Tag Archives: Release Blitz

Release Blitz – Adamanta Excelsior: Season 1, Episode 3 – T. Y. Carew & Jess Mountfield

 

ADAMANTA

Season 1, Episode 3: Excelsior
by T. Y. Carew & Jess Mountfield

Genre: Science Fiction
Xander’s new mission puts his crew into the path of a Beltine hive ship. No one has survived such an encounter before.
But then, no one else has highly skilled Adamanta-equipped fighters on board, either. Even so, choosing to pick a fight with the Beltine is not a clever idea. Will the humans make it out alive once they enter the lion’s lair?
Join Xander, Mattie and her friends on this fast-paced adventure to find out. 

“Get that door open, now!” Matt launched into action, not waiting for the Beltine to react to her presence. Using four of her swords as deflectors for the laser fire, she charged at the Elite Dairos. Less than a second later, she heard a pulsing alarm start up. There would be no more sneaking aboard this hive.
Two of the Dairos were dead, leaving Matt to fight six more. Thankfully, she’d closed enough of the distance between her and them that they all focused on her, and four of them backed up to try and shelter the other side of the doorway. Laser blasts flew everywhere, bouncing off her swords and the Dairos’ shields.
Matt grunted as a shot caught the side of her left arm. As the pain spread, she almost dropped the sword she carried on that side.
“Hurry up, Drew,” she yelled, not daring to take her focus off the Beltine to check his progress. She needed help. Drawing the fire in her direction and standing out in the open reduced her to defense only.
Gun blasts from behind her let Matt know she was finally not alone. Drew had let Xander and Trey onto the hive ship. The two Elite Dairos this side of the door soon lost their lives. Matt advanced on both with her body and her swords, pushing towards the door and pressuring the remaining Dairos to make a mistake.
She was less than ten meters away, still deflecting laser shots and forcing the Dairos back, when a shot from Drew went wide. It struck the panel of buttons, sending electricity crackling across the surface. The door slipped down half a foot and stuck in place before jerking down another few inches.
With all her swords on the other side of the door, Matt knew there was only one response that made sense. She pushed herself into a full sprint and dived through the gap. From her prone position on the floor, she heard the door snap shut.
Leaping up, she brought her swords in close. The remaining Dairos hesitated, whichever Kyraos controlled them evidently not having expected her reckless act. She seized the few seconds it bought her and used her mind to remove another head with the nearest floating sword. Before she could deal with the last three, they opened fire again, forcing her to defend herself.
She rolled to one side, towards the nearest Beltine, and pulled another sword from the sheaths on her back. At the same time as slicing the gun-wielding arm off the Dairos, she managed to deflect a shot back into the chest of another. The third Dairos hesitated again, giving her plenty of time to run her sword through its torso and finish off the Dairos already bleeding out beside her. She found herself hoping the Kyraos in control had felt the pain of each of them dying.
A team of humans is willing to face almost insurmountable odds to save the human race from annihilation. But quite how safe from discovery and attack is the planet the research team has been secluded on?
Matt has spent her whole life helping her parents with research that could change the fate of the entire human race. She believes it’s time to take it to the next stage and use it in active combat, but is she really ready to join the war and fight for mankind?
Xander has dedicated his whole life to the military, keeping humans throughout the galaxy alive, no matter the risks. He’s struggling not to become disillusioned when, time and again, running away is the only option. Can he find the one thing humanity needs to turn the tide, and can he cope with that thing being a person?

The mining shafts on Kudos have been producing increasingly smaller quantities of the mind-controllable Adamanta, but when you’re fighting an undefeatable enemy you have to use every advantage you can gain.

Colonel Xander and his crew are there to secure as much of it as possible for the human military force. When an explosion traps three of the crew in the mine, the race is on to save them as well as ascertain whether the small operation is under attack from the formidable Beltine.
The explosion might have been written off as an accident if Marx, the Kudos safety engineer, hadn’t found evidence of Xander’s own transport pod having been rigged with enough explosive to destroy the whole mine and every breathing being in its vicinity.
Who would want Xander and his crew dead? And what deadly secrets does Marx harbor?
Coming July 15th 2017
Anathema is hailed as humankind’s salvation. But is it?
A team of investors insists Anathema is the safest planet for our race. And Dr. Lake’s team regularly sends reports from the surface of the planet, highlighting all the ways in which humans would thrive there. Even better, the almost invincible Beltine never go near it.
In the dog house for losing the Excelsior, Xander and his team are sent ahead to prepare the planet for human colonization. With trust at an all time low, they have only themselves to rely on, but is that enough?
What will happen to Xander and his team when even their faith in each other is put to the test?
Episode 5 – Coming September 15th 2017
Episode 6 – Coming November 15th 2017
If you want to make sure you don’t miss out, you can sign up for our newsletter here.
T. Y. Carew is the pen name for an entire group of authors. They’ve come together to write the Adamanta series and other works in the same universe. So far, they consist of Stephen P. Scott, Andrew Bellingham, Ella Medler and Jess Mountifield. They’re a quirky bunch of writers, with a variety of genres under their belt and different elements to their styles we’ll hope you agree make an interesting blend. One thing they definitely have in common is the love of diving into a book and going on an adventure, be that reading or writing one!
This episode was written by Jess Mountifield.
Jess was born in the quaint village of Woodbridge in the UK, has spent some of her childhood in the States and now resides near the beautiful Roman city of Bath. She lives with her husband, Phil, and her very dapsy cat, Pleaides.
During her still relatively short life Jess has displayed an innate curiosity for learning new things and has therefore studied many subjects, from maths and the sciences, to history and drama. Jess now works full time as a writer, incorporating many of the subjects she has an interest in within her plots and characters.
When she’s not working she can often be found with friends, enjoying a vast array of films, ice skating or trekking all over the English countryside.
You can find out more about the author and her upcoming projects by following her on twitter or facebook, or at her blog.
Facebook ✯ Website ✯ Twitter ✯ Goodreads ✯ Amazon
***WRITING OPPORTUNITY***
Would you like to write an Episode?
The Adamanta project is all go now. The third episode is out on pre-order, and episodes 4 and 5 are almost ready. We’re going for 6 episodes a year, and we have one slot left for this year, and of course, spaces from next year onward.
We have collated an Author Info Pack, which you can look through if you are considering contributing to this ongoing series. Genre: sci-fi. Length of episode: 20k words approx. Stay in the Adamanta world, but write your story. You have a core of ready characters, but can write your own and use as many or few of the original ones as you like. We’ll need to keep the series consistent, but other than that you have space to play.
What we’re looking for: good story, good writing, adherence to deadlines and a willingness to help promote the whole series.
Ask EllaMedler@papergoldpublishing.com for the link to the Info Pack if you’d like to have a look.

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Filed under Book Blitz, contemporary, excerpts, New Release, Promo, Release Day, SciFi, Series

Release Blitz – Adamanta Season 1, Episode 2: Shafts of Kudos – T. Y. Carew & Stephen P. Scott

ADAMANTA

Season 1, Episode 2: Shafts of Kudos
by T. Y. Carew & Stephen P. Scott

Genre: Science Fiction
The mining shafts on Kudos have been producing increasingly smaller quantities of the mind-controllable Adamanta, but when you’re fighting an undefeatable enemy you have to use every advantage you can gain.
Colonel Xander and his crew are there to secure as much of it as possible for the human military force. When an explosion traps three of the crew in the mine, the race is on to save them as well as ascertain whether the small operation is under attack from the formidable Beltine.
The explosion might have been written off as an accident if Marx, the Kudos safety engineer, hadn’t found evidence of Xander’s own transport pod having been rigged with enough explosive to destroy the whole mine and every breathing being in its vicinity.
Who would want Xander and his crew dead? And what deadly secrets does Marx harbor? 

Doctor Willis started forward just as they were all thrown from their feet by a massive rolling quake. A sharp shockwave of air and the deafening roar of a blast accompanied the jolt. At once, klaxons began to sound throughout the facility at nearly deafening levels.
The big lights overhead swayed on their tracks and several fell nearby, shattering, throwing shards of polymer in all directions.
Xander struggled to gain his feet as rows of crops tumbled and some of the one hundred-gallon tanks of hydroponic solutions ruptured. A sudden wave of water flooded the floor of the greenhouse and toppled more plants and growing trays.
“Holy hell!” Tyra’s voice said in Xander’s ear. “What just happened down there? I’m reading heavy localized seismic activity.”
“We’re feeling heavy localized seismic activity!” Xander said, shouting unnecessarily. “I’d say it was an explosion. Are we under attack?”
“Not from anyone up here,” Tyra said. “I don’t read any bogies for millions of miles.”
“The mine!” Doctor Willis said, his voice quaking. “We’ve got to get to the mine.” He pulled himself to his feet and began picking his way through the damaged plant life.
“I’m coming down there, Colonel,” Tyra said. Xander imagined he could already hear her hands on the controls.
“No, not yet,” Xander said. “Until we know what we’re dealing with, I want you to hold position.” He followed along behind the doctor, leading his crew.
“I’m fine,” Trey said, sourly. “Thanks for asking.”
“I’d have known if anything happened to you, brother dear. I was worried about essential crewmembers,” Tyra said.
As the group pushed through into the large staging room for the mine, they were met with a heavy cloud of smoke, dust and gases billowing through the archway to the mines.
Doctor Willis made his way around a toppled set of lockers to a storage cabinet. “Breathing protection and hard hats,” he said, handing out gear.
The room was in pandemonium, with personnel rushing from every area of the compound. Xander accepted his gear and looked around at the chaotic scene.
“Doctor,” a lanky man struggling to don protective coveralls approached, “the mouth of Shaft One collapsed. We’ve got three workers trapped in there.”
“All right,” Doctor Willis said. “Let’s find Mister Marx and get his assessment.”
“And,” the man hesitated, but then pointed to a screen on the wall. “Molly is on the roster for this shift.”
Doctor Willis seemed to stagger, as if punched in the gut. He put a hand out and Mattie helped him to sit. “Molly is my wife,” he said. “She’s a master miner and ore specialist.”
A team of humans is willing to face almost insurmountable odds to save the human race from annihilation. But quite how safe from discovery and attack is the planet the research team has been secluded on?
Matt has spent her whole life helping her parents with research that could change the fate of the entire human race. She believes it’s time to take it to the next stage and use it in active combat, but is she really ready to join the war and fight for mankind?
Xander has dedicated his whole life to the military, keeping humans throughout the galaxy alive, no matter the risks. He’s struggling not to become disillusioned when, time and again, running away is the only option. Can he find the one thing humanity needs to turn the tide, and can he cope with that thing being a person?
releases May 15, 2017
Xander’s new mission puts his crew into the path of a Beltine hive ship. No one has survived such an encounter before.
But then, no one else has highly skilled Adamanta-equipped fighters on board, either. Even so, choosing to pick a fight with the Beltine is not a clever idea. Will the humans make it out alive once they enter the lion’s lair?
Join Xander, Mattie and her friends on this fast-paced adventure to find out.
Episode 4 – Anathema – Coming July 15th 2017
Episode 5 – Coming September 15th 2017
Episode 6 – Coming November 15th 2017
If you want to make sure you don’t miss out, you can sign up for our newsletter here.
T. Y. Carew is the pen name for an entire group of authors. They’ve come together to write the Adamanta series and other works in the same universe. So far, they consist of Stephen P. Scott, Andrew Bellingham, Ella Medler and Jess Mountifield. They’re a quirky bunch of writers, with a variety of genres under their belt and different elements to their styles we’ll hope you agree make an interesting blend. One thing they definitely have in common is the love of diving into a book and going on an adventure, be that reading or writing one!
This episode was written by Stephen P. Scott.
Stephen P. Scott brings a wealth of life experience, research and imagination to his writing–from the gender-bending sword and sorcery of Jordan’s Fall, to the futuristic hit man of Serving Murphy, to the cannibalistic serial killers of the Eaters series.
***WRITING OPPORTUNITY***
Would you like to write an Episode?
The Adamanta project is all go now. The first and second episodes are out on pre-order (and so will the third be very soon), and episodes 4 and 5 are almost ready. We’re going for 6 episodes a year, and we have one slot left for this year, and of course, spaces from next year onward.
We have collated an Author Info Pack, which you can look through if you are considering contributing to this ongoing series. Genre: sci-fi. Length of episode: 20k words approx. Stay in the Adamanta world, but write your story. You have a core of ready characters, but can write your own and use as many or few of the original ones as you like. We’ll need to keep the series consistent, but other than that you have space to play.
What we’re looking for: good story, good writing, adherence to deadlines and a willingness to help promote the whole series.
Ask EllaMedler@papergoldpublishing.com for the link to the Info Pack if you’d like to have a look.

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Blitz, contemporary, excerpts, New Release, Promo, Release Day, SciFi, 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.
Facebook ✯ Website ✯ Twitter ✯ Goodreads ✯ Amazon ✯ PGP author page

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Filed under Book Blitz, excerpts, New Release, Promo, Release Day, Series, Urban Fantasy

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 Blitz – Sweet Venom – Kirsty-Anne Still

Title: Sweet Venom
Author: Kirsty-Anne Still
Release Date: Feb 28, 2017
Add to TBR

There are two sides to every story.

Until there are three.

And ours isn’t for the faint of hearts.

***

SWEET VENOM is a crazy in love novel set in three point of views – crazy, crazier and craziest. This is a love triangle that is not made for those looking for an easy love story or an obvious end.
If I were you, I’d be careful who you fall for.

This is STANDALONE.
Meant for mature readers due to murder, violence and sex.

Author, graphic designer, book worm, peppermint tea obsessive.

Kirsty-Anne stumbled across her love for writing as she started university. Over the last couple of years she’s found the style of writing that best defines her and her work. Her favourite genres to write are romantic suspense with dark themes, but loves to push her boundaries.

  

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Filed under Book Blitz, British, contemporary, Dark Romance, New Release, Promo, Release Day, Romance, Suspense

Release Blitz – Beastly – Michelle irwin

 

 

Title: Beastly
Series: Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3
Author: Michelle Irwin
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 28, 2017
Blurb
Not all things are exactly as they appear.
 
Beau Miller thought his happily ever after had returned in the form of the girl with the seafoam eyes. He never expected a second heartbreak at her hand.
 
When her father, Declan Reede, turns up with murder in his eyes, Beau discovers that the break-up might not have been what it seemed. He must solve the mystery if he’s to find his girl.
 
How can he and Declan rescue their princess when she’s been taken by someone with beastly intentions? And will they make it in time?
 
**Due to strong language and sexual content not intended for anyone under the age of 18. Some books in this series contain content, including sexual assault and violence, that may trigger emotional distress in some readers.**

Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

Also Available

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

 

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited

 

Author Bio

 

Michelle Irwin has been many things in her life: a hobbit taking a precious item to a fiery mountain; a young child stepping through the back of a wardrobe into another land; the last human stranded not-quite-alone in space three million years in the future; a young girl willing to fight for the love of a vampire; and a time-travelling madman in a box. She achieved all of these feats and many more through her voracious reading habit. Eventually, so much reading had to have an effect and the cast of characters inside her mind took over and spilled out onto the page.

Michelle lives in sunny Queensland in the land down under with her surprisingly patient husband and ever-intriguing daughter, carving out precious moments of writing and reading time around her accounts-based day job. A lover of love and overcoming the odds, she primarily writes paranormal and fantasy romance.

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Release Blitz – On Unfaithful Wings – Bruce Blake

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ON UNFAITHFUL WINGS

Icarus Fell series, book 1

by Bruce Blake

 

Genre: Urban Fantasy

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.

I stood with my back to the church, much the way I’d lived my life.

Rain poured down the eaves, splashing my shoes. Each drop pattering against the leather felt as though it landed directly on my mood. I tugged my suit jacket tighter and glanced at my watch—almost eleven p.m. If the rain didn’t let up soon, Trevor would be in bed, his belated birthday present another day late. After letting him down again, Rae probably wouldn’t let me give him the gift, anyway. A heavy sigh drew the taste of rain on dry soil into my lungs as I suppressed the desire to call her names in my head, to blame her for everything. It wasn’t her fault.

There I stood, spirit as dampened by the April shower as my clothing, thinking I waited for the rain to stop, not knowing it was something else I waited for, something entirely different.

My death.

I shifted again and the plastic Best Buy bag hidden under my jacket to keep it dry slipped out and hit the stairs with a splash.

“Damn it.”

I stooped to retrieve the bag, feeling unremorseful for swearing outside a house of worship. There was no God to hear anyway and—with the Pope dry in the Vatican—who’d be offended? A plump drop of rain punished my Godly disdain with a direct hit to my left eye as I fetched my son’s gift from the top step.

I suspected the rain might not let up any time soon.

It probably couldn’t have happened any differently. Do we have any choice in what we do, or is it all pre-planned? I used to believe we did, but my beliefs—or lack of them—were about to be thrown into question, along with my opinion of what happens after we die.

I stepped back and shook moisture from the bag impatiently. It had been half an hour since the unexpected downpour began, its torrent catching me unprepared and forcing me from my planned path—to sneak Trevor his birthday present without Rae noticing me—to my current hiding spot at the church. This church of all churches.

See what I mean about choice?

If the rain wasn’t going to let up, I’d just have to get wet. I stepped from under the pathetic cover of the church’s eaves and my foot splashed in an unseen puddle, cold water soaking the Wal-Mart loafer on my left foot. Raindrops pelted my cheek and I bit back another curse as I jammed the Xbox game purchased for Trevor’s birthday into the pocket of my suit jacket and pulled the coat over my head. I felt like an idiot as my saturated footwear slurped with each step down the concrete path.

Halfway across the churchyard, I noticed two men blocking the path ahead. They wore jackets with hoods pulled up to hide their faces, keep the rain from their heads. At first glimpse, the sheets of rain gave them a ghostly quality, a glow, and made me doubt my eyes. My gaze flickered sideways to the graveyard beside the church, with its broken, moss-covered headstones canted at odd angles, but I quickly dismissed the thought. A trick of rain and poor light.

There’s no such thing as ghosts.

I slowed, wondering if the men could be avoided. Probably not. Living in the city my entire life taught me to be wary of men hanging out on the streets at night with their faces hidden. But this wasn’t the streets, it was a churchyard, and rain this heavy gave good reason to use a hood. Maybe they’d come for a little midnight prayer, eager for the best pew in the house.

Right.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I ventured drawing closer to them. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Apparently they didn’t think so. The man nearest me pulled a knife from under his forest-green rain slicker and jabbed it toward me, stabbing the rain between us. Hell of a reaction.

He could’ve just said ‘no’.

“Give me your money,” he growled.

I know you’re supposed to do what a mugger says: it’s your best shot at survival, but I didn’t. Maybe the rain made me hesitate, or the wetness in my shoes, or knowing the boy would be disappointed again; whichever, my brain wouldn’t let my body do what it knew it should. I stood taller than either of them, but they had the knife. All I had on them was fifteen years of poor eating and neglect.

“C’mon guys. It’s a crummy night and I’m two weeks late for my boy’s birthday. Let a guy be, will you? There must be some little old ladies running around practically begging to have their social security cheques stolen.”

“Shut up and give us your money, asshole.”

The man holding the knife remained in front of me as the other circled to my right, presumably to hinder any escape. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, saw rain bouncing off his gray raincoat, noticed that his runners didn’t match, but he quickly passed from view, blocked by the jacket held foolishly over my head, keeping my hair dry in case they killed me. Cool rain peppered my face as I dropped the coat back onto my shoulders and reached to pull my wallet from the inner pocket. The man with the knife lunged forward, brandishing the blade at my nose. My stomach jumped into my chest and I threw both hands up in the air like a good mugging victim.

“Whoa. You want my money, you need my wallet.”

The tip of the knife waggled in the air, gesturing for me to continue. I stared at the point of the blade, at the man’s fingerless glove and the way he’d chewed his fingers until they looked painful. Beyond his arm, I thought I saw a smile hidden in the darkness beneath the hood.

I sighed, a shuddering breath lamenting how little my wallet contained for them to steal as much as it did the fact they were stealing it. The man behind me snatched it away before it cleared my pocket, his nails raking my wrist, and rifled through the meager contents. He snatched the three bills it contained, made a face at the fifteen bucks, and then took the VISA card I’d fought so hard to get after ruining my credit a few years back. Joke’s on him if he uses it, they’ll probably ask for a payment first.

He showed the sparse loot to his partner.

“Fifteen bucks? That’s it?”

“Look at this.” He’d dug out my driver’s licence. I knew this would happen. “The guy’s name is Icarus Fell. Icarus, like in the Iron Maiden song”

“Yeah,” I said. “The guy who named me didn’t like me much. Call me Ric.”

“Sure, Icarus,” the guy holding the knife said in a schoolyard-bully lilt. With a name like Icarus Fell, I’d heard that tone enough to recognize it. He stepped toward me, blade extended to within an inch of my face. I wanted to take an equal step away, but knew his partner wouldn’t like that, so I stood my ground, hoping to look more brave than stupid. “What else you got?”

“Nothing. That’s it.”

“Check his pockets. He put something in his pocket.”

The man tossed my wallet onto the grass where it landed with a mucky-sounding splat. He advanced on me and this time I moved. He grabbed my arm, pulled me toward him.

“Don’t do nothing stupid.”

Why didn’t he tell me that twenty-five or thirty years ago?

He patted my pants pockets first—the most action I’d seen in a while—then moved to the pockets of my suit jacket; the right hand outer one produced a hollow, plasticky thud. I cringed.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” I said inching away. “A game for my kid.”

“Give it up.”

“Guys, really. What are you going to do with a video game?”

His fingers dug into my bicep. “Give it to me.”

“I already missed his birthday. Can’t you let me keep it?” I yanked against his grip knowing I shouldn’t—people got killed for less—but I couldn’t let Trevor down. Not again. “Take everything else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“There is nothing else. Give it to me,” the knife-wielder demanded.

I wondered what Rae would tell Trevor when he didn’t get a present from me again. Probably that, since someone else was his ‘real’ father, I didn’t care.

Adrenaline flooded my brain, but it didn’t heighten my senses the way they describe in books. Instead, it made me stupid. Before I realized what I was doing, I swung at the man holding my arm, my fist contacting his nose with a satisfying crunch. The move surprised both of us and he lifted his hands to his face.

It took a second to comprehend that he’d let me go. My heartbeat quickened, pulsed in my ears. I ran, or attempted to: dress shoes aren’t made for sprinting on wet grass. Both men jumped me before I got going, riding me to the ground like they were the cowboys and I was the calf. A knee pressed into my back, an elbow in my ear as my cheek sank into soggy lawn knocking breath from my lungs and hope from my heart. My clothes soaked instantly, plastering cloth to skin, the smell of wet earth filled my nose, literally.

“You stupid bastard,” one of them said, but the mud in one ear and elbow in the other precluded me from identifying which one. “Couldn’t give us the stupid game, could you?” He yanked it out of my pocket.

The pain of the knife’s tip pushing through the flesh of my lower back into my kidney hurt more than I could ever have imagined. The shock of it made me suck a mixture of cold air and dirty rain water through taut lips and expel it all in an agonized howl. The knife rose and fell again, then again, perforating my internal organs, each stab more painful than the last. Each time it pulled free, I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in that it would end, that I would get up and hurry on my way to see Trevor.

My body jerked and spasmed beneath the men straddling me, my bladder let go. After the fourth time the knife entered me, my flesh went numb. It may have pierced me a few more times, but I lost interest in counting. I gasped air in through my mouth and the breath tasted like the black crud scraped off bread left too long in the toaster. And blood.

“That’s enough. Let’s go,” one of them said, presumably the one not engaged in shredding my bowels.

Their weight lifted off my back and my mind told me to roll over and sit up, defend against further attack, but my muscles would have nothing of such a proposal, so I lay on the wet grass doing the only thing I could: bleed. Maybe I wept a little, too, but who can tell in the rain?

“I guess Icarus really did fall, didn’t he, Ric?”

Their laughter didn’t sting nearly as much as the knife, and it dissipated much more quickly as they ran off. I was used to being teased but couldn’t say the same of being knifed. After they left, my ragged breathing and the sound of rain pattering around and on me became my world. I never realized how much noise rain hitting grass made until my ear was pressed to the ground with no choice but to listen.

My stomach knotted as the gravity of my situation set in: after eleven on a Wednesday night, bleeding on the lawn outside an empty church in the kind of downpour that convinced people not to venture out for a chat with God.

Did I mention I was bleeding? A lot?

Water pooled in my ear canal until the unnaturally loud plop of rain drops splashing into the tiny pond drowned out even the sound of my breath. Not steady, metronomic drips like I imagined a water torture would be, but an uneven patter that, should I live long enough, would likely prove equally effective at driving me crazy.

“Help.”

In my head, the single word came out a scream, shaking trees and rattling windows, attracting the attention needed to save me so I could see my son again, even if it was for the last time. In reality, it was more of a peep. I closed my eyes and sucked dirty water through my nose then coughed it out my mouth. The pain it induced in my back and side hurt worse than the original stabbing, like someone stood over me with a hot poker pressed to my side, except I was cold and wet and bleeding to death, too. A hot poker didn’t sound so bad.

“Help,” I peeped.

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ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST

Add to TBR list on Goodreads.

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?

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 day – Beast – Debra Anastasia

SURPRISE!!

Debra Anastasia has a release for you. Beast is now LIVE!!

Synopsis:

I knew who he was before he introduced himself. Jeans and a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head. The hem of the material hid his face like he was the grim reaper. Or a Dementor.  Legend has it that he’s a serial killer. And that he is covered in abs. Ribbed for a lady’s pleasure.

And he just programed his number in my phone.

34384644

 

Buy Links:

 

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Release Blast – Bare Wires – Cherime MacFarlane

BARE WIRES

The MacGrough Clan Series, prequel to Wired for Sound (coming soon)

by Cherime MacFarlane

Genre: Romance

Lori Ann Reasor is about to get her big break, a gallery owner in Brighton likes her work. To celebrate she treats herself to tea in a posh establishment. What she discovers there puts her off men. She will stick with painting.

Hamish is trying to hold Bushmaster together long enough to get them signed to a contract. With a prima donna and a junky in the band, it’s not easy. Bushmaster is on the verge of blowing sky high. The two young people are converging as their dreams play out. Can they both keep it together?

The album was done and over with when the band went on tour once again. The first venue down, they quickly had to go searching for a base player when Miller nearly died of an overdose that morning. He was done. A quick call to Warren had the man on the phone to every agent he could find.

Hamish got a call just as they were getting ready to leave the hotel for the airport. A very young bassist had been signed and was on the first flight out of L.A. He would meet them in Berlin. With a shake of his head, Hamish informed the rest of the band in the limo.

As Hamish was certain he might, Vincent had a tantrum. How the hell was he expected to keep everything working smoothly when the lineup was constantly changing? Hamish endured the tirade in silence with the rest of the men.

With a shrug, MacGrough broke out his flask. “Miller isnae doin so well. Tha eejit nearly snuffed himself. I’m nae sure how his family are gonna take it.”

The other members of the group felt something for the man they had played with for years. Vincent Slaughter didn’t give a damn about Sandy Miller. Lurch’s dark eyes stared at Hamish whose fingers were white where he was clutching the flask.

The message was clear when Walker shook his tobacco brown head before turning to Vince. Lurch was going to have a say. “You are a piece of work man. Don’t you even give one tiny little shit about a guy you’ve worked with for years?”

Thud joined in the chorus. “Use some of those upper crust manners yur always yappin about. Shut yur face for a bit. If Warren is sending tha kid, he has tae know somethin.”

Vince opened his mouth to speak. Faced with the frowns of the other players, he snapped it shut. For a change their flight was quiet. No one felt up to commenting on the plight of someone they had known intimately for years.

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HIGHLAND LIGHT is a historical romance set in 1308 during the Scottish war for independence.

A young Scots girl cannot find a man who appreciates a headstrong plain woman. A small group of Knights Templar escape to Scotland to hide and start new lives. Among them is a young man, a ward of the Master of the Temple. The men have brought a treasure to Scotland. In exchange for a large share of the treasure, the knights may marry and be adopted into certain clans. No one must know of the agreement. Each man has a duty to the clan they are adopted into, and a duty owed to Robert The Bruce.

One young man has been with the Templars since the age of ten. He knows nothing of relationships or women. Their wedding is a business arrangement. Having no experience of sex or marriage, the young couple make a game of loving and learn of life together.

Let the games begin.

WIRED FOR SOUND

It is 1988 and the band Bushmaster is on its 4th album and 2nd US tour. The front man, Vince Slaughter, is electrocuted on stage at the sound check. Everyone had a motive, but the keyboard player Hamish MacGrough is especially concerned as his wife may have had an affair with Slaughter. Was she involved, can they get home to Scotland before their window of opportunity to do a singles album closes? Hamish’s search takes him up and down the western coast from Los Angeles to Washington state. Through it all his main concern is keeping his wife out of the running as a prime suspect.

Although born in New Orleans, I am proud to call myself an Alaskan. I have lived here since 1977. I have seen -40 degrees, hauled water, made bear bacon and I live in a cabin. I have used a fishwheel to catch salmon coming up the Copper River. I was my second husband’s chief mechanic’s helper and roadie. I have cut firewood on shares. I worked as a cocktail waitress during pipeline days in a small lodge on the Richardson Highway.

My second husband, a Scot from Glasgow, was the love of my life. When I write Scots dialect, I personally experienced hearing it from my in laws. When my husband got on the phone to Scotland, after 5 seconds I could barely understand a word.

We moved to Wasilla to get warm. It barely drops past -25 degrees here in the winter. I became a paralegal and worked for over 26 years for the same firm.

Alaska is my home. I never thought I would love it so much, I never want to leave. The beauty of Alaska is a draw I cannot resist. I love the people and the history. I have been captured by a place I came to under duress. Life does play some interesting tricks on one. My love and I were not apart more than 24 hours for 20 plus years. I never wanted to be anywhere but with him. He was a man to run the river with and was my biggest fan.

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Release Blitz & Giveaway – All it Takes – Clare Dugmore

I’m thrilled to announce Clare Dugmore’s dual-POV
contemporary romance ALL IT TAKES is out now, exclusively on Amazon Kindle, and
in paperback.

Title: All It
Takes
Author: Clare
Dugmore
Genre: Romance
Release Date:
February 14, 2017
Description:
All It Takes is one night to change the rest of their lives.
Graduating Uni, travelling Europe and buying her own place –
these are on Megan Green’s to-do list.
At just twenty-two, becoming a mother isn’t.
Fast cars, expensive clothes and bedding a different women
every night – this is how Kian Murphy spends his time when not in the MMA ring.
Pre-natal scans and birthing classes are not on his agenda.
After a chance meeting and passionate encounter, Megan finds
herself pregnant with Kian’s child. But with a womanizing reputation, and a
temper that often leads him into trouble, Kian is hardly boyfriend material,
let alone father material.
Now Megan and Kian must work out if they have All It Takes to
turn their one-night-stand into a relationship that will connect them for a
life-time.
All It Takes is a dual-POV new-adult, contemporary-romance
about responsibility, love and discovering who you are in life.

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