Category Archives: From the Author

BLOG TOUR ~ Hungry by Kenya Wright

  Title: Hungry
By: Kenya Wright

Publication Date: December 15, 2017
Genre: Inspirational Poetry

 

A provocative meditation on poverty, art, sex, and God. 

Hungry is a collection of poetry and prose about a struggling writer’s battle with poverty and motherhood, her exploration of lust in this digital dating age, and her quest to end soul starvation.

Dear Reader

This is my journey through words when the screams and fighting wasn’t enough

I wrote this when he broke my heart

I wrote this when I couldn’t pay my bills

I wrote this high as hell

I wrote this when we had no place to sleep and nothing to eat

I wrote this when I couldn’t say the words out loud

I wrote this for you to learn from my mistakes and make new ones

And so this journal these entries these moments and poems should be free because I can’t sell you my heart

That’s what you’re getting when you read this book

But this book is also about the grind

The struggle

There’s no skating in this book

There’s no quick win in this book

Just a sista ready to die for words

Ready to hurt

Ready to starve

Ready to cry

Ready to sacrifice it all

Ready to go broke

Go hungry


 

 

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Kenya Wright wrote her first novel during her third year at UM Law school. She dropped out a month after the release and never looked back.

Words are power, and Kenya wants to be the greatest wizard that ever lived.

It’s an audacity to inspire and teach the healing of love through arousal.

It’s this crazy idea that love can not only help a reader escape, but the story can also teach the person about being human, while making them laugh, cry, and hot for more sex.

 

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BEYOND SERIES REBRANDED COVER REVEAL ~ Beyond Ecstasy (Beyond #8) by Kit Rocha

    

Beyond Rebrand Blog Reveal

Beyond Ecstasy
by Kit Rocha

 

 

BREE’S COVER NOTES

I always thought Beyond Ecstasy would be one of the easiest covers to design, but this one took me the longest. Many of our heroines protect themselves by wearing masks, but it’s usually one mask, a distinct mask. Their mask.  Jeni, on the other hand, is like a master of disguise. She dons personas for the stage and discards them just as easily.

She’s comfortable in a sun dress on Hawk’s family’s farm—which was the first concept I tried. Farm equipment didn’t look sexy in the background, it turned out! But she’s also comfortable glammed up and lounging in fabulously lavish luxury. And since she and Hawk had a very intimate moment in such surroundings, that’s where I finally decided to place her. Sexy, sensual, glamorous…but with just a hint of vulnerability. Because her mask is about to come off.


BLURB

The O’Kanes have a reputation for working hard and playing harder—except for Hawk. He joined the gang with one goal: to ensure his family’s survival through the impending war with Eden. It’s been years since he had the luxury of wanting anything for himself. Now, he wants Jeni. From the first moment he saw her, he’s been obsessed with making her his. Not for a night—forever.

Jeni’s been lusting after the former smuggler for months, but he keeps shutting her down. She’s almost given up on getting him in her bed when he offers her the last thing she ever expected—a collar. Accepting it means belonging to him, body and soul. It’s a reckless gamble, but Jeni can’t resist the chance to slip under Hawk’s armor.

The only thing more shocking than the dark, dangerous pleasure they discover is how right it feels. But falling in love is even more reckless when forever is far from guaranteed. Because they aren’t just at war, they’re out of time—and every breath could be their last.


BUY LINKS

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EXCERPT:

Chapter One

Hawk couldn’t decide which would drive him crazy first—the shadows or the light.

The shadows, that was the easy answer. The sectors had been dark for a month now, driven back to the earliest days after the Flares. Back home in Six, things wouldn’t be so bad. The farms had always survived off wind and solar energy, and as powerful as Eden was, they couldn’t still the air or blot out the sun. But sectors like Four relied on whatever electricity they could borrow, beg, or steal from Eden’s grid. Blackouts had always been an infrequent annoyance.

Now they were a constant reality—and Sector Four was unraveling under the strain.

That was why Hawk was out for his fourth night in a row, patrolling the market square with Jasper. He could feel people watching them from behind closed doors and windows, from hidden alleys and sheltering walls. Watching and waiting. Calculating their chances of getting away with whatever trouble they’d been planning to start. Out of fear, or desperation, or just to relieve the unrelenting tension.

But all those stares couldn’t raise the hair on the back of his neck like glancing over his shoulder toward the city.

The darkness was awful, but the light posed the real danger. Hell, it was going to make them all crazy. Eden’s damn glowing walls, sparking with all the power they’d stolen from the sectors. Precious electricity twisted into a weapon and a warning and brazen, bragging psychological warfare.

During the day, you could almost ignore it. But when the sun dipped below the western hills, all anyone could see was Eden’s walls, lighting up the night in a silent reminder that everything had changed.

“Nothing.” Jas growled, a low noise in the back of his throat. “I hate the waiting.”

I hate the waiting. Words that summed up life in the sectors now, on every fucking level. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“The intel is good.” Jasper pulled a cigarette from his pocket, but he didn’t light it. “Two shops and someone’s house have been hit on this block in the last week.”

The intel might be good, but crime wasn’t simple anymore. Some people were stealing out of greed and need, but more and more had been starting shit just to start it. The wave of petty crime had dropped after the O’Kanes bumped up fight night to twice a week—an approved outlet for violence with a chance to make some money was math even an idiot could do—but the feeling was back, seething from the shadows, growing day by day.

If something didn’t happen soon, every damn night would have to be fight night.

Jas rubbed the spot between his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Hawk nodded in agreement and fell into step next to Jas as he turned toward the city. Even this far away, an ache was already forming behind his eyes. He knew how many blocks they could walk before the ache blossomed into pain, and how many more before nausea joined the party.

No one could live this close to the wall anymore. Some of the shopkeepers who’d kept homes above their shops had been driven back after the first two weeks. A few stubbornly stayed—pale and drawn and increasingly sick from the constant exposure.

Hawk couldn’t understand how. When they cleared the last row of buildings, he could feel the damn thing in his bones, thrumming, itching, humming. It took all his self-control not to turn the fuck around and run for it.

But he couldn’t. Not until he and Jas had completed their most grisly task of the night.

The open space closest to the curving walls was strewn with abandoned carts and trash no one had bothered to pick up. No shadows lurked here—just eerie, unnatural illumination that made Hawk’s eyeballs itch and washed everything out into silver and blue.

Especially the dark form standing at the wall, his hands wrapped around a line of wire.

“Fuck,” Jasper muttered. “Motherfucker.”

Suicide-by-Eden. The newest threat facing the sectors, and the most hopeless.

Jas was already pushing through the carts, looking for something they could use to knock the body loose. They’d pry this poor bastard off the wall the way they’d done the ones before, but they couldn’t hide what was happening. The whispers would spread, and tomorrow would be a little worse than today.

People were giving up. Old-timers who’d lived through the first terrible years after the Flares, who couldn’t face doing it again. Their children, who’d grown up with the horror stories, with nightmares that only intensified in the telling.

The worst were the kids. Teenagers, really—adults by the rules that guided the sectors but still fucking children in the way that mattered. Too young to understand mortality and too fucking scared to fight, because they’d already spent all of their short lives fighting. If they had to drag another kid off the wall—

Jas came back with a board, and Hawk reached for it. “I’ll do it.”

The man hesitated only for a moment before handing over the plank of wood. “Careful, man.”

Hawk didn’t relish getting closer, but Jas couldn’t afford to take the risk at all. Too much rested on his shoulders—and Hawk sure as fuck wasn’t going back to the compound to face Noelle after letting her boyfriend fry himself. “I got it.”

He approached carefully, setting each foot down firmly to eliminate any chance of tripping. By the time he was within swinging distance, his teeth were vibrating. The low buzz filled his ears, and maybe that was a blessing.

There was nothing pretty about trying to knock a corpse off the wires that had electrocuted him.

The first swing didn’t budge the man. And it was a man—or had been. His clothes were as singed as his skin, burned black by the heat generated by the high current coursing through him. The sickly scent of roasted flesh filled Hawk’s nostrils, and he held his breath as he swung again. Harder.

This time, the blow managed to dislodge the dead man’s grip on the wires, and he tumbled to the cracked pavement in a heap.

Jasper closed his eyes with a low, pained noise, then dropped to a crouch beside the prone body. “Burial detail?” he asked hoarsely. “Who’s on it tonight?”

“Flash and the new kid. Tank.” Hawk joined him. “Do you recognize him?”

“No.” Jas looked up. “Seems like that would make it easier, doesn’t it?”

Nothing could make this easy. This moment—the horror of it, the fucking useless waste of it—it would always hurt. And it should.

But at least they didn’t have to go back to the compound and break the news to the dead guy’s friends. Not like last week, when they’d trudged home to face Tatiana. The woman they’d peeled off the wall that night had brought Tatiana lunch from her food cart every day for damn near five years.

Hawk might still end the evening drunk, but he wouldn’t be covered in someone else’s tears this time. Practically a banner fucking night—his most morbid thought yet. “I hope it never gets easy. I don’t want to think about what that would mean.”

“Truth.” Jas turned his head away from the wisps of smoke rising from the corpse and rose. “I worry about the effect this has on people.”

Hawk had spent enough time with Jas now to read between the lines. The man would never betray a weakness in the king and queen of Sector Four, but shit. You’d have to be a monster not to feel it, and while Dallas and Lex’s reputations could be plenty monstrous, Hawk knew they were both very, very human.

And, friend or not, Jas had to break this news to them every damn time.

There was nothing Hawk could say to make it better. No way to fix it. All he could do was toss the board aside and grab a ragged tarp from one of the carts to toss over the body. “I’ll find Tank and Flash. Get it taken care of.”

“No, I’ll handle it.” Jas punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve been working hard. Have some fun tonight.”

Hawk huffed. “Fucking hypocrite.”

“Hey, it’s my load to bear, not yours.”

Easy words, but they were the reason Hawk had come to this sector. The reason he’d joined the O’Kanes, and the reason he had come to embrace them. For Jas, they weren’t just words. He meant them. The O’Kanes didn’t just believe in the pleasure that came with power. They believed in the responsibility, too.

For that, Hawk would follow them into hell. Maybe literally.

He squeezed Jas’s shoulder. “You sure? I got nowhere to be.” No one waiting for him, either.

“Hell, yeah.” Jasper jerked his head in the direction of the O’Kane compound. “Go. Crack open a bottle. We’re all gonna need it tonight.”

Hawk should have protested again, but an order was an order, and his churning gut and aching head were motivation enough. Dignity kept him out of a flat run, but he still made it through the market in record time, not slowing down until he reached the first row of tall apartment buildings and their reassuring shadows.

The darkness definitely wasn’t the enemy.

Neither was the silence. Noises teased at the edge of his senses—a slammed door, the scuffle of footsteps. Voices carried on the wind, too far away to reach him as more than a whisper. Hawk kept his hand close to his gun and pretended he wasn’t half-hoping someone would see a guy on his own as a tempting target.

It was two more nights until he’d have a chance at climbing into the cage. Two more nights of twisted up tension and anger and frustration with no damn outlet, because the only outlet he wanted—

No. No, he wouldn’t think of her like this, not while he smelled of death and dreamt of violence. He needed to purge the darkness first.

He needed a fucking drink.

That was what he told himself, anyway, when he swung right and headed for the entrance to the Broken Circle instead of the back gate that led to the living quarters.

Zan was guarding the door. He took one look at Hawk and cursed viciously. “Another one?”

So much for his poker face. “Yeah. Jas didn’t recognize him, but…”

Zan’s scowl deepened, then disappeared behind his hands as he scrubbed them over his face. “You headed inside?”

“I need a drink. Has it been crazy?”

“Different kind than usual.” Zan’s glower returned, full force. “Not real busy, but we’re having to keep four on the floor so the little shits’ll stay in line.”

Maybe he’d get his fight after all. Hawk slapped Zan on the shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”

“Swing by the kitchen,” Zan advised as he pushed open the door.

The music washed over Hawk as he stepped inside, the throbbing of the bass vibrating in his bones in different way than the electric pain of the wall. It dragged his gaze to the stage even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t look—

He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved to see Trix up there, midway through her most popular act. Leather and steel and naked challenge—her movements were the O’Kane reputation distilled into a dance as potent as their whiskey.

The crowd was going wild. Cheering and hollering, leaning forward in anticipation that built with every teasing twist of her body. Hawk hesitated—not watching her, but the room itself. Bouncers bracketed the stage, a burly reminder not to get any ideas about appreciating the show up-close and personal.

Trix would be fine. If Hawk had had any doubts, he would have stayed. Not just because he owed it to Finn to look after his woman, but out of fondness for Trix herself.

Most of the time, he coped with the O’Kane women by treating them the way he would his sisters. With Trix, that came easy. She’d been to his home, had met his family. She was bound to Hawk’s oldest friend among the O’Kanes, the first one he’d called brother and meant it.

Affection would have prompted him to stay if she needed protection. And affection was the reason he booked it to the kitchen. This night was fucked up enough without watching a sister take her clothes off.

The kitchen was bright compared to the front room, light gleaming off steel counters and appliances. Somewhere beneath their feet, the finest collection of generators in the sectors were humming away, providing an oasis from the silent darkness of the rest of the sectors. Hawk suspected they could cancel the shows altogether and people would still show up, as much for the light and the sound as the liquor.

But the kitchen was quieter, the cheers and music muffled. Rachel sat on a stool at one high counter, a sharp knife in one hand and half a lemon in the other. “Hawk.” She gestured to him. “Have a seat.”

“Hey, Rachel.” He slid onto the stool next to her and eyed the lemon. She was only a few months pregnant, barely even showing yet, but the baby was definitely making its presence felt. “Queasy again?”

“Mmm.” She dropped another slice of lemon into the glass of water in front of her and lifted it. “This is the only thing that helps right now.”

No wonder Zan had sent him to the kitchen. Growing up on the farms in Six meant spending your life surrounded by women in various stages of pregnancy. But in a sector like Four, pregnant women were mysterious, dangerous creatures who suffered from inexplicable symptoms that sent the men—and women—around them into a panic.

Hawk honestly didn’t know how Amira had gotten through it without stabbing them all.

He edged the cutting board away from Rachel and picked up the knife. “You use ginger in your beer, don’t you?”

“In some of them. Why?”

“You should try that.” He gestured to the glass with the knife. “You can brew it into a tea. It helped my stepmothers and sisters.”

Rachel smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Hawk.”

Poor girl. Hawk kissed the top of her head. “I’ll show Cruz how to make it when he gets back in.”

“I think he’d like that.” She lifted her head. “Bad night?”

“Not the worst. Not the best, either.” He offered her a crooked smile. “We hiding any of the good stuff back here?”

She reached under the cabinet nearest her and pulled out a bottle half-full of rich, amber liquor. “Not the best,” she said, turning his words around on him. “But not the worst, either.”

“Perfect.” He grabbed a glass and let her pour out a triple, then raised it to her in silent salute. She clinked her glass of water against his, and they both took a sip. “Shit, not the best is still better than we had on the farm.”

“One of the perks of being an O’Kane.”

There were many, and only one of them had factored into Hawk’s determination to join. He’d been on a mission, with Dallas O’Kane square in his sights. Dallas hadn’t even been the general of a newly formed rebellion back then, just a sector leader with a barbaric reputation that clashed with his history of being calculated, clever, and dangerous as fuck.

Hawk had recognized power. It took intelligence and forethought to cultivate an image that made the O’Kanes’ enemies consistently underestimate them, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. The drinking and fucking and partying were perks, but they were also part of the act—painting themselves as sinners fighting just hard enough to indulge their lusts in luxury.

Rachel was watching him. “Everyone thinks this is what it’s about—all the booze you can drink, and all the hell you can raise. That, or the sex. But there’s something to be said for comfort, you know? For not having to be alone with your thoughts after a hard day.”

He swirled the liquor around his glass and tried to find the words. That was what she wanted—for him to unburden himself, to fall into the easy rhythm of chatter and sharing that seemed to come naturally to everyone else.

He could talk about ginger tea. About his sisters’ new farm, or cars, or the business of keeping the sector running. Facts and knowledge, clean and simple. Small talk. But Rachel wanted more.

What else was he supposed to do? Tell a pregnant woman about the corpse he’d just pried off the walls, walls that surrounded a city that might attack them at any second? Tell her about the smell of it, so stark and pungent that even the lemon and whiskey couldn’t overcome it?

Tell her about the fear in their guts every time they faced another suicide, wondering if this time they’d turn the body over and find what was left of a familiar face?

He snorted and took another sip. “Some thoughts are too damn bleak to share.”

“And some are too bleak to keep to yourself.” The lights overhead flickered, and her fingers tightened on her glass. “We’re in a stressful spot here, Hawk. It’s bad enough even if you do let yourself deal with it. But if you lock it away…”

“I know.” He rubbed the edge of his glass. “It’s dark out there, Rachel. And we all thought we were good at that, living in the dark. But this isn’t the same.”

She brushed his hand, a light touch that lasted for only a moment. “Just remember that you don’t have to be alone, okay?”

“I’m not alone.” The truth wrapped around a lie, because there were so many ways to be lonely, and Rachel could say it wasn’t about booze and sex, but it wasn’t that simple. Not when you were an O’Kane.

Rachel sighed. “You don’t do subtle, do you, Hawk?”

No, he really didn’t. Especially not the way these O’Kane women did, issuing invitations and propositions with their smiles and their soft touches—not that he thought Rachel was coming on to him. But there’d been another poured drink, another soft touch—

Don’t think about her. Not now.

Because telling yourself not to think about someone worked really damn well. Hawk finished his drink, reached for the bottle, and tried to prove Rachel wrong. “Jeni’s not dancing tonight?”

Surprise and a little rueful amusement flashed in Rachel’s eyes. “She’s upstairs, working on something new.”

Hawk turned the knowledge over as he splashed more liquor into his glass. Jeni, upstairs. Alone, maybe, working on a new dance. Sweat glistening on her skin, her breath coming short and fast, her body loose and supple.

Practice meant Jeni. Not the wigs and costumes and makeup that turned her into any of a dozen characters she used to work the stage or the bar, but the woman he glimpsed in quiet moments.

Beautiful. Fearless. Sad.

He could go upstairs. Bring the bottle with him, smile at her. He knew shit-all about romance and women, but he knew know how good fucking could be. Fast and hot enough to burn through all the tension tying him up, better than a thousand fight nights.

And then it would be over. Jeni would leave, because that was how the O’Kanes worked. Friendly. Casual. Easy.

Until someone else smiled at Jeni at the next party, and Hawk was overwhelmed by the unacceptable urge to punch their damn teeth in.

O’Kanes definitely didn’t do jealousy.

Rachel was still watching him, her rueful amusement melting into a smile. So he headed her off. “Don’t get any ideas. I got a couple dozen sisters, Rachel. I know that look.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she denied. “I was just saying that a little company never hurts. And,” she added, talking over his half-hearted protest, “that it doesn’t have to be about sex. There are hundreds of ways to reach out to someone, and that’s just truth.”

“I know,” he grumbled. And because he did have a couple dozen sisters, he knew he had to do one thing—change the damn subject. “That’s why I’m in here, drinking with you.”

Her smile turned into a grin, and she lifted her glass of water again. “To friends.”

“To friends,” he echoed, knocking their glasses together. Tonight, he would avoid Jeni and track down Cruz instead. Every discomfort Rachel suffered put the poor bastard on high alert, and Hawk could sympathize with his feeling of helplessness.

Brewing ginger tea might not seem like the best use of an elite soldier’s time, but feeling like he’d helped would soothe Cruz, which would soothe Rachel and Ace. Not a bad exchange for a little cup of tea.

And maybe with Ace in a good mood, Hawk could ask him a few questions. Casual. Easy. Just two O’Kanes, making small talk about life and fucking and all the ways they intersected in Sector Four.

If he could just figure out the right damn questions, someone might give him the answers that ended with Jeni in his bed for more than one night.


(Note: if you like your books to match and are worried, don’t be!
You’ll still be able to get the old covers in print at online retailers.)



Follow this link to KR’s website where you can view all of the new covers revealed so far…



Right now, book #1 in the series is free!!

 

All Noelle Cunningham has ever wanted was a life beyond–beyond her stifling role as a prim and proper councilman’s daughter, and beyond the walls of the patriarchal city of Eden, the only remnants of safety in a world destroyed by solar storms decades earlier. But when she’s banished for violating the prohibition against immorality, she’s unprepared for the lawless world outside the city’s walls.

The sectors surrounding Eden house those abandoned to fend for themselves–men like Jasper McCray, bootlegger and cage fighter. Jas clawed his way up from nothing to stand at the right hand of Sector Four’s ruthless leader, and he’ll defend the O’Kane gang with his life. But fighting hasn’t prepared him for dealing with a sheltered City princess who falls at his feet.

Her innocence is undeniable, but so is her intense sexual curiosity. Soon they’re exploring every dark fantasy she’s ever been ashamed to have. But if Noelle wants to claim her place with the O’Kanes and at Jas’s side, she’ll have to find the courage to embrace something even more terrifying than her own desires.

Her own power.


Get the Ebook

 

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Below you can find the absolute in-chronological-order reading order for all of the books, novellas and stories set in and around Eden and the Sectors. The KR gals do their best to make it so you can read the novels in order without missing anything if you skip the novellas and stories, but for those of you who like to read it all, in order…here you go!

Beyond Shame (novel)

Beyond Control (novel)

Beyond Denial (outtake)

Beyond Pain (novel)

Beyond Temptation (novella)

Beyond Jealousy (novel)

Beyond Solitude (novella)

Beyond Addiction (novel)

Beyond Possession (novella)

Beyond Innocence (novel)

Closed Doors (short story)

Blank Canvas (short story)

Beyond Ruin (novel)

Beyond Ecstasy (novel)

Beyond Surrender (novel)

Creative Incentives (short story)

Ashwin (novel)

Beyond Doubt (novella)

Deacon (novel)

Cravings (short story)

Beyond Forever (novella)



ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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 Kit Rocha is the pseudonym for co-writing team Donna Herren and Bree Bridges. After penning dozens of paranormal novels,
novellas and stories as Moira Rogers, they branched out into gritty, sexy dystopian romance.


The series has appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, and was honored with a 2013 RT Reviewer’s Choice award.


Find out more at their website, or sign up to be notified of their next release.


AUTHOR LINKS:

Website (Kit Rocha):
Website (Moira Rogers):
Facebook:
Facebook Group:


Twitter (Announcements):

Twitter (Bree):
Twitter (Donna):

Merchandise


 

SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ The Last Wolf (The Legend of All Wolves #1) by Maria Vale

 

Title: The Last Wolf
Series: The Legend of All Wolves #1
Author: Maria Vale

Pub Date: February 6, 2018
ISBN: 9781492661870

For three days out of thirty, when the moon is full and her law is iron, the Great North Pack must be wild.


If she returns to her Pack, the stranger will die.

But if she stays…

Silver Nilsdottir is at the bottom of her Pack’s social order, with little chance for a decent mate and a better life. Until the day a stranger stumbles into their territory, wounded and beaten, and Silver decides to risk everything on Tiberius Leveraux. But Tiberius isn’t all he seems, and in the fragile balance of the Pack and wild, he may tip the destiny of all wolves…

 

Buy Links:

Amazon | Books-A-Million | Barnes & Noble | Chapters | iBooks | Indiebound


LETTER TO THE READER

Dear (Potential) Reader,

There is so much vying for your attention, I’m grateful you’ve read even this far.

I know I’m asking a lot from you.

I’m asking you to take time with a new writer when there are so many great ones already out there.

I’m asking you to take a chance on a new direction in a well-loved genre, in which the wolf is not a vicious beast to be subjugated and feared, but rather the human form is a useful tool for protecting the wilder self.

In this reworking, werewolves fall into two categories: Pack, who must be wolves for three days out of every thirty—self-aware wolves, but not magic, any bullet can kill them. And Shifters, who don’t have to change and so remain human, the apex predator, rather than wolf, the maligned and despised outsider.

Still like any romance, its foundation is in the growing love between two characters: the worldly half-Shifter Tiberius who hates the wolf inside him as bestial and monstrous. And the unworldly Silver, who is fully Pack and believes her wild self to be sacred.

Silver is a runt with a displaced hip when she is a wolf and in a society that determines position by fighting wild, this means she is at the bottom of the hierarchy—the last wolf.  Tiberius, however, discovers real strength in her perseverance and fierceness. For her part, Silver recognizes something about him: that by denying his wild, Tiberius has sown the roots of despair.

But this is not only a love story between two people, it’s also a love story about the Great North Pack, because despite our fascination with lone wolves, it is the pack that really defines this most social of all animals.

I imagined the Great North as something beyond family or community, something tight-knit and loving and brave and frightened. And intensely vulnerable. I imagined, like most embattled societies, the pack would be very conservative, with a traditional culture, a history, a language that was part of its identity. I chose to base that culture loosely (very loosely) on the world of 9th century England, partly because I love the sound of the language of Beowulf. To me, it is gruff and beautiful and haunting, like a wolf’s howl. But also because 9th century England was a place of great insecurity. One never knew when Northmen might show up and destroy everything you loved.

It was the Great North’s first Alpha, Ælfrida, who forced her pack to change. With humans decimating the forests of England, she dragged her pack from the Old World to the vast forests of northern New York, she re-wrote laws in order to allow new wolves to join their bloodlines, she forced her wolves to leave their isolated territories, so that they could learn human ways and protect the Pack using human law.

What results is a society that is both human and decidedly not, both harsh and loving, severe and tender.  The way I imagined wolves fighting daily for their lives would be.

I have loved every minute of researching and writing these books. I can only hope that you will enjoy reading them.

Stay wild,

Maria



EXCERPT

The day of the first waxing crescent of fall is when all of the wolves who live on the Homelands traditionally run the perimeter and make sure that our land is properly marked before the ground freezes and damaged posts become hard to replace.

The entire Pack is wild. Barking and wagging tails, they lick each other and jump around each other, their ferocious jaws open and gentle. They chase mice through windrows, their hind legs scratching leaves into a brightly colored explosion high in the air, so that the pups can twist and turn and catch them in snapping teeth as they spiral down.

Not me. I have to pull on heavy muck boots over thick socks with jeans shoved inside. And I won’t mark our territory the way wolves are supposed to. I will mark it on an iPhone 6 Plus, crammed into the big pocket of a thick orange vest. All because Ti refuses to phase and John doesn’t like it.

“He tells himself he’s human,” John says. “But if he lies to himself, what makes you think he’s not going to lie to us?”

So because I am Ti’s schildere, I have to stay in skin too. Keep an eye on him.

“I mean, what were you thinking?” I ask as Ti fits the Outlast cap over his clipped skull. “When you came to a bunch of wolves asking for protection. That you’d just keep on being a human? Was that your grand plan?”

“I didn’t have a grand plan. What I had was a hole in my stomach, a vague set of directions to my mother’s pack, and a need to survive. I changed long enough to fight; I never thought you’d be asking me to give up my humanity.”

“No one’s asking you to give up your humanity, but if you refuse to admit what you are, it is going to rise up and bite you in the ass.”

“Well, how about you?”

Me? I love changing. I—”

“I know you love changing. You do it all the time. The second Sten doesn’t need your thumbs, you evaporate, and there’s nothing left but clothes hanging from a branch. I may be a crappy wolf. But you… You’re a crappy human.”

I cringe, because he’s right. I’ve never been happy in skin, but then those stupid fire fairies burrowed into my body all those days ago, and that spark has caught fire and burns so fierce that now when I walk beside him and hear his quiet, low voice or look into those gold-flecked black eyes, my tendons strain and my muscles coil and my lungs open up and my blood beats hot and fast. The only way I know how to deal with need is to run hard and far until I collapse, unable to feel anything at all.

A brindle pup barks worriedly at my feet. All of the other wolves have disappeared, fading like a whisper in the woods.

“I know, Leelee. We’re coming.”

“She’s going with us?” Ti asks.

“We’re supposed to take her along. Help her learn the farther reaches of the Homelands.” Leelee scampers on ahead, leaping awkwardly over a huge downed log and sliding down the other side, her fur covered in the sooty brown decay.

Ti clears it in one stride and stands close, not helping me exactly, but I know if I falter, his big shoulder is there for me to grab on to. I make it by myself, but I appreciate his silent gesture.

Leelee watches, her head cocked to the side, as I take a running jump over one of the numerous small, mucky streams that crisscross our land. I slip down the other side, my foot sinking into a soft bruise in the moss. She yips and worries, waiting for me to pull my boot out with a dull sucking sound.

I lift her up and give her an open-jawed kiss on her ear, but she sees a squirrel and won’t stop squirming until I set her down.

“No farther than the Stones, Leelee.”

When we finally catch up, she’s clambering over the variously sized rocks that form rough circles around the ancient central stones. Over the years, the circle has encroached farther and farther into the forest, surrounding the trees.

Leelee marks one of the stones.

“What is this?” Ti asks.

“It’s, um…the Gemyndstow? The memory place? But we just call it the Stones.”

“Like a graveyard?”

“Graveyards are for bodies, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“So, no. Coyotes eat our dead. That’s why we call them wulfbyrgenna. Wolf tombs. The stones are only for wolf names and the date of their last hunt so that we can remember.”

When Ti crouches down and looks at one near the front, Leelee runs up to him and looks too, trying to figure out why it is so interesting.

As soon as he stands, she marks that one too.

An ill-advised squirrel runs across the outer rim of the Stones, and Leelee turns quickly to run after it, the wind tickling her fur and the scent in her nose. I know that feeling of taking it all in—moldering pine needles, owl pellets, borer beetle, tree sap, two-year-old porcupine den, sassafras bush—until the scent of prey hits you right in the back of the throat and everything tenses and you chase, even if your tummy’s little and full and all you really want is for the thing, whatever it is, to escape so you don’t have to eat it, but still you can’t help but hunt.

She peels off after her squirrel, looking behind to make sure we’re watching.

The squirrel chitters at her from the safety of a maple. Ti stares, his hands fisted by his sides, as Leelee scampers and bounds and falls on her back and twists her little legs in the air, her belly dotted with leaf litter. A tiny furrow cuts through his usually impassive brow, and his mouth, while still tightly closed, turns down a little at the corners. His wild—that seductive scent of crushed bone and evergreen—radiates thicker now, and when I touch his arm, he jolts as if from a waking dream and blinks down at me, looking in this moment like a lost boy.


About the Author: 

Maria Vale is a journalist who has worked for Publishers Weekly, Glamour magazine, Redbook, the Philadelphia Inquirer. She is a logophile and a bibliovore and a worrier about the world.

Trained as a medievalist, she tries to shoehorn the language of Beowulf into things that don’t really need it. She currently lives in New York with her husband, two sons and a long line of dead plants. No one will let her have a pet.

Visit her website.


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SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ Tougher in Texas (Texas Rodeo #3) by Kari Lynn Dell

Title: Tougher in Texas

Series: Texas Rodeo #3

Author: Kari Lynn Dell


Pub Date: August 1, 2017

ISBN: 9781492632009

 

He’s got five rules

And she’s aiming to break them all

Rodeo producer Cole Jacobs has his hands full running Jacobs Livestock. He can’t afford to lose a single cowboy, so when Cousin Violet offers to send along a more-than-capable replacement, he’s got no choice but to accept. He expects a grizzled Texas good ol’ boy.

He gets Shawnee Pickett.

Wild and outspoken, ruthlessly self-reliant, Shawnee’s not looking for anything but a good time. It doesn’t matter how quickly the tall, dark and intense cowboy gets under her skin—Cole deserves something real, and Shawnee can’t promise him forever. Life’s got a way of kicking her in the teeth, and she’s got her bags packed before tragedy can knock her down. Too bad Cole’s not the type to give up when the going gets tough…

Buy Links:

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Giveaway

Three bundles of the first three Texas Rodeo books
(Reckless in Texas, Tangled in Texas, Tougher in Texas)

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My Favorite Fictional Cowboys – For the Love of a Difficult Woman

I adore difficult women…and the cowboys who love them because of it, not in spite. You don’t get much more difficult than Shawnee Pickett in Tougher in Texas. And as Cole Jacobs learns, it only gets harder the closer you get to her. Under that brash, outrageous surface is one tough woman who’s gonna make you prove you deserve her…and that she deserves a happily ever after.

My two favorite difficult movie women aren’t known for westerns. Laura San Giacomo starred in the sitcom Just Shoot Me, and as Julia Robert’s wisecracking best friend Kit in Pretty Woman, but in between she turned in an incredible performance as Crazy Cora, who latches onto Tom Selleck in Quigley Down Under, insisting on calling him by her estranged husband’s name. Much of the humor is on the dark side and the film delves into some deep subject matter—including the systematic genocide of Australia’s aboriginal people and the source of Cora’s madness. San Giacomo flawlessly portrays everything from borderline slapstick to intense grief while being a near constant annoyance to Matthew Quigley—except when the chips are seriously down, which is why this Wyoming cowboy can’t help falling for her. And did I mention staring at Tom Selleck for a couple of hours doesn’t suck?

I have to reach even further back for my second difficult woman—Shirley McLaine in 1970’s Two Mules for Sister Sara, which marked the last time Clint Eastwood would take second billing in a major film role. The movie is set in Mexico during the 1860’s War of French Intervention, with Eastwood and McLaine assisting the rebel Mexican forces. He is also forced to become the reluctant savior and guardian, but it is clear that Sister Sara has her own agenda and no qualms about using this mercenary to achieve her ends. It’s no great surprise when the cigar-smoking sister’s habit turns out to be a disguise—which clears the path for an equally smoking romance—but he never gains the upper hand. You gotta love that about a female character in an early Eastwood western. You go, Sister.

And now for an excerpt from Tougher in Texas, which features Shawnee in prime difficult woman form.

***

The parking Nazis attacked before Shawnee turned off her pickup. Red-faced and dripping sweat under their neon-yellow plastic vests, they waved their orange-painted sticks so frantically you’d think she’d landed a 747 in the contestant lot.

She rolled down her window. “Is there a problem?”

“You can’t park here,” the taller one declared, jamming his thumbs in his pockets and thrusting his beer gut at her.

Shawnee ran a deliberate glance around the clipped grass field, dotted with live oaks like the one she’d parked beneath. Four hours before the first rodeo performance, only seven other rigs had arrived, all lined up with military precision along the back fence. “Looks like there’s plenty of room.”

“There is now.” Beer Gut attempted to radiate pompous authority in a dime-store cowboy hat. “But it’ll get crowded once the rest of the contestants arrive. We have to keep it organized so no one gets blocked in.”

Shawnee gave him the closest thing she had to a polite smile. “Well, then, there’s no problem.

I’m with the stock contractor. I’ll be here for the duration.”

“Oh. Then you belong over there.” The skinnier of the pair gave a dramatic wave of his stick, toward where the two Jacobs Livestock semis, an elderly travel trailer, and Cole’s rig were lined up near the stock pens. There wasn’t a tree within fifty yards.

“I don’t think so.” Shawnee turned off the pickup and opened her door, nearly clipping the big guy’s chin with the side-view mirror.

They both jumped back, then blustered along behind her as she strolled to the rear of the trailer to unload her horses. “You can’t just pull in and take the best parking spot!”

“Why not? My horses and I will be here all week. The contestants will come and go in half a day, at most.” She flipped the latch on the back door and swung it open. The flea-bitten gray in the rear stall cranked his head around to show her the whites of his eyes. Shawnee stepped aside and waited, holding the door wide.

“But…” Skinny began, then faltered, as if he wasn’t sure where to go with it.

“We got rules,” Beer Gut announced. “Contestants park where we tell them to park.”

“I repeat, I’m not a contestant.” A few tentative thuds sounded inside the trailer as the gray attempted to find reverse gear in the confined space. “And if I were you, I’d take a step back.”

The big guy stepped closer. “Listen, missy—”

Whatever wisdom he intended to impart was cut short by a clatter and a bang that rocked the entire trailer, then a huge thud as the gray took one big leap and missed the back edge of the trailer floor with both hind feet. His rear legs buckled from the twelve-inch drop that took him by surprise every single time. He plopped onto his ass, nearly squashing Beer Gut. The gray teetered on his haunches, looking shocked and perplexed, then flopped over onto his side. Shawnee caught the halter rope as the horse scrambled up and stood, legs splayed, quivering as if he wasn’t sure the ground would hold him.

“He has issues,” she told the goggle-eyed parking attendants. Among them, she suspected, a total lack of long-term memory. Or short-term common sense. The horse snorted and Beer Gut stuck out a hand to ward him off.

Shawnee slapped the halter rope into his palm. “Hold that, would you?”

He blanched like she’d tossed him a live cottonmouth.

She didn’t wait for an answer, just stepped up into the trailer to trip the latch on the stall divider and release the second horse, a sorrel who eyed her doubtfully, then began feeling his way backward. At the edge, he extended one foot and waved it around, searching for solid ground. When he found it, he eased on down.

“Here.” She tossed that halter rope to the skinny guy.

He fumbled to grab it, dropping his pretty orange stick. “Now, wait just a minute—”

Shawnee went to the front of the trailer and tripped the last latch. Her good buckskin, Roy, paused long enough to let her scratch his forelock, then ambled out of the trailer and calmly surveyed the latest of the innumerable stops they’d made together. Shawnee tied him on the shady side of the trailer and went to retrieve the other two.

Beer Gut practically threw the halter rope at her. “Look, lady. We already said you can’t park here.”

“And I asked why.” Shawnee persuaded the gray that the grass wasn’t actually quicksand laced with alligators and dragged him around to tie him next to Roy. “You haven’t given me a reason, other than that rules are rules bullshit.”

Beer Gut puffed up like an angry toad. “We were given our orders by the committee president. We have full authority to tow any vehicle in violation.”

“Is that right?” Shawnee did a quick scan and located the rodeo office, a small white building to the left of the bucking chutes. “Let’s just go have a chat with him, shall we?”

She strode away without looking back, ignoring both the outraged squawking and, “Wait! What am I supposed to do with this horse?”

***

Cole heard the sound of agitated voices, closing in fast. Katie scrambled to attention as the office door burst open, framing the female version of a Tasmanian devil—glittering eyes, wild hair, and a wide, malicious grin. One of the parking attendants huffed up behind her. Over their shoulders Cole spotted a second, skinnier guy holding a lead rope and standing well back from a sorrel horse that regarded him with equal distrust.

The parking attendant shoved into the office, his face frighteningly flushed, and zeroed in on Cole. “You’re the contractor, right? Jacobs?”

“Yes,” Cole admitted reluctantly.

“Well, this one—” The attendant jabbed a thumb at Shawnee, who gave a cheesy finger wave. “She claims she works for you, but she won’t park in your area.”

“I’m happier with the contestants. And shade. But if you insist—” She flashed Cole a smile so loaded with sugar it made his teeth ache. “I noticed there’s an open spot right next to you. I suppose I can move if I have to.”

He’d rather do CPR on the entire parking staff. Cole drew in a deep, supposedly calming breath. “Leave her be.”

Shawnee made a triumphant so there noise.

The parking attendant muttered and growled, but turned on his heel and marched off, leaving his bug-eyed partner to deal with the horse, which Cole assumed must belong to the natural disaster now surveying the office like she couldn’t decide what to destroy next.

Cole heaved a beleaguered sigh and gestured toward the rest of the crew lounging around the office. “Everyone, meet Shawnee Pickett.”


10904548_329608287246855_122230511325396069_oKARI LYNN DELL brings a lifetime of personal experience to writing western romance. She is a third-generation rancher and rodeo competitor who works on the family ranch in northern Montana, inside the Blackfeet Nation.
She exists in a perpetual state of horse-induced poverty along with her husband, Max and Spike the (female) Cowdogs, a few hundred cows and a son who resides on the same general segment of the autism spectrum as Cole Jacobs and doesn’t believe names should be gender-limited.

LINKS:

Website
Twitter
Facebook


 

RELEASE DAY BLITZ ~ Stepbrother Anomymous by Aria Cole

 

 

 

 



Love is for suckers.

That’s always been Hudson Farrow’s take on it. His mother has practically made a career out of saying I do, which is why he’s found himself in another upstate town, preparing to watch her walk down the aisle with another yacht club asshole, nursing his cynicism with Scotch at another lonely dive bar. A sassy siren that sets his blood on fire wasn’t part of the plan, neither was a new stepsister, and now Hudson’s a man with a problem because he’s just found out they’re one in the same.


Skylar Walsh never thought the one and only man she’s ever brought home would turn into anything beyond a few orgasms. Until six-foot-four, sinfully sexy, talented and tattooed sweeps her off her feet–and right between his thighs–on his custom Harley. When Hudson demands her phone number before the night’s over she knows she’s in for a wild ride. When she runs into him at her father’s wedding the next day she realizes she may have just made the biggest mistake of her life. A dozen sheet-clenching, toe-curling, and soul-shatteringly good times in the last twenty-four-hours.


Warning: Hudson is hellbent on his Sky, and he won’t let a little thing like I do come between them. Filthy-sweet tattooed hearts, perfectly placed piercings that hit all the right spots, and love and fate inked so deep no force can keep them apart. Hold onto your hearts because Stepbrother Anonymous stole mine! xo Aria



 

 


Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next!

Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!


BLOG TOUR ~ Bossed by Sloane Howell

 

 

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He’s the boss. But she’s ready to take charge.


In this provocative and sexy* office romance, a cheeky new hire tempts a
hotshot sports agent to mix business with pleasure.


Jenny: Job interviews are a bitch under the best of circumstances, but when your potential boss is the world’s biggest prick, that’s when you should simply walk away. It’s just that I need this job so badly—and I’m mesmerized by Ethan Mason’s piercing gaze. Men like him aren’t supposed to exist in real life. But under the tailored suits and GQ looks, Ethan simmers with barely restrained ambition. And no matter how hard I work to fight the attraction, I’m going to get burned.

Ethan: You don’t become a top agent without learning how to close deal. I always get what—or who—I want, by staying cool and in command. Then Jenny Jackson walks into my office with her lush curves and “screw you” attitude and blows away my intentions of keeping things professional. All I can think about is exploring the perfect body hidden beneath those conservative clothes or shutting her saucy mouth with one hot kiss. Jenny’s worth breaking the rules over—if I can convince her to break the rules for me.


*By sexy, we mean sexy. Like, 18+ sexy.


 

When I turned back to the cart, a suit and tie slammed into me, knocking my bag to the ground. I stumbled around in a momentary daze, trying to process what had just occurred.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.” I crouched down and quickly gathered all the papers that had spilled out of my bag and shoved them back in. Finally, I turned my head to meet a perfectly creased pair of black slacks, then lifted my gaze up to his face. The guy had to be mid-to-late twenties. He glared down at me with a pair of warm brown eyes, holding his phone to his ear. His hair was dark and combed back like the models who graced the covers of GQ or Style. His lips curled into a devilish smile as my face flushed with heat at the sight of such a handsome man. It was like seeing a lion on the Discovery Channel, only live and in the flesh. Predatory men like him weren’t supposed to actually exist in day-to-day life.
His brows pinched together and he scoffed, “You’re excused.”
I was at fault. I knew this. Standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk and staring out into the park was just asking for trouble. But something about his cocky attitude and the way he spoke to me crept under my skin in the worst possible way. Pulling myself to my feet, I propped my hands on my hips, and glared at the back of his jacket as he started to walk away. “Excuse me?”
He froze in his tracks as I eyed him from head to toe. His suit hugged him perfectly, as if it were specifically tailored to every dimension of what I imagined was the body of a Greek god. But being attractive wasn’t an excuse for being a dick, no matter how fast my heart sped up when he turned around, and his gorgeous eyes found mine again.
“Hang on a moment,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone.
He took a few steps that seemed to last an eternity as he neared me. “Sorry. I thought I’d said you were excused already.” He paused for a quick moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh my. You’re deaf.”
He held out his hands and flawlessly signed, You’re excused. I knew because I’d minored in ASL in college.
Before thinking, I signed back, You’re a fucking prick, coupled with a smile that matched my sentiment.
He stared at me like I was an alien for another brief moment, before raking his gaze up and down my body. I clenched my fists at the shiver it sent crawling up my spine, and the heat it sent between my thighs.
“Well, aren’t you a clever one? Never would’ve guessed you had an attitude, judging by that outfit.” He smirked.
I folded my arms across my chest and stared lasers into his eyes. The same eyes that sent nerves skittering through my body. “Well, aren’t you—”
His hand shot out and his index finger was against my lips. “Shh.” He slid his finger down my mouth slowly before pulling it away and pointing to his phone. “Important phone call.”
He stared out at the park as my chest rose and fell in huge waves. My face heated to an alarming degree.
“Yeah, well don’t let them fuck up my sandwich this time. I want the condiments on the side. They get the bread all soggy.” He cupped his hand over the phone and whispered, “So sorry. This will only be a second. Then we can get back to”—he waggled his index finger back and forth between the two of us—“this little thing we have going on here.”
I should bite his damn finger off. Or lick it. What the hell, Jenny?
“Yeah, see that it’s right before you bring it back to the office. Bye.” He tapped the screen on his phone and shoved it into his jacket pocket, then grinned at me. “Are we finished here?”
“I bet you hear that a lot from the ladies.” I tapped my foot on the ground. He picked the wrong woman to be an asshole to. I didn’t care how expensive his Armani whatever suit cost, being a jerk wasn’t acceptable. Who did he think he was?
“It’s usually more like, ‘I want you to finish here.’ ” He pointed at my chest and smiled a toothy grin.
I remained unmoved by his misogynistic sarcasm. His smile widened.
“No?” He drew out the syllable. “Here?” He canted his head sideways and pointed at my mouth, then chuckled. “What’s wrong? You can dish it out but can’t take it?”
I sighed and gave him an obviously fake laugh. “Oh, I can take it. I just prefer an entree. Not an appetizer.” I shot a glance to his crotch.
He leaned down next to me, his breath warm in my ear. “I can assure you, there’s plenty to eat down there.” He rose back up and examined me once more, as people made their way around us. “And it looks like you’ve been starving yourself for a while. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important things to do.”





That’s right. I’m a guy.”


Thank you for having me on your blog and letting me tell your readers a little about myself. My name is Sloane Howell. Wait, that’s not true. I have a normal guy’s name but that’s irrelevant. Fact is, I’m a normal married guy with a kid and two dogs and an asshole cat.
People ask me all the time how I started writing romance. I think people are curious about an average every day guy writing the genre. Obviously, it was so I could get thousands of followers on social media and make millions of dollars. Why else would a dude write romance? It certainly wasn’t to get in touch with my feelings or some other pussy reason like that. It wasn’t to make my writing well-rounded. Only a good writer would have a goal like that. Money and fame is the way to go, always. Facebook likes is how you should always measure your success.
Hah! Sorry, I joke a lot. I’ll punish myself accordingly.
There were a lot of reasons and I never expected it to be half as successful as I’ve been. I figured I could bring something different to the table writing from a man’s POV. When I wrote the first story of my Panty Whisperer series I didn’t know if my wife would divorce me when she read it or drag me to the bedroom. I’m still married so you can do the math. Apparently, it worked for readers too because I’m still around and my fans seem to enjoy my writing style.
It’s funny, because when I started researching the genre in the beginning, well, I won’t lie, I kind of expected stories that were written directly for women with these ridiculous expectations of how a man would act from a female’s point of view. A big feels fest with some unrealistic cheesiness.
I was pleasantly surprised, because the stories I dove into were anything but that. They were dirty, raunchy, hilarious, and I was hooked. I had to write something and there’s something about the disconnect when you’re just sitting in front of a keyboard that just lets you not hold back.
The naughtier the story, the more people liked it. Hair pulling (which I maintain is the answer to world peace), ass slapping, you name it, the more the merrier. Make the hero throw the heroine over his shoulder like a caveman and I’d get twenty messages immediately asking for more. There’s nothing an author loves more than having people chasing you down for more stories.
So, like any sane person, I kept writing them and kept trying to get better. The fact is that erotic romance can affect a reader the way other genres just can’t. It’s like my buddy from my sci fi days E.J. Robinson said (I’m paraphrasing), ‘You can read a murder mystery and you won’t go out and try to solve crimes. But when you read an erotic romance you can damn sure grab your significant other annnd go get busy in the sheets.’
Love and hate are the two strongest emotions in the world, so I try to slam a reader with both whenever I get the chance. Because I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t trying to push those buttons. I hope you’ll check out BOSSED (3/28/17) and SCORED (8/22/17) – and let me know if I achieved my goal.
Check out my blog and join my newsletter at: http://www.sloanehowell.com
Follow me on: Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram

Thanks so much for having me! 😊




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Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.

 

Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.

 

Author Links
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SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ Tangled in Texas (Texas Rodeo, #2) by Kari Lynn Dell


Title: Tangled in Texas9781492631972-pr 

Series: Texas Rodeo, #2

Author: Kari Lynn Dell

Pub Date: February 7, 2017

ISBN: 9781492631972

 

It took 32 seconds to end his career.
But it only took 1 to change his life.

Thirty-two seconds. That’s how long it took for Delon Sanchez’s life to end. One minute he was the best bronc rider in the Panhandle and the next he was nothing. Knee shattered, future in question, all he can do is pull together the pieces…and wonder what cruel trick of fate has thrown him into the path of his ex, the oh-so-perfect Tori Patterson.

Tori’s come home after her husband’s death, intent on escaping the public eye. It’s just her luck that Delon limps into her physical therapy office, desperate for help. All hard-packed muscle and dark-eyed temptation, he’s never been anything but a bad idea. And yet, seeing him again, Tori can’t remember what made her choose foolish pride over love…or why, with this second, final chance to right old wrongs, the smartest choice would be to run from this gorgeous rodeo boy as fast as her boots can take her.

Buy Links:

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Barnes & Noble

Chapters

iBooks

Indiebound


FROM THE AUTHOR

Sortin’ the Herd—How a Real Cowgirl Cuts Off the Straystangled-kirkus

Nowadays pretty much anyone can pop online and order up a full set of cowboy duds to wear to their nearest rodeo. Which I think is awesome, by the way. The companies that sell those hats, boots and peart snap shirts are also the sponsors that keep my favorite sport in business. I’d be thrilled to pull into the next rodeo and see a Stetson or Resistol on every head, and Justin or Ariat boots on every pair of feet. But it also makes it harder for a girl to tell…which are the real cowboys, and which are just playing the part?

Luckily, it doesn’t take long to sort off the bleacher buckaroos. I’ve put together a few never-fail tips to help you identify the wanna-be’s, like this one:

He shows you his scar and waxes poetic about the bucking bronco that gave it to him. Cowboys don’t have broncos, unless they have purchased a boxy Ford vehicle which is now at least twenty years old and has been repurposed so they and at least three traveling partners can bed down in the back, along with all their gear and a beer cooler. At the rodeo—and sometimes, unexpectedly, on cold, windy days at the ranch—we ride broncs. Or bucking horses. Or “you dirty rotten—”…um, on second thought, probably not an appropriate word for this post. But infinitely more cowboy than calling them broncos.

Take note of the word in bold face above. When you’ve finished reading about Tangled in Texas and enjoying the excerpt below, come on over to my blog, Montana for Real, to find the rest of my helpful hints. Collect all the of key words and you’ll get a free download of the unofficial soundtrack to Tangled in Texas.

Kari


EXCERPT

Tori hunched her shoulders against the chilly breeze and walked around to the side of the building. The staircase was metal, narrow and steep. No way would she let Delon go up those alone. She went back to find him maneuvering his leg out of the car. He hissed in pain when his toe caught on the doorframe. She stepped closer and offered a hand. His fingers were warm and strong as always, but the clasp of his palm against hers felt different.

The calluses were gone. Those hard ridges on the fingers and palm of his riding hand that had been such a raspy, delicious contrast to her most sensitive spots. The nape of her neck. The inside of her thigh. Her nipples. She remembered how he’d smiled when he realized what it did to her—a dangerous smile full of wicked promises.

She let go so abruptly he lost his balance and had to grab the open car door to keep from toppling backward.

“Oops,” she said. “Slipped.”

And fell face first into another hormonal bog. Damn. She really had to get a hold of herself, before she went totally bonkers and tried to get a hold of Delon instead. That would be bad. Because he was her patient—and he was her past. They were both, to paraphrase his words, fucked up. Two broken halves couldn’t make a functional whole. Could they?

“I can make it from here,” he said.

She stepped back, but fell in beside him as he limped around the side of the shop. “Those stairs are treacherous.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. I’ll be fine.”

“I doubt you were half tanked before. So rather than stand back and watch you roll ass over teakettle down a flight of stairs, I’ll just follow you on up.” His expression went mutinous, his bottom lip poking out, and she laughed outright. “Wow. I bet that’s exactly what Beni looks like when he doesn’t get his way.”

His scowl dissolved into a weary sigh. “It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it.” Beginning with her father’s divorce bomb, but she wasn’t thinking about that now.

Delon grasped the stair rail and stepped up with his good leg, then brought his sore leg level. Tori let him get two steps above her, then put her hand on the railing behind his, her upper body canted forward so she had leverage if he started to sway. Her position put his butt directly in her line of sight. Dear Lord, that was one nice butt. She yanked her gaze away, to a trio of trucks parked in a row alongside the shop, the chrome and polished paint of the tractors gleaming under the security lights.

A familiar fascination tugged at her sleeve. Big rigs had a sexy mystique, like modern day stagecoaches, the drivers perched high and proud, all that horsepower at their command. She’d had fantasies about Delon dragging her into one of those sleepers. Carrying her off to crisscross the country, just the two of them on an endless road trip, town after town of strangers who didn’t know or care who her father was. She gazed at the nearest black one, streamlined as a stealth fighter. Climb on in, it whispered. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.

Her head rammed into Delon’s elbow as he stopped on the landing. When she stumbled, he grabbed the back of her coat and hauled her upright as easily as if she was Beni’s size.

“Good thing you came along to keep me safe,” he deadpanned, then raised his eyebrows. “Were you staring at my trucks?”

At first she thought he said butt, and her face went hot, before she realized he’d caught her checking out the semis. “They’re pretty.”

“Pretty.” He spit the word out in disgust. “Next thing, you’ll call them cute.”

She drew herself up, offended. “Cute is not in my vocabulary.”

“But you do have a thing for trucks.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s okay. Lots of girls do.” His smile was sly, his eyes gleaming with something wild and dangerous.

She suddenly realized they were face to face on the landing, their bodies touching, if you didn’t count the five layers of clothes between them. His hand was still on her shoulder and his fingers tightened fractionally, as if he would pull her even closer. Her heart sprouted legs and launched into a frantic gallop. Oh God. What if he kissed her? She wasn’t ready for that. Was she? If he leaned in and put his mouth on hers, would she shove him away, or devour him?


About the Author10904548_329608287246855_122230511325396069_o


Kari Lynn Dell
is a ranch-raised Montana cowgirl who attended her first rodeo at two weeks old and has existed in a state of horse-induced poverty ever since. She lives on the Blackfeet Reservation in her parents’ bunkhouse along with her husband, her son, and Max the Cowdog, with a tipi on her lawn, Glacier National Park on her doorstep and Canada within spitting distance.
Her debut novel, The Long Ride Home, was published in 2015. She also writes a ranch and rodeo humor column for several regional newspapers and a national agricultural publication.

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PROMO TOUR ~ Passion Series by by J.A. Melville

 
Series Promo Tour
Passion Series 
by J.A. Melville
 
 
Passion After Dark: Book One
 
 
 
 
Synopsis
 

When Dominick Cavallo first saw Allegra Anderson, he knew instantly that she was the one for him. Unfortunately Allegra Anderson, best-selling author of erotica and self-confessed clutz, didn’t even know he existed. That is about to change. 


The night Allegra’s house mate Cassie insists she come out clubbing with her is the night that fate intervenes.
From the moment Allegra sees Dominick at the club when he rescues her from the unwanted attentions of another man, she’s spellbound by his stunning good looks. His black hair, startlingly blue eyes and the way he speaks to her, has her totally captivated by him. He is the sexiest thing she’s ever seen and the attraction is instant and intense.
Dominick disappears not long after Allegra meets him and she’s devastated that she may never see him again. A week later, he reappears, when she least expects it and she learns something about him that could change the way she feels about him. He is not human, he is vampire.
Dominick is different to the other vampires. He has no desire to live their lifestyle but they are a part of his life whether he wants them or not. Allegra doesn’t want to be part of that lifestyle either. When she meets Dominick’s sire, the brooding but sexy Fabian, she feels both unwanted attraction and fear for him. Fabian makes it clear he wants Allegra for himself and he will do anything to get her, even if it means destroying Dominick and Allegra’s relationship.
Will he end up driving them apart? Will Allegra be able to come to terms with what Dominick is? 
 
When something unexpected happens, that will change who she is forever, can their love survive?
With Allegra’s discovery of her newly acquired ‘abilities,’ suddenly everything changes. Will it all be too much? Will Fabian succeed and ruin everything? Can Dominick and Allegra survive all that is determined to tear them apart or will love truly conquer all?
 


Passion By Control: Book Two

 
 
 
 
Synopsis
 

Sirene Devereaux came to town, looking for a man; but not just any man, she was looking for a vampire.

This wasn’t about finding love. She was in town to do a job. It was business, not pleasure. She had to hunt down one particular vampire and make his very existence a living hell. To hide her true identity, she got a job as a waitress and eventually some gigs singing, since that was her real passion. Of course there was more to her than met the eye. Sirene was a witch.

It didn’t take her long to find a place to stay, make friends and find her vampire. In fact, he found her.

Fabian Sorensen wants Sirene the moment he lays eyes on her, but unfortunately his natural charm doesn’t seem to work on her. He’s used to getting any woman he wants, yet she seems immune.

When he finally gets the chance to spend a night with her, he discovers she’s no ordinary woman, she’s a witch and he hates witches. It has never ended well for him when he encounters them.

Sirene is no different. She hurts him, humiliates him and attacks the one thing precious to him, his manhood and for that, he wants revenge. He learns she’s been sent to torture him and she’s a serious threat to his normally controlled world. He has survived over 600 years and suddenly everything is threatened by one tiny raven haired witch.

She thwarts his attempts to make her pay for what she did to him. Any time he’s around her, she completely unmans him. He hates that he is attracted to her. He uses women for blood and sex, he doesn’t do relationships, so why is this one messing with his head so much?

Sirene too, is drawn to him which goes against everything she is in town to do. She’s supposed to loathe him, not like him. The attraction between them is powerful but will it ultimately destroy them?

When a series of challenges arises and their very lives are threatened, can they survive? With so much against them, is it possible for a witch and a vampire to truly find love?



Passion Follows Pain: Book Three
 
 
 
 
Synopsis
 

For most of her life, the only thing Arissa Petros has known is abuse. She is just 19 years old when, with the help of a friend, she runs away from her abuser. Wanting as much distance between the man who has hurt her and herself, she travels to another state working as a housekeeper for an elderly lady with a broken leg. Arissa’s never been away from home or another state so everything is frightening to her. She is torn between fear of the unknown and relief at being away from the man who abused her for so long. 


Mrs Appleby is kind and caring and it doesn’t take Arissa long to settle in to her new life. For the first time ever, she feels happy and safe, that is, until she meets one of the neighbours from over the road.
Lucian Andreas is the classic tall, dark and handsome man. He wants her and pursues her despite the fact she is terrified and wants nothing to do with him. As far as Arissa is concerned, men represent pain and aren’t to be trusted. She has no desire to have anything to do with them ever!
Lucian won’t give up on her though and slowly but surely he breaks down her defences. He is the first man she has ever wanted to spend time with. He makes her feel things she’s never felt before and she finds herself longing for the touch of his lips, the strong safe haven of his arms.
When Lucian finds out about Arissa’s past, it only makes him want her more, determined to prove to her that not all men are bad and that sex doesn’t have to represent pain and humiliation. But first he has to come clean; reveal his true identity to her. He has to tell her he’s a vampire. Despite his initial fears, his revelation doesn’t frighten her off and in fact brings them closer together. Lucian opens up a whole new world to her filled with passion and excitement. That is, until tragedy strikes and suddenly everything changes when Arissa’s past catches up with her and her life is in danger.
Will Lucian be able to save her in time? Can they survive? Will their relationship handle the stresses placed on it? Everything seems lost, that all hope is gone until that chance discovery one night. That one thing that changes everything…

***NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR***
 
As a survivor of abuse myself, please be aware that this book touches on the subject of abuse and may be a trigger for some. It is not a story about abuse, but rather the damage that abuse causes on a person, both emotionally and physically. 



Passion And Fire: Book Four
 
 
 
 
Synopsis
 
Flame is a pole dancer. She’s beautiful and a redhead with the temper to match. She doesn’t do relationships since they often end badly for her, especially her last one, which had been a disaster. She also has a secret. She can move things with her mind. 
 
Damien is tall, dark, handsome and a notorious womaniser. He is also a vampire. He loves all women, but only for a good time, not a long time. A different woman every night is his philosophy, and he uses his stunning good looks and other talents to get what he wants, blood and sex. 
 
When Damien sees Flame one night at the strip club, he instantly wants her and is frustrated when she fails to fall for his charms. In fact she calls him a loser and leaves him aching for her. 
 
Unforeseen events soon find them in a position where their secrets are revealed to one another and they decide to give in to the attraction they can no longer fight to ignore. One night of hot and sweaty sex should be enough to satisfy their desires and then they can go their separate ways. 
 
The sex between them is passionate, intense and explosive and it quickly becomes obvious, one night will never be enough. Will two commitment phobics ever be able to have a relationship or will they walk away? 
 
Damien is the first to give in to the feelings he can no longer ignore and persuades Flame to come home with him. She finally opens up to him and it looks like they are both ready to try being a couple until tragedy strikes.  
 
Can Flame and Damien survive what happened or will their tentative commitment to one another be torn apart?


Passion For Hire: Book Five
 
 
 

Synopsis
 

If you could have the man of your dreams would you go after him?

That was the question Faith asked herself when a tall dark haired, sexy as sin vampire started coming to her in her dreams. Most would dismiss it as nothing more than that, just dreams; but not her. Faith was no ordinary young woman, she was a visionary.

She could see peoples’ futures in her dreams and by touching them. When she started seeing the beautiful vampire as she slept, she knew she had to go after him. Discovering he lived in the same house as the sister she never knew she had, just made it easier.

For Adrian the sudden appearance of the stunningly beautiful but innocent Faith meant trouble for him. For two years he’d been living a lie, and keeping a secret about what he got up to each night. His family had no idea, and that was how it had to be until Faith’s arrival threatened it all.

With her sheer determination to prove that they were destined for one another, suddenly Adrian’s life was thrown into chaos. For Faith who had ‘seen’ his future and knew his secrets it was simple, come clean and accept that he was hers.

Of course in her mind it was that simple, but not to Adrian. He still fought her at every turn, appearing to want her and then pushing her away again. Finally when things got too much, he ran, abandoning her and leaving her broken hearted.

Then something happened, something that threatened their lives and had the potential to change everything. Was this going to be Faith’s chance for happily ever after or would everything be lost?

Would her visions become her nightmares, or was she finally going to get Adrian, who had literally been the man of her dreams?



Passion Becomes Her: Book Six
 
 
 
 
Synopsis
 

It’s been almost a century since everything changed.

Nearly a century since Francesca lost everyone and everything that night.

Only one person knows, one man saw it all; her sire, her saviour. He pulled her back from death and the brink of insanity.
Only one man truly knows her and Fabian promised he would never reveal the horrors of her past to anyone else.
She’s gone decades hiding her true self behind a mask of indifference; her clothes, her makeup like a costume so no one will see the real her.
It’s worked all these years until him…….
Lucas is the young man turned vampire by accident two years ago. He is the vampire with a heart and soul. He’s also an empath. He can feel what others are feeling……..
Something about him triggers flashbacks to Francesca’s past and her sleep is plagued by horrific nightmares.
Her screams wake Lucas and he comes to her, soothing and comforting her. The trouble is Francesca doesn’t want his comfort, she doesn’t want anyone. Anyone she’s ever cared about has been lost to her.
She uses Lucas to help her forget. Sex has always been her coping mechanism. Use them for sex and move on, but something about Lucas keeps drawing her back to him.
The sex is explosive, passionate and intense. The sex helps her forget her past, until afterwards when her resentment towards him makes her turn on him; punishing him physically and with cruel words. He makes her feel and she doesn’t want to feel. She doesn’t want to remember. She doesn’t want to feel anything for this man who has been the catalyst for those painful memories to resurface.
It’s unhealthy and dangerous, until one night something happens that changes everything. 
 
Francesca’s past collides with her present and her already fragile state of mind is tested further.
Will it destroy them now everything has changed?


 

 

About the Author
 
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved to write, poetry, short stories just about anything. My English teachers in school kept telling me I should write and it took me a lot of years to finally get around to it. 
 
I spent too long worrying about failing as a writer before I realized that living with the regret of never trying was worse.
 
I live in a sleepy country town in Tasmania, Australia with my partner and our three children, who aren’t so little anymore, plus a whole assortment of animals. 
 
Natasha’s Awakening is my first book but I have no intention of stopping now and will continue to live my dream of being a published author. I have just published Taming Eric which is his POV to Natasha’s Awakening. 
  
My interests are writing of course, reading, watching movies and hanging out at home with my family, our six cats and one dog.
 
You can find me on Facebook under my author page J.A. Melville and my book’s page Natasha’s Awakening.

 

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