, looked at the stairs and wondered if he could put this in the good idea column. Should he screw her? His cock said yes, but his head went into a fog.
He went up the steps, turned into the office and saw her perched on top of her desk. She watched him move into the room and he could feel her look burn into his soul. Stopping in front of her with his thighs against her knees, he could feel heat come off her. One of his hands developed a mind of its own and reached up to her cheek. He ran his thumb over her lips.
“I don’t do gentle,” he said.
She bit his thumb and looked up at him. “I don’t like gentle.”

[Siren Allure: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, sex toys, HEA] Riley Frost is an attorney. He played in the BDSM community as a Dom and liked to be in control. He’d never found a woman with a sense of adventure and passion, until one night when he walked into a bar and… Sophie Pantagen is the vice-president of her father’s company, Pantagen Industries. For the past ten years she’s spent a couple evenings a month having one-offs with men whose names she never new. That was until one night in a bar when Riley and Sophie find each other at a time when both are looking for something. They’re not sure what it is they want, but think they may have found it. Sophie’s father is a cut-throat business man and when he thinks Sophie tells company secrets he comes after her with vengeance. Pantagen Industries begins to fall apart. Sophie is fired from her position and threatened by her father with an Edgar Allen Poe nightmare result.

[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romantic Suspense, HEA] Turner Black works for a group in Seattle that helps find people who were separated from loved ones for one reason or another. He’s hired to find the half-sister of a man, Stewart Tarver. Their shared father has passed away and left the half-sister part of a large inheritance.

Turner finds Rae Smith. She works as a stripper at a dance club in Tracy, California. She always wanted to be a ballet dancer, but the death of her mother took that dream away and Rae started to strip when she turned eighteen years of age. From one club to another, she is happy to just survive.
Turner and Rae are drawn to each other and, although the sex is great, she isn’t big on commitments and doesn’t want to deal with the inheritance game. And someone tries to kill her and then kidnaps her for sale to a slave trader in Hong Kong. Will she be able to trust Turner?

[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romance, HEA] Jarrah Hejazi is an ex-Marine, who defended his country and now owns a security company. He’s worked, but forgot to live. On a visit with friends at Safe Haven, he meets Grace McKay and a boy named Jonah. Haven is a place where street kids get help and feel safe. Little does Hejazi know that within a couple of months his life will change one-hundred percent. Grace McKay, an ex-marine, works at Haven. She’d heard the owners talk about their friend Hejazi and when they meet, there’s more she wants to know. Hejazi and Grace surrender to their attraction and work to find the brother of Jonah. The brother was taken by Feathertop, who gives street kids a safe place to live and then trains them to pick pockets, rob cars and homes. Dealing with a team member off the grid, and being chased by people who want them dead, Hejazi and Grace have to figure a way to keep it together.

 

 

Monika Summerville is an avid reader, loves good tense movies, and works hard on her writing. She lives in Western Washington State with her four cats, Agamemnon, Tazmania, Jasper and Jericho.
She has written A Risky Dance and A Lost Dance for Siren BookStrand. The third book – A Flame Dance – is available now.

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Release Tour – The Redemption of Joseph Heinz – Michele E. Gwynn

 

 

THE REDEMPTION OF JOSEPH HEINZ

The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series, book 3
by Michele E. Gwynn

Genre: Crime/Thriller
The Kommissar is back, and going rogue in St. Petersburg! A new lead on a cold case, one that has haunted Heinz, and nearly cost him his career now offers a path to redemption. A ledger containing the names of abducted girls recovered from the Vledelets during the Ivchencko affair offers renewed hope. With the wedding to his partner-turned-love of his life, Birgitta Mahler, drawing near, Detective Heinz must find a way to close the door on his guilt once and for all. But will his decision to investigate the disappearance of Marlessa Schubert lead him to an answer he can live with or an early grave? All roads lead to one destination, Warehouse 214, and one man, Vladimir Breshnev, known to his enemies as ‘the Butcher’, and to Interpol as the leader of the Russian mafia. Unsanctioned, and on his own, Heinz pursues his demons. When he fails to check in, his protégé, Officer Elsa Kreiss, must call in a dangerous favor. If she succeeds, Heinz will make it to the church on time, but if she fails, he’ll arrive in a box.

“I have your papers.” She pulled a packet out of her shoulder bag, and shoved it across the table at him. “Don’t open it here. Just put it in the seat next to you. Inside is your new passport. Your name is Martin Lintz, and you are an Austrian school teacher. You teach mathematics to ten year olds. Your birthdate remains the same for ease in remembering should anyone ask, and your address is your old house where you grew up.”
Heinz’s eyebrows shot up. “And how do you know that address?”
She shrugged. “I know everything about you. Faust provided most of it, the rest I dug up on my own.”
“Christ, there’s just no privacy anymore.” He shook his head.
She remained unfazed. “No, none. You will find a new cellular inside. It’s clean and registered to Martin Lintz. You can call whoever you need to, and it will route through your other account. “There is also a baggage tag for your suitcase. You can pick up your ticket to Saint Petersburg at the Air Baltic counter.” She held out her hand.
Heinz looked at it. “What?” he asked.
“Hand over your phone and passport. You can’t take them with you. They will give you away should you be caught.”
“I’m just supposed to leave my personal phone and passport with you? How will I get them back?”
“I will express mail them to Faust as soon as I leave here. They’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
Joseph sighed. He wasn’t happy about turning over his personal information to this young woman, but it was also obvious that she already had all that since she freely admitted to digging around in his business. He pulled the phone and passport out of his pocket and handed them over.
“Now, in addition to the new phone, there is also Russian currency so you don’t need to stop anywhere to exchange. The amount is five thousand Euros in rubles. You have something for me?”
“Oh, yes.” Heinz reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thick envelope, handing it over.
She held it in both hands, weighing it. When she was satisfied, she got up. “Thank you.” She turned to leave.
“Wait!” Joseph sat straight, watching her.
“What?”
“That’s it?” He was shocked at their short exchange.
“What more did you expect?”
That got him. What did I expect? He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it all just seemed rather abrupt.”
“I got the distinct impression that you, yourself, didn’t care for bullshit.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, her face absent any emotion.
“I suppose not. Never mind. Thank you.” He dismissed the girl. 

 

 

 

Sarah Brown sets out on a journey to sensual self-discovery and falls face first into danger. In Barcelona, Anthony de Luca, a renowned travel author and photographer, unleashes the full force of his charm that threatens to steal her heart, a prize he openly admits he doesn’t want. Still, she can’t resist him, and finds herself experiencing the heights of ecstasy and the lows of heartbreak as her lover leaves without a word. In Berlin, Paul Christiansen, a handsome Dutch Lothario with a sordid past, works his wiles to seduce her body while in the shadows, a predator stalks a young boy close to Sarah determined to get what he wants or kill anyone who gets in his way. One of her two lovers has led a dangerous criminal straight to her door, but which one, and who can she trust? 

What happens when Berlin’s premiere dominatrix trades in her whip for a badge and gun? She discovers she cannot completely escape her past. With the help of the detective who saved her little brother’s life, Elsa Kreiss enters the police academy, expecting her world to now be far safer. Instead, it only becomes more dangerous!
An unsolved case of three missing girls from Charlottenburg pulls her mentor, Kommissar Joseph Heinz, back into the dark abyss just as he realizes he’s in love with his partner, Birgitta Mahler. While he searches for a killer, she fights an attraction to a very sexy bad boy. Lukas Trommler is everything she likes in a man; cocky, confident, and hot. An art buyer at a local gallery, Lukas exudes culture with an edge of danger. He invites her into his world where she comes face to face with a familiar monster, Yuri Ivchencko, one of the most powerful and wealthiest men in the world with ties to the Russian mafia and human trafficking. His obsession with the sick and twisted side of human nature expressed in art offends Elsa, who doesn’t hesitate to say so. Her outburst lands her squarely on his radar. When Elsa is reported missing, Heinz must put aside his case to rescue his protégé. The operation brings him face to face with a man from his past, the evil Russian he believes responsible for the cold case that haunts him still.
The stakes are high as they race to save several young women now at the mercy of a sadistic billionaire now bound for St. Petersburg, The fate of those kidnapped, should Elsa and Heinz fail, will be worse than death.
Extra!!! As an added bonus for all my Berliners, I will be offering the Prequel to The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series, The Making of Herman Faust, to ALL of my current and NEW Newsletter Subscribers. This novella WILL NOT be available anywhere else. It is EXCLUSIVE to my dedicated subscribers. The Making of Herman Faust will be available in May, 2017.
Michele E. Gwynn is a Bestselling Multigenre Author of Crime/Detective books, Sci-Fi/Horror books, and Paranormal/Supernatural romance books in San Antonio. She previously wrote for newspapers, magazines, and online websites. As a journalist, she’s covered news and events, and conducted countless celebrity interviews.
She has 3 series currently with several stand-alones, and more books coming!
She resides in the small town of Schertz, Texas on the northeast side of San Antonio with her four felines who so graciously allow her to reside in their home.
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Release Tour – The Exchange Series: The Complete Collection – M. B. Feeney

 

 

The Exchange Series: The Complete Collection

by M.B. Feeney

Genre: YA/NA Romance
Born and bred in the UK, Holly is getting the chance of a lifetime—six weeks abroad. The Kings, a host family in the US, have invited her to stay with them and get a chance to experience life as an American. When she discovers that the King family includes two teenage boys, will she be glad she came or ready to hightail it back across the pond?
Aiden King’s heart has been broken, and he’s taking his anger out on his brother, Tyler.
Can he, with the help of his High School Guidance Counsellor, work through his problems.
Tyler King has moved away from his family in order to help himself move on from the mistakes he made in High School.
A summer romance could lead to so much more, it could lead to him finally surrendering to his repentance for his past actions.
Ellie King has a plan. Do well in her Senior Year at High School before going to study in London, England. That’s all she wants in her immediate future.
Writing to John Davids not only cements her desire to study in the UK, but gives her more if a reason to leave her family in the US.
Reluctance Excerpt


December 2011

So, Ms. “It’s MIZZ not MISS” Jones gave me this journal. Apparently writing my feelings down will help me deal with my ‘anger issues’ and the ‘depression’ I’ve been suffering since Jessie ended things between us.
I admit, I am angry, and have been for two months, but I’m not depressed. Yeah, I was hurt and shit, but now I’m just angry. All the time; an emotion I’m not used to feeling so much. Up until now, I’ve never done the ‘angry’ stuff; never even knew I had a temper as such.
She’s ‘advised’ me to start at the beginning as much as I can with these dumb entries. I don’t want to do it, but as we have to read them together at our weekly meetings, I have no choice. At least one entry a day. . . This whole thing sucks ass.
There’s no point starting at the very beginning, though; back then everything was good; real good. No, I think my seventeenth birthday is where I need to start this thing. . .
Aiden
Repentance Excerpt
When his mom first told him a British chick was coming to stay with them, Tyler had been like a shark tasting fresh blood. He was going to charm her into his bed, then let her head back home, he hadn’t forseen her coming back thanks to his brother knocking her up. What choice did any of them have but to have her in the house, this time permanently?
“Hey, where d’you go just then?” Anna’s question brought his attention back to the present. Once again he could feel the warm sand on his bare feet and her small form in his arms. He smiled down at her.
“Sorry, I was thinking about home.” He bent to capture her lips with his own. The kiss making his heart rate pick up as every other kiss they’d shared had done. When he boarded the plane back in Arizona, he’d never expected much to happen on his vacation. He’d planned on lounging on the beach during the day, and drinking in bars in the evenings, but as he was checking into his hotel, he’d spotted Anna struggling with her bags and from the moment he’d helped her into the elevator, his plans had changed.
Plans that had never included falling in love with someone in a two week period.
M. B. Feeney is an army brat who finally settled down in Birmingham, UK with her other half, two kids and a dog. She often procrastinates by listening to music of all genres and trying to get ‘just one more paragraph’ written on whichever WIP is open; she is also a serious doodler and chocoholic. Writing has been her one true love ever since she could spell, and publishing is the final culmination of her hard work and ambition.
Her publishing career began with two novellas, and she currently has multiple projects under way, in the hopes that her portfolio of what have been described as “everyday love stories for everyday people” will continue to grow. Always having something on the go can often lead to block which eventually gets dissolved by good music and an even better book.
Her main reason for writing is to not only give her readers enjoyment, but also to create a story and characters that stay with readers long after the book is finished, and possibly make someone stop and think “what if . . . ”
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New Release – Nuts About You – Various Authors


The Nuts About You charity anthology has stories from 18 different authors, 15 of which are BRAND NEW romance stories all written from a male POV wrapped up in one amazing anthology! There is something for everyone in this romance anthology, including comedy, contemporary, MC, M/M, erotica, BDSM and more.

It’s not for the faint hearted.

All profit will benefit the Male Cancer Awareness Campaign and Worldwide Cancer Research.

 

 

Also available in paperback on Amazon

 

 

 260k words, 17 stories all for #99p #99pennies #99cents
 
Join the Facebook release party & charity auction group, where we have some fantastic giveaways and items to be auction for these two amazing charities.
 
Accidentally on Purpose by S.E. Hall & Ashley Suzanne
Ashes To Ashes by Tess Oliver
Without Question by Lucy Felthouse
Nutt Cracker by Skye Turner
Since I Now Have You by S M Phillips
There’s No Place Like Home by Jade C. Jamison
Love Letters by Jamie Lake
Love Thy Neighbour by J A Melville
Right Here Waiting by T.a. McKay
A Pets Reward by Don Abdul
Taco Tuesday by Xavier Neal
First Ink by Amy L Gale
My Wicked Stepsister by T.S. Irons
Catching Mallory by Xana Jordan
The Ball In My Court by T.H. Snyder
A Beautiful Heart by Michelle Rene
 
Brought to you by Love To Read Romance Books
 

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Release Tour – A Boy from the Streets – Maria Gibbs

 

 

A BOY FROM THE STREETS

by Maria Gibbs


Genre: Urban Drama
Two babies abandoned at birth—one grows up in a life of privilege, the other in poverty.
On the 12th of September, 1981, twin boys are born in a Brasilian hospital and left to their fate as orphans. Jose is adopted by a couple who takes him to England, but the other isn’t so lucky. Pedro ends up on the streets of Rio, left to fend for himself in a harsh and unforgiving world.
Love and betrayal.
Twelve years later Jose’s family returns to Brasil, where he learns the truth about his adoption and his twin. Thinking his adoptive parents no longer want him, he runs away to find his brother. What follows will shake Jose to the core and shape the rest of his life—if he can survive.
Murder.
Jose isn’t the only one whose life will change. Pedro is offered an opportunity beyond any of his wildest dreams, but to keep it will mean the betrayal of someone he loves. This proves to be a far greater challenge than he anticipated when the orphan finds himself suddenly surrounded by family who, unfortunately, don’t all have good intentions.
Hopes and dreams.
A Boy from the Streets will tug at your heart-strings and have you rooting for the little guy as you follow the twists and turns this multi-continental tale takes.

“Fernando, we must take them both, we cannot separate twins.”
“Christina, you’re too soft, we can’t bring up two children. You’re not strong enough to cope with the needs of twins. Your constitution is weak. It would be unfair to all of us.”
“I know my health is delicate, Fernando, and I will always regret that I can’t carry your baby to term inside me, but I know I can love and care for these twins. We can afford to hire help…” She trailed off when she saw the determined jut of his chin, the expression that brooked no further argument. Christina decided to try one last tug at his conscience anyway. “If we leave one behind, he might end up on the streets, an urchin living in squalor and fighting to survive… if he even makes it past babyhood.”
“Christina, your abundance of love does you credit, but I have no doubts the other boy will be adopted also. The only thing left to do now is to choose which one you would like?”
Christina’s heart sank as she looked at the two bundles in front of her. He was asking her to choose one, like picking out a pair of shoes from the rows on display in a shop. One stirred and let out a howl, disturbing his twin. It was almost as though he were alert to the inherent danger in this situation and was warning his brother.
Christina reached out a hand to each of them, touching their delicate tiny fingers and marvelling at how small, how fragile they were. Both lay quietly now, staring up at her with eyes as yet unable to focus. The boy who had been woken by his brother curled his tiny digits around her finger. In that moment she knew. He was asking her for help. The other twin would have the strength and tenacity to face whatever life threw at him. Christina couldn’t think about that, now that the decision was made. There was no hope of changing Fernando’s mind.
Without a further glance to the brother, she scooped up her new baby, cradling his floppy head and bringing him close to her chest so that he could feel her heart beat and know he was safe. She started to walk away with Fernando’s supportive hand between her shoulder blades. The baby in her arms let out a whimpering cry, and his twin, who still lay in the cot, responded with a heart-breaking howl which tore at her heartstrings and caused Christina to pause her flight. Fernando’s hand applied gentle pressure while she lifted one leaden foot in front of the other. A silent tear fell from her face onto the baby in her arms. She muttered a quick prayer for his twin.
“All that’s left now is to fill in the paperwork and the boy is ours.” Fernando’s handsome face broke into a smile. He reached out and touched the silent baby in his wife’s arms.
“You are to be our son,” he crooned. “We must think of a fitting name to honour your new status in the Sanchez family.”

“Jose, after your father.” Christina dimpled as Fernando rewarded her with a winning smile then pulled her and their new baby into his arms before placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

I’m a self-published author who released her first novelette in January 2015 ‘As Dreams are Made on’ which was closely followed by my second one in February of the same year ‘A Lifetime or a Season.’
In 2016 I released ‘The Storm Creature’ after writing it for an anthology.
2017 will see the release of a novel which I am excited about ‘A boy from the Streets.’ During that time, I have also been working on a number of other WIP’s which are in the pipeline. I don’t fit into any neat genres where my writing is concerned, I am a ‘pantser’ and write anything that comes into my head. So my books range from thrillers, to romance, from paranormal, time slip to contemporary women’s fiction.
I started reading as soon as I was able to and followed on by writing soon after. My biggest influence as a child was Enid Blyton who taught me that books were an escape to new and exciting worlds. I love reading books from a wide spectrum of genres, if the cover attracts me and the blurb stacks up then I want to read the book. When I’m not reading or writing, or doing my full-time job I enjoy travelling, crafting, horse-riding and riding my motorbike.

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Release Tour & Giveaway – Abbey’s Search for Sanctuary – Eris Field

 

 

ABBEY’S SEARCH FOR SANCTUARY

Destiny: Choice or Chance, book 1
by Eris Field


Genre: Contemporary International Romance
Abbey’s Search for Sanctuary, Stand-alone Book One of Destiny: Choice or Chance Trilogy. A riveting story of violence against women including baby girls and those who fight to protect them.
Turkish-American nurse Abbey shelters her younger sister after she divorces her Muslim husband when she learns his mother is going to perform a circumcision on their baby girl, Jenny. When her sister is murdered by her ex-husband, Abbey knows she must find a way to keep Jenny safe.
Once a Peshmerga fighter and medic with the Kurdish forces in Iraq, Rami now works with refugees in Buffalo. Shunned by his grandfather and family for failing to demand retribution when his arranged marriage failed, Rami avoids emotional attachments. That is, until he meets Abbey.
Warning Abbey that honor killings are often family affairs and she and Jenny are in danger, Rami offers her a way out: a marriage of convenience and refuge in his homeland, Kurdistan.
Abbey is committed to doing anything to protect Jenny but can she face going back to the world of her childhood: a world of headscarves and submission, a world that scarred her mother and killed her sister, a world she escaped once?

“Relationship!” Abbey exploded. “There is no relationship between a Muslim man and a woman. He’s the owner and she’s his property. She’s not even a second class citizen in her own country.”
“It’s never been that way for Kurdish women. They have never covered their faces or worn those black shrouds. Some choose to wear headscarves and some don’t. They wear brightly colored clothing. They like colors, especially amethyst” He became more serious. “They have fought alongside their husbands for centuries. They believe it’s better to die in battle beside their husband than be raped as one of the spoils of war.” He spoke more calmly, “Women are pushing for changes. They want to get rid of polygamy, forced early marriages, and female genital mutilation. . . . We’ve talked about what we don’t want. Now we must learn what each wants in life. Tell me what’s important to you.”
“A family. I’ve always dreamed of having a family.” She felt a blush creep over her cheeks but she forged on. “Not just two children. A real family, at least four children.”
“You say ‘at least’?”
She lifted her eyes to his. “Do the math! I am twenty-six. I would be very fortunate if I had four babies.”
“What else is important to you?”
“I want to stay me.” She hurried on at the sound of his glass hitting the table. “I remember when my mother and father lived here, in Buffalo. She was happy. They laughed together and did things together.” She shifted and sat back on her heels in front of him. “When my father took us back to Turkey, to Gaziantep, it all changed.”
“How did it change?” Rami asked somberly.
“There were so many things she couldn’t do.” Abbey choked up. “She had to have my father’s permission for everything! My mother couldn’t go out alone, not even to go shopping. She couldn’t drive the car. She had no money of her own and no friends. Slowly, the beautiful, happy mother I had known changed. When her father finally was able to bring her home, to his home in Orchard Park, she was just a shadow of herself, worn away by the rules. She brought Jeyda and me with her but she had to leave my little brother in Turkey . . . with his father.” Her voice broke as she reached for her wineglass. “The same thing happened to my sister. She met her husband when she was teaching at the University at Buffalo and he was a graduate student from Egypt. Before they were married, they did everything together. Then, when they were married, it changed.”
“Tell me. Did your sister help him get his ‘green card’ so he could stay in this country?”
“Yes. She was so much in love. She wanted to do everything to please him.”
Abbey wrapped her arms around herself. “I tried to warn her . . .Almost instantly after they were married, everything changed. Jeyda could not go out of the house without his permission. She had no money. He took away her credit cards and cell phone. He didn’t want me to visit her.” She reached involuntarily for his hand and felt him lace his fingers with hers. “He did not want her to talk to me on the phone. I begged her to leave him but she was pregnant and afraid.” Abbey shuddered. “I didn’t think she would have ever left him but when she learned they were going to cut baby Jenny . . .”
As a seventeen year old student nurse at Albany Hospital, Eris met a Turkish surgical intern who told her fascinating stories about the history of Turkey, the loss of the Ottoman Empire, and forced population exchanges.
After they married and moved to Buffalo, Eris worked as a nurse at Children’s Hospital and at Roswell Park Cancer Institute. During the time she took time off to raise five children, she amassed a collection of rejection letters for her short stories. Later, Eris returned to school and earned her master’s degree in Psychiatric Nursing at the University at Buffalo. While teaching psychiatric nursing at the University, she wrote a textbook for psychiatric nurse practitioners—a wonderful, rewarding but never to be repeated experience.
Now, Eris writes novels, usually international, contemporary romances. Her interest in history and her experience in psychiatry often play a part in her stories. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the Western New York Romance Writers. In addition to writing, Eris’ interests include: Prevention of Psychiatric Disorders; Eradicating Honor Killings, supporting the Crossroads Springs Orphanage in Kenya for children orphaned by AIDS, and learning more about Turkey, Cyprus, and Kurdistan.

 

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Release Tour & Giveaway – Tender Echoes

 

 

TENDER ECHOES

A Dark Prequel to Digital Velocity (The McAllister Justice Series Book 1)
by Reily Garrett

Genre: Suspense/Thriller
Theft of spirit is no one’s birthright.
A quirk of her X chromosome furnished Alexis with an edge few others enjoyed. After fate plunged her into orphan status and an intolerable foster home forced her to the streets, a group of prostitutes sheltered her from their vicious pimp. Seeing something special within, they nurtured and shielded her from their harsh reality until she could forge her own path in life.
Destiny frequently takes us back to our roots. Lexi’s return journey begins when a serial killer attacks one of her adopted sisters. Relying on courage and wit, she must stay a step ahead and secure evidence to free her family from a psychopathic murderer.

“Jesus, Charlie. Hold on. I’ll get you to a hospital.” Lexi swallowed hard against the rising tide of acid degrading her throat’s lining as the unfolding scene corrupted her sanity. Pressure against the makeshift bandage on Charlie’s belly wound yielded a deeper crimson soaking her jacket, the provisional dressing secured by fingers encased in a thickening, sticky glove. So much blood.
This could’ve been Lexi’s fate—stabbed, slashed, disfigured for all time, blood forming rivulets pooling in the alley’s filth. Maroon puddles mingled with body fluids common to alleys sheltering the homeless as if destined to couple in a macabre, virulent concoction.
“R-run, Lexi. D-don’t let him make you a w-whore. I wasn’t—strong enough. Y-you were never p-part of the street life.” Trash and other filth from the narrow passageway cushioned Charlie’s bruised and battered head. One front tooth was missing, probably swallowed, while blood seeped from jagged slashes on her cheeks and brow, both career enders in the event she survived. “You shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake to text you, but the cops wouldn’t believe us girls.”
“Did your pimp do this, Charlie? What’s his real name?” Tell me so I can help you.
Remnants of a cardboard box, a vagabond’s homemade privy, retained odors of the dispossessed, rivaled only by the excrement saturating every molecule of thickened air drawn into her lungs. This was no place and no way to die.
“Yeah—said I stole from a customer. But I didn’t. The b-bastard just wanted a freebie.” Otherworldly pain glazed eyes forecasting a nonexistent future while icy wind leached color from a once-beautiful face now smeared with crimson streaks and pain. “Won’t tell you his name. I didn’t want to die alone. You’re f-free. You made it.”
“No, Charlie. I’ll get help. Lie still while I secure a pressure dressing.” This late at night, there’d be few cars to flag down and no foot traffic from which to enlist help. She was forced to rely on emergency personnel who’d classify the incident as NHI, no human involved.
Terror-induced flashbacks spewed forth of a stranger offering refuge to a teenager standing on a precipice, a choice. She’d first thought him relatively handsome, not understanding the slimy base of his character. She’d had no experience with pimps. Still, something inside steered her away from his pleasant façade. Perhaps she’d sensed his underlying character. Instinct had directed her to the unknown, where a small group of prostitutes offered shelter and nurtured her mind.
With one hand, Lexi freed her belt and maneuvered it under the fallen girl’s tiny waist amid groans and mewling cries. Youth and a livelihood from flatbacking necessitated a svelte figure, which facilitated her efforts to cinch the leather strap tight. Lexi reached for the cell clutched in Charlie’s hand, knowing the late hour meant a longer wait for help. Her fingers, covered in sticky crimson ropes of blood, tangled briefly with Charlie’s, a squishy squeeze to lend encouragement. Another bolus of acid rose in her throat.
“No.” One word spoken from the disembodied voice behind her could flash freeze Hell and instigate the formation of ice crystals in any world, under any circumstance.
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COMING APRIL 24!
“Digital Velocity is a fast-paced romantic suspense thriller that sophisticatedly weaves drama, excitement, grit, raw emotions and mystery. Garrett takes her readers on a journey where suspense and romance are taken up several notches as she unfolds and reveals the identity of a murderer that is on the loose. With her vivid prose, Garrett entices readers to see the bond that is brewing between Detective Ethan McAllister and his unlikely informant.” Michelle Tan, RT Book Reviews

Keyboard prodigy, Lexi Donovan has risen from teenage orphan of the streets to complete independence with little help along the way. When a friend is threatened, Lexi’s anonymous message sends police into a firefight, leading to a wounded cop.

Detective Ethan McAllister’s well-ordered life turned upside down the day an obscure text message led to a sexual predator’s identity. Since then, Callouston PD’s finest can’t trace the elusive hacker. The latest tip leads him to a brutal mutilation and a riddle indicating the identity of the next murder victim.
The dark net houses a playground for the morally depleted and criminally insane. When Lexi discovers the killer’s digital betting arena, she finds herself centered in a cyber stalker’s crosshairs bearing equal talent.
Street life strengthened Lexi while toughening her protective shell, but nothing could shield her from the shrewd detective forging a path to her heart.
Reily’s employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction.
Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed…after the kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.
In life, hobbies can come and go according to our physical abilities, but you can always enjoy a good book. Life isn’t perfect, but our imaginations can be. Relax, whether it’s in front of a fire or in your own personal dungeon. Take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.
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Release Tour – Rana: Teenage Queen – Liza O’Connor

 

 

RANA: TEENAGE QUEEN

by Liza O’Connor

Genre: YA Fantasy
Rana was only sixteen when she became queen. Her first challenge was quelling an internal coup while a massive army stormed the gates of her castle. Her enemies thought her a child, but she had powers they never suspected. She also had great dreams for her people, and she would do whatever was necessary to make them happen, even marrying a prince she did not want.
Claiming the right to be queen and becoming ruler of Stronghold turned out to be two very different things. Upon locating the bodies of the king and queen, the first point became established as fact.
However, the ministers wished to declare her a child, incapable of ruling Stronghold.
“I may be small in stature, as my mother, but I am a woman and if you call me a child again, I will have you thrown in prison.”
Minister Jerome sneered and shook his head. “Listen to her! Only a child would make such a threat. We have laws. One cannot be thrown in jail for speaking the truth.”
“General, arrest this man for treason.”
General Collins did not budge from her side, but with the slightest nod, two of the general’s soldiers moved quickly to secure the errant minister.
The minister attempted to break from their hold. His attempts would have been laughable if the situation was not so dire. “You cannot arrest me for treason just because I speak the truth! And who are these men? They are not of our army. Where is General Hack?”
She waited until the man was gone before addressing the others. “General Hack assassinated my father.”
“Do you have proof?” Another minister challenged.
“You have my word on the matter. I was there. I saw it all. He ordered his men to fire into the tower, claiming it had been overrun with the enemy. Only he knew that was not true since he had just left the tower. He knew the only two people within were myself and his king.” She eyed the ministers, waiting for further traitors to identify themselves by arguing with her.
Unfortunately, the remaining ministers, whether for her or against, had the sense to keep their mouths shut.
Liza O’Connor was raised badly by feral cats, left the South/Midwest and wandered off to find nicer people on the east coast. There she worked for the meanest man on Wall Street, while her psychotic husband tried to kill her three times. (So much for finding nicer people.) Then one day she declared enough, got a better job, divorced her husband, and fell in love with her new life where people behaved nicely. But all those bad behaviors has given her lots of fodder for her humorous books. Please buy these books, because otherwise, she’ll become grumpy and write troubled novels instead. They will likely traumatize you.
You have been warned.



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