Daily Archives: 31/03/2021

BLOG TOUR – A Lair So Sinful by Zoey Ellis

A Lair So Sinful, an all-new standalone fantasy romance from bestselling author Zoey Ellis is available now!

From a dark, magic-ravaged world comes an enthralling new fantasy romance series. Five brothers, last of an ancient Alpha bloodline, each bound by fire and blood to their majestic dragons.

Captive in a dragon lord’s lair. No memory. Stripped bare.

I’mya awakens to find herself the property of Nyro—a rare and powerful Alpha bonded to a monstrous dragon. Like the other women in the lair, her only purpose is to satiate his every fantasy, but the beautiful omega is hiding a dark secret—even from herself.

From the first explosive encounter with Nyro, her incredible power is unleashed.

His carnal desires feed the fire of her magic.

Nyro’s captivation with her turns to possession, and I’mya becomes more than a plaything for him.

But as shards of her memories puzzle back together, her mind finally unveils the compelling truth.

A purpose much more sinister than pleasure.

Passion. Obsession. Betrayal.

I’mya must fulfill her quest, regardless of the cost. Nyro has conquered her body, but if he discovers the truth behind her presence in his lair… it is her life he will take.

A LAIR SO SINFUL is the first book in an adult fantasy romance standalone series. This story includes romance of a dark nature and a HEA.


Download your copy today!


Amazon: https://amzn.to/3dppgwV
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/LairSoSinful
Apple Books: http://apple.co/3pynLPF
Nook: http://bit.ly/3pzs1y2
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ZrTtTM
Google Play: http://bit.ly/3ujxTzp

Add A Lair So Sinful to Goodreads:

http://bit.ly/37tc3PV


Excerpt

Suddenly, the fire stopped; everything was quiet.

I’mya inched her head up to see if the dragon had gone, but instead a figure loomed over her, blocking her view.

It spoke, and a deep, rich voice vibrated through the entire area, penetrating her body and sending a rush along her limbs, but its words were not clear.

I’mya lifted her head, blinking at it.

A man loomed over her. He had wide, muscled shoulders, toned arms and a broad chest with a torso that tapered down to a slimmer waist; his legs just as thick as his arms. In truth, he was a perfectly formed man—except he was enormous.

Dark, tousled hair fell to the top of his ears, and a low-cut dark beard spread over the lower half of his chiseled face. Long lashes framed the dark fury of his eyes, directed at her as he stepped forward.

I’mya panicked, but she couldn’t move. She was too weak to do anything. Thankfully the dragon was no longer attacking, but she heard the sound of its wings beating beyond the opening of the cavern. She wasn’t exactly out of harm’s way, especially when she didn’t know this man’s intentions. This mountain lair, or whatever the grey-cloaked woman called it, was a dangerous place to be. 

She had to get out.

The giant man lunged forward, and I’mya squeaked as his hand closed around her neck. He yanked her upward until she was on her feet, then he leaned in, his dark eyes peering at her face, and her naked body. “’et khadon yo ma si kon’aya” The words boomed out of him and vibrated against her chest, even though I’mya was certain he wasn’t shouting. She tried to shake her head, eager to explain she was here by mistake, but it was impossible to swallow let alone speak.

“ko’lat ‘et numakh tmo’ shaf bok ma si tumezni?”

Surely he wasn’t expecting her to respond? Not with his fist so tightly wrapped around her neck? I’mya exhaled in annoyance, her nostrils flaring.

The man’s head tilted, a brow inching down to a frown as he studied her again. I’mya hoped she didn’t look like a trespasser, or even worse, a criminal. This might be the only time that being naked might work in her favor, though it wasn’t as though she looked good. This place was too hot. Sweat slicked her skin and her hair had to be a ragged mess. Hopefully she looked so out of place that this giant would discard her so she could get as far away from the Forbidden Mountain as possible. “Kev,” he murmured, dragging his eyes down at her body again, lingering in places they shouldn’t. His eyes darkened. “si zmusho da dvan. ‘Et lat tan itzutz de da tzo kon’aya.”

I’mya had no idea what he was saying, but the bass of his tone and the look in his eyes ignited a tingle in the pit of her stomach and the most delicate shiver skipped up her spine. The man’s scent was equally provocative. Rich, decadent tones of charred darkness emanated from him, as though he had bathed in the flame and smoke of a thousand midnights. It was potent and intoxicating, and affected her just as powerfully as his voice. Within moments, her nipples hardened, and the tingle in her stomach developed into an ache between her legs.

An even darker look entered the man’s gaze as his nostrils flared.


About Zoey Ellis


Zoey Ellis writes dark, magical, fantasy romances about tortured, possessive, alpha anti-heroes and the sassy heroines who belong to them (even if they don’t want to!). Filled with passionate, carnal steam, Zoey’s stories feature couples that go through tough journeys and make mistakes but ultimately have to grow for each other to survive the dark worlds they inhabit.
Described as ‘deliciously dark’ and ‘unputdownable’, Zoey’s thrilling, fantastical romances come complete with roller-coaster twists and turns, unique worlds, and happy endings.
Zoey is a Londoner, cat mama, and proud romance and epic fantasy addict. She loves jealous/possessive heroes, sexual tension that jumps off the page, and memorable, magical worlds. She reads most genres of romance and has a special love for the ‘true mates’ trope and dark angst. However, she enjoys all different genres of fiction, usually on the darker side.
When not working on her stories, Zoey is usually gaming, buddying reading with friends or stumbling upon new and ridiculous ways to mess up a date!

Connect with Zoey
Facebook: https://bit.ly/3efpbbT
Dark Halos Facebook Group: https://bit.ly/2Wanne3
Instagram: https://bit.ly/2OhNb3y
Bookbub: https://bit.ly/3gUPuWR
Twitter: https://bit.ly/3iVLYNq
Website: http://www.zoeyellis.com


BLOG TOUR – Oops, I’ve Fallen by Max Monroe

Oops, I’ve Fallen, an all-new laugh out loud romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!

If my time with Ryan Miller were a hit track on the radio, I imagine the lyrics would go something like this…

“We’re so different, but they say opposites attract. Oops, I’ve fallen, and my heart doesn’t want to come back.”

But, holy bingo night, is my attraction to the sexy, broody businessman so much more complicated than the chorus of a song.

His dad lives right next to my mom, and after the two of them suffered an unexplained accident while taking down holiday decorations, both Ryan and I were forced to become the only thirtysomething residents of Sunny Creek Village Independent Senior Living Community.

Temporarily moving in might seem like overkill for a fractured tailbone and a severely pulled groin muscle, but believe me, when your mom is as wild as mine and your dad is as cantankerous as Ryan’s, they need supervision to ensure they stick to doctor’s orders.

Constantly thrown together by the antics of our crazy parents and the tough-as-nails community enforcer, Betty Matthews, Ryan and I formed an alliance for the sole purpose of survival.

But I never expected to be so interested in finding out what he was hiding beneath his grumpy, serious demeanor. More than that, I never dreamed what I found would be the kind of man women sell their souls to the devil for.

Unfortunately, our little one-hit wonder on the airwaves has more to say before it comes to an end.

Although, finishing the outro to this song is a real doozy…

Tell me…what lyric rhymes with Oops, I’ve fallen for my future stepbrother?


Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3tv6IjN
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/OopsIveFallen

Add Oops, I’ve Fallen to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/30S3B9k


Excerpt

RYAN

         Incoming Call Dad.

      I’m tempted not to answer—very tempted, actually—but I do anyway. There’s a chance he needs me, given the circumstances of my visit in the first place, and I don’t want to leave him hanging.

      “Hey, Dad.”

      “Where are you?”

      “Baggage claim.”

      “Baggage claim where?”

      “Tampa.”

      “What the hell, Ryan?” he bellows, making me close my eyes against the speech I know is coming. “I told you I’m good. You didn’t need to come here.”

      “Yeah, well, your nurse said otherwise.”

      “My nurse?” he questions. “Who? That old woman Jessica?”

      “Old woman?” I retort on a laugh. “She was younger than you, Dad. By about twenty years.”

      I had the pleasure of speaking to my dad’s nurse Jessica on FaceTime last night when I got a call that he had taken some sort of strange fall and had been escorted to the hospital in an ambulance.

      “Whatever. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

      “Actually, she does,” I correct. “And so does your doctor, who also recommended that I come down and help you out while you’re recovering.”

      “Recovering.” He scoffs. “You’d think I had a heart attack or some shit. I pulled a muscle in my damn balls.”

      I shut my eyes briefly. “Groin muscle, Dad. You pulled your groin muscle.”

      “Same difference.”

      I want to explain to him there’s a big difference, but in the name of not driving myself insane—or drawing the attention of everyone around me—I bite my tongue.

      “Go home.”

      “Too late for that. I’m already here,” I answer on a chuckle and step up to the carousel to snag my black duffel from it.

      He groans. “You’re my least favorite kid sometimes.”

      I shake my head. “I’m your only kid, Dad.”

      “Yeah, and I like you the least right now.”

      I snort. Sal Miller is a seriously complex mix of blunt honesty, overwhelming affection, and way too much testosterone for a seventy-five-year-old man. The good news is that when he sounds like he’s being an asshole, I still know that behind all the flashy insults, he loves me. “Hey, Dad?”

      “What?”

      “I’ll see you soon,” I say and hang up the phone before he can respond.

      I scrub a hand down my face and take a deep breath. It’s moments like this that make me realize how much shit my mom had to put up with when she was still alive.

         Mom, seriously, you were a saint.

      With my duffel over my shoulder and my small carry-on rolling behind me, I walk out of the baggage claim area and toward the taxi line.

      Normally, I’d rent a car, but since I had to book this flight so last minute and there’s apparently some kind of end-of-summer festival going on in downtown Tampa, there were no rentals available.

      Hopefully, though, I’ll be able to arrange something tomorrow. Or else, I’ll have to cruise around in my dad’s Porsche while I’m here.

      Not such a terrible fate for me, personally, but as far as taking him places with an injury to his damn groin muscle, I’m thinking his late-life-crisis Porsche won’t be ideal.

      Once I make my way through the automatic doors, I spot the taxi line and count only three people in front of me. Not too bad.

      While I stand in line, I pull my phone back out of my pocket and start scrolling through work emails. In just the short flight from New York to Tampa—two and a half hours, tops—my inbox has managed to accumulate over forty emails. Since the small regional plane didn’t offer Wi-Fi, I had to settle for working on my end-of-quarter reports.

      On a sigh, I run my hand through my dark-brown hair and begin the task of sifting through what’s priority and what’s not.

      Five emails done and the taxi line gets smaller by one person.

      Another ten emails and the line gets shorter again.

      By the time I reach the front, I slide my phone into my pocket and wait patiently as I spot a black taxi heading my way. The driver pulls the cab to a stop right in front of me, but just as I lift my duffel up and over my shoulder to carry it to the trunk, a rush of bright red careens past me.

      “Oh, thank you so much!” a female voice calls toward the male driver who has just gotten out of the driver’s side to assist with bags.

      But he shouldn’t be helping with her bags.

      He should be helping with my bags.

         What the fuck?

      “Uh, excuse me?” I question loud enough to catch her attention.

      She looks up from her spot at the trunk. Her long, wavy red hair fans down her shoulders, and a few rogue curls hang over her face. Bright-blue eyes meet mine, and I can’t stop my brain from thinking, Well, goddamn.

      Smooth skin, striking features, and a few freckles dotting her nose, she’s…stunning. The kind of woman that urges a double and triple take. Between her gorgeous face and the way her long legs look beneath her cutoff jean shorts, this woman is like the girl next door, but with secrets.

      Dirty fucking secrets.

      “Were you talking to me?” she questions, tilting her head to the side when I don’t answer right away.

         Shit. Get it together.

      Those blue eyes of hers are still locked with mine, searching them in confusion.

      “Uh…yeah…actually,” I say, clearing my throat. I glance between the taxi and the taxi line. “You’re kind of stealing my taxi.”

      “I am?”

      I smirk. “Yeah.”

      “Did you call him yourself?”

      My head jerks back in surprise. “Well, no, but—”

      “So, you don’t know this driver?” she questions, looking between the driver and me. “Do you know him—” she pauses briefly, then asks “—what’s your name, sir?”

      “Bob.”

      She smiles at him. “Bob, do you know this man?”

      “No.” The driver shakes his head.

      “I didn’t call him,” I explain on a sigh. “But I followed the rules and waited in this taxi line like everyone else.”

      “You follow the rules a lot?” she asks, and I don’t know what to make of her question.

      It sounds dirty and sexy yet sarcastic and accusatory at the same time.

      “Don’t most people?”

      “I don’t.” She winks. “But you keep doing you, Barney Fife. The town of Mayberry needs you.”

         Okay, she definitely just passive-aggressively called me a square.

      “So, you’re just going to steal my taxi, then?” I question and glance over my shoulder to note the other people waiting in line like myself, but I quickly realize I’m the only one standing here. It doesn’t matter, though. My point is still valid.

      “Well, I guess that depends.”

      “On what?”

      “Are you going to fight me for it?”

         Excuse me?

         “Am I going to fight you for the taxi?”

      She nods.

      “Um, no,” I answer on a laugh. What a weird fucking question. “I don’t make a huge habit of fighting women.”

      “Okay then, I guess the answer to your question is yes, then.” She nods. Winks. Taps her hand on the top of the taxi. “Let’s hit it, Bob.”

      Bob looks between me and the redhead, who is now getting into of the back seat of his taxi. But eventually, he just shrugs and hops back into the driver’s seat.

      Then they’re off. Just like that.

      And I don’t miss the way the mysterious, taxi-stealing redhead turns around in her seat to wave to me as they go or the fact that I’m feeling a lot less attuned to how pretty she is.

      Her manners are apparently very, very ugly.

          What in the hell just happened?        


About Max Monroe


A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.

Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.

Connect with Max Monroe
BookBub: http://bit.ly/3bJFJJh
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ReoxkK
Facebook: http://bit.ly/31XxggS
Instagram: http://bit.ly/39wuCkW
Stay up to date with Max Monroe by joining their mailing list today: http://bit.ly/2HzGmau
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/


RELEASE BLITZ – What We Deserve (Wishbone Tattoos #1) by Lizzie Stanley

Title: What We Deserve
Series: Wishbone Tattoos #1
Author: Lizzie Stanley
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 31, 2021
BLURB
I’m used to being alone, until she changed everything…
When my ex-wife left, she said the cruelest words she could think of, and I took them to heart.
Now I work at my loveable bastard cousin’s tattoo parlor and keep most people at arm’s length. I have the occasional one night stand to take the edge off, but there can never be anything more than that for me.
I don’t let myself think about how lonely I am. At least I’m not ruining anyone’s life, right?
Then Emily walks into Wishbone Tattoos, asking about the receptionist job. And this shy, smiling, kind-hearted woman is everything I’ve ever wanted.
I can’t help falling for her. But I don’t want to be selfish, or torture myself with small tastes of a life that can never be mine.
But there’s something about Emily I don’t know. Something that will make her the exception to my rule…
She’s battle scarred herself, and running from a dark past which snaps at her heels, but I’m not going to let anyone hurt her ever again, I swear to god.
And maybe, if we’re lucky and we both want it hard enough, the two of us will finally get what we deserve.

PURCHASE LINKS
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Free in Kindle Unlimited

AUTHOR BIO

Lizzie Stanley realised the other day how long it had been since she graduated from university, and resolved never to think about it again. She has a demanding but satisfying day job, and still manages to find pockets of time here and there to write. She lives in the UK with her Very Sexy Husband and her Doc Martens collection, and enjoys binge reading, watching true crime documentaries on Netflix, playing Dungeons and Dragons, singing the music of the eighties very badly in the shower, and tormenting her friends with puns.
Lizzie loves to hear from her readers, so if you’d like to make her day by dropping her a line, her email address is lizziestanleyauthor@gmail.com. You can also hit her up on Instagram: @lizziestanleyauthor. She is still getting the hang of Twitter, bear with her. Please also feel free to join her Facebook group, Lizzie Stanley’s Wishbone Readers, where she will post info on the upcoming titles in the series. And photos of hot guys.
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