Category Archives: From the Author

NEW RELEASE ~ A Demon Stole My Kitty (Werewolves, Vampires and Demons, Oh My #3) by Eve Langlais

A Demon Stole My Kitty

Werewolves, Vampires and Demons, Oh My #3

I’m a witch. Not a good one or a bad one, although according to the snooty wizards, I’m a stain upon their robes.

But who cares what those snobs say?

I’ve got a job to do; stop demons from infiltrating Earth and killing all the witches. Concentrating on my job is hard, though.

First, the guy who’s decided he’s going to help me is hotter than Arizona in the summer. Like seriously, melt-my-panties-into-ash sexy.

Second, demons are targeting witches such as me because, apparently, we’re a tasty snack.

Finally, the kitten I adopted has gone missing, and if I’m not mistaken, a demon stole it.

If there’s one thing you should never do is mess with a witch’s pussy. I don’t care who I have to fight to get my furball back! And if I fall in love along the way…then it will at least get my mother off my back.

Store links


RELEASE DATE: April 19, 2018

CATEGORIES:

  • Dark Humor
  • Fantasy Romance
  • Paranormal Romance
  • Romantic Comedy
  • Urban Fantasy
  • Witch Romance

A Demon Stole My Kitty FAQs

  1. What did you enjoy best about returning to this series?

This series is just too funny to write. There is something over the top and liberating about a world where magic is out of the closet, women are encouraged to have harems, and a witch has to deal with pompous wizards.

  1. Can you tell us a little about the Werewolves, Vampires and Demons, Oh My Series?

The series, which is three books long, starts in book one, Indecent Werewolf Exposure, with the murder of a witch. Turns out that the witch murders are the start of a demonic invasion, where not just humanity is at risk, supernaturals are too. It’s a wild ride with plenty of urban fantasy elements for those who love a twisty adventure and world. It also has sexy times because in my romance books, the woman always gets her man–and sometimes men.

  1. What should we expect in this book?

It is a paranormal romantic comedy, heavy on the action and adventure. The dialogue between the H and h is to die for. As are the heroines family. If you like a smile when you read, then this is a good choice for you.

  1. What is your hero/heroine like?

Willow is a feisty, red headed, human witch who just can’t get any respect from the wizards. Until Alistair. The handsome wizard isn’t like anyone she’s ever met but he proves to be a handy backup when the demon attacks begin to hit close to home.

  1. Why are readers are going to love this book?

You want something with a bit more meat, a bit more story and a bunch of secrets to unravel? Then this will feed that hunger. It’s a vivid and laughter filled urban fantasy with a strong romance.

  1. What is your favorite scene in this book?

How dare he laugh at my Smart car?

I planted my hands on my hips—in a gesture wincingly reminiscent of my mother—and glared at him. “Stop laughing. This is not funny.”

He pointed. “That is not a car.”

“It is indeed a car. My car. And I don’t appreciate your disparagement of what is a very environmentally friendly choice.”

“It’s a little can on four wheels. You would be better protected riding a bicycle with a helmet.

“A car isn’t supposed to be a moving tank.”

“I disagree.”

“Let me guess, that’s your truck?” I gestured to the military-grade Hummer parked out front.

“It is.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little overboard?”

“A man in my position can’t be too safe.”

“You’re killing the planet with your gas-guzzling beast.” I inclined my head at his hulking metal machine.

“It won’t be the release of carbon into the atmosphere that destroys the world.”

“How would you know?”

“Because, according to the ancient texts I studied, the coming apocalypse will.”

“Apocalypse?” I snorted. “For a man of supposed intelligence, you need to stop reading the Bibles written in the past. We all know it was a time of suspicion where everything, even a priest farting, was a portent.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t mock the butterfly effect.”

“Don’t mock my car.”

“I won’t when you get a real one.”

  1. Do people have to read the other books in this series first, or can they jump right in?

While you could read this one first, to truly get the full world effect, I would recommend doing them in order.  So Indecent Werewolf Exposure, Mr. Peabody’s House and then A Demon Stole my Kitty.


FAQS ABOUT EVE

Can you tell me a little about yourself?

My name is Eve Langlais and I am a Canadian writer currently residing in our nation’s capital, Ottawa. I’ve been writing since 2009, and published since 2010. Initially, I began my career writing for four small e-presses, but have since then moved on to self-publishing, as well as signing a deal with St. Martin’s Press. I’ve had several of my indie titles hit theNew York TimesTodaylists, which was really exciting.

What kind of books do you write?

I am a romance writer, who tends to flip between science fiction romance and paranormal. I love to let my imagination go wild and have a blast creating new worlds and rules for my creations. Readers often comment (and giggle) because of my heavy use of humour and sarcasm in my stories. I love a little laughter, or in some cases a lot lol, with my romance.

Is writing your full time job?

I am a full time writer at this point in my career, working anywhere from 60 plus hours, 7 days a week, but I love it.

What was the first moment you knew you wanted to write?

When I was a kid, I loved to scribble down stories. I excelled in my creative writing class and had dreams of writing something epic. Then real life interfered for 20 years lol. But, I think that break gave me the life experiences I needed to make my stories believable – hot.

How did you get started writing romance novels?

I began writing on a dare from my husband. It happened just after Christmas in 2009. In my mid thirties, a mom of three, and working from home as customer service rep and webmistress, I turned a lot to books for entertainment. I was a happily ever after junkie, and I was tired of reading stories that went in directions I hated. My husband dared me to do better and I hate it when he wins. Needless to say, more than 100 books later, he’s very proud of himself for challenging me.

What is your approach to writing?

When it comes to writing, I am a pantster. I don’t outline and tend to let the characters tell me where the story is going, although I do have notes about my characters and the world scattered all over my desk. It’s a fun way of writing because they take me in directions I never expected.

What is a typical writing day like for you?

I am very structured when it comes to sitting down and getting words written. I write Monday to Friday starting from just after 8am until at least 11 am or noon. If I’ve not hit my word count goal of the day, then I write again after lunch. My weekly goals are usually to get 15-25K words written. I’m very regimented in that respect lol.

Where do you get your ideas?

Anything and everything can influence my brain lol. While I prefer pure silence when writing, if I’m in the car and hear Styx Mr. Roboto, I totally want to go home and write cyborgs. Seeing animals on television, especially silly ones, makes me want to write shifters. It doesn’t take much to fire my imagination.

For me it’s the odd things that will strike me and make me go what if… For example, my idea forAn Alpha Purrsabout after a haircut. For some reason the oddest idea popped in my head. I wondered what would happen if a hairdresser cut a lion’s mane? Because in my world, lions are so vain, lol.

What do you like to read?

My first author crush was Stephen King. I gobbled up his early work like a starving reader, and then I discovered Johanna Lindsay and went on a romance reading rampage. She was the one who made me discover Science Fiction romance with Warrior’s Woman.

My dear friend Darynda Jones writes with amazing humor. The team of Ilona Andrews are autobuys for me as well because they have taken their world building to such a fantastic level.

If I’m looking for great urban fantasy, I go to Jim Butcher. Mystery is Tess Gerritsen. Hot hunks written by someone else, Laurann Dohner.

Where do you see yourself and your characters in five years?

I see dozens of new faces added and new worlds. I see my ass still parked in a chair while the voices ride me making sure I tell their story.

Do you have a favourite amongst all your characters, world or series?

Lucifer, that big bad devil from my Hell series is probably my all time favorite. As to why? He’s evil. He doesn’t even pretend to be good, and his unwilling affection for his family is hilarious. In general, he is so entertaining and wickedly lovable you can’t help yourself.

Which of your books would you recommend as a starting point for new readers?

There is no one perfect book for everyone. It’s why I write diverse series from aliens, to cyborgs, to shifters, to demons… Some of them are chock full of humor (Alien Abduction,Lion’s Pride), others have a strain of darkness to them (Pack,Point). What a reader chooses should be about what caught their eye. Find something that seduces the curious reader in you.

What can readers expect when they open one of your books?

I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a happily ever after.

What have been some of your fan-favourite characters?

The favorite shifter would have to be Boris the moose. He is a grumpy fellow with a big rack, but despite that, gun toting Jan, who loves to wear heels and pearls, still fell for him.

And then there was Lucifer who began as a secondary character in my Hell books but kept stealing the show. Writing evil characters is always fun.


BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy

Eve Langlais’ books are always a really great, fun read and A Demon Stole My Kitty was no exception!! 

Creatures from another realm out to take over the world, demonic possessions, snotty wizards, sassy witches, an adorable ginger kitten and a couple of supernatural beings with a few secrets all add up to a laugh out loud, action packed, hot and sexy paranormal read that I adored and read in an evening (I couldn’t put my kindle down!!)

I purchased the other two books in the Werewolves, Vampires and Demons, Oh My! series on their respective release days but for whatever reason (that I’m still trying to figure out!) I haven’t yet gotten round to reading them but after finishing this read today that’s something that I’ll most definitely be resolving in the very near future!! 

This is a 5* read in my opinion and another hit from Ms Langlais!!!


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eve Langlais is New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Canadian author who writes hot romance with a bit of a twist. She is hybrid published through her own indie published titles, some small e-publishers, and a deal with St. Martin’s Press.

Eve has a twisted imagination and a sarcastic sense of humor. She is well-known for her shifter stories, but also is partial to demons, aliens, and cyborgs. Despite her adventurous stories, she swears that she is boring as a stay at home mom juggling three kids, a hubby, housework, and a mean game of Candy Crush.

Eve is the organizer of Romancing the Capital, Ottawa’s premier romance reader and writer event.

High resolution images can be found at: evelanglais.com/wordpress/media-kit


CONTACT EVE

Email: eve@evelanglais.com

Website: evelanglais.com

Facebook: bit.ly/faceevel

Twitter: twitter.com/evelanglais

Newsletter: evelanglais.com/newrelease

Amazon: http://bit.ly/evelamz

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/goodreadseve

Romancing the Capital: orc.evelanglais.com


 

SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ Fearless in Texas (Texas Rodeo #4) by Kari Lynn Dell

 
Title: Fearless in Texas

Series: Texas Rodeo #4

Author: Kari Lynn Dell


Pub Date: April 3, 2018

ISBN: 9781492658115

 

He’d step in front of a bull to save a life

But even he’s no match for a girl this Texas tough

Rodeo bullfighter Wyatt Darrington’s got it all figured out. The perfect car, the perfect job, the perfect looks—the perfect lie. He may be on the fast track to the Hall of Fame, but he knows he’ll always be an outsider to people like Melanie Brookman. Texas-born and bred, with the arena in her blood, Melanie’s come to see Wyatt as her personal enemy, and that suits him just fine—this way, she’ll never realize the truth.

He’s been crazy in love with her for years.

Melanie’s always been a fighter. Fiercely independent and tough as nails, she’s stood up to everything that got in her way—including Wyatt. But now her infamous temper’s got her on the ropes, and there’s nowhere left to run but toward the man she swore she’d never trust…and this time, there’s no denying just how hot he makes her burn.

Buy Links:

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




GIVEAWAY

Rafflecopter giveaway


What I Love about Rodeo

There are so many things I love about rodeo that I could—and have—filled several books (aka the Texas Rodeo series). A million tiny details like the scent of wood shavings in a horse stall, the indescribable joy of a perfectly thrown loop, or the way a belt and buckle sets off a nice pair of hips. Lately, though, I’ve come to appreciate a facet of rodeo and life on the ranch that I’ve always taken for granted: rodeo makes women stronger.

Unlike other parts of our society, in rodeo and ranching, strength is a highly prized trait in a woman—both physical and mental. From the time we are old enough to be hoisted onto a pony to trot around the arena, we are praised for being ambitious, competitive, aggressive and independent. We are valued as much for what our bodies can accomplish as we are for our appearance. I might’ve started out by catching my husband’s eye, but I captured his heart the first time he saw me sort cows.

The smart, capable, take-no-crap women of the Texas Rodeo books are products of my environment, and none more so than Melanie Brookman of Fearless in Texas. May every reader who ventures into our world steal a page from her book and leave with a little more cowgirl in their blood—and their attitude.




EXCERPT

Wyatt braced a hand on the front door of the Bull Dancer Saloon, blocking Melanie. “You can’t go back in there.”

She looked at his arm as if debating whether she should bite it or snap it in half. “You think you can stop me?”

“Yes.” He jerked a thumb toward the door and quoted the flyspecked sign posted inside. “I am the proprietor, and we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”

Hell. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but the sparks that were flying off of her were burying themselves under his skin, kindling fires that threatened to reduce all of his good intentions to ashes. Her mouth dropped open, and he braced himself for some truly spectacular swearing. Instead, she snapped it shut, whirled around, and strode away, her shiny red heels clicking angrily on the empty street.

“Melanie…wait! Could we just talk—”

Her answer was a stiff middle finger shot straight in the air. He took a couple of steps in pursuit, but his ankle made it clear that anything above a sedate stroll was a bad idea, not that he was sure what he’d do if he caught her. Attempting to stop her when she was like this would be like tackling a mountain lion, but if she intended to go to one of the other bars, she was headed the wrong direction.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bridge. It’ll have to do, since I assume you’ll follow me and there’s not a cliff handy.”

He’d already taken several more steps, but he stopped. “The rail is too high.”

“Then I’ll knock you over the head with a rock and roll you off the dike.”

She wouldn’t. Would she? “If you’re going to commit assault and attempted murder, you’ll need your keys to make your getaway.”

She stopped dead and spun around. He held up the keys in one hand and the purse in the other.

She swore and started back toward him. “Don’t think I won’t kick you square in the nuts and stomp on your fingers when you fall.”

“Not a doubt in my mind.” He unlocked the door that led up to her apartment, yanked it open, and threw both the keys and the purse to the top of the stairs before she could reach him. Then he stepped back, feet braced, ready to dodge or deflect any blow aimed at his groin. If Melanie had said it, she was seriously considering it.

She went for the door instead, but paused with her hand on the knob. “If I go in after them, you won’t let me out.”

“Nope.” Although it would take all his strength to hold the door shut if she was determined to push it open, and there was the fire escape…

Her hand dropped, and she turned on him. If it were possible for a stare to be literally cutting, his guts would’ve fallen out onto the street. “What…the hell…is your problem?”

“You.” He gestured toward her painted face, her dress, those damn red shoes. “I know what all of that means, but you’re wrong. And if you would just let me explain—”

“Yes!” She threw her hands in the air like a Baptist preacher. “Please, oh wise and knowing male, tell me how I’m supposed to feel. Better yet, explain why it is that you could leave this place with any of those women you’ve never met before and you get high fives, but if I do the same, I’m an embarrassment to your shitty little bar.”

Despite his vow to remain calm, his temper began to stir. “I did not say—”

“You don’t have to. I grew up in the goddamn Bible Belt. I’ve heard it all my life.” The bitterness in her voice ran generations deep. “Well, sorry, but not sorry. I’m done trying to please anyone but myself. I’ll sleep with who I want, when I want, and y’all can just deal with it.”

Not likely. Wyatt’s anger boiled up, shooting past the red line and straight into fury. Yes, her rage was justified, but she did not get to lump him in with bastards like Michael and her former boss. All he’d ever wanted, from damn near the first moment they’d spoken on the phone, was Melanie, but it was as if the entire universe had conspired against him, and he was so damn tired of fighting this bone-deep need…

He took a step toward her. Then another. She didn’t budge, but her eyes flicked toward the apartment door as if reconsidering her choices.

He leaned in close, his breath fanning her cheek, his voice low and lethal even to his own ears. “Is that what you want? Just someone with a pulse you can use up and toss out when you’re done?”

He heard her swallow, but she didn’t flinch. “Why shouldn’t I? Men have been doing it forever.”

“Yes, we have.”

He gathered a fistful of her hair and wound the warm silk around and around his hand until his knuckles were pressed to the nape of her neck. Her breath caught at the electric press of skin against skin, and her eyes went even darker. The line he’d held for so long had been crossed. He was beyond stopping—unless she made him.

“As long as you’re determined to do something you’ll hate yourself for in the morning, it might as well be with me.” And then he kissed her.

And instead of shoving him away, Melanie clenched both hands in his shirt and yanked him closer.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR 10904548_329608287246855_122230511325396069_o

KARI 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



 

SPOTLIGHT TOUR ~ Every Deep Desire (Deadly Force #1) by Sharon Wray

Title: Every Deep Desire
Series: Deadly Force #1
Author: Sharon Wray

Pub Date: March 6, 2018

 

He’s taking it all back
His honor, his freedom, and the woman he loves

Rafe Montfort was a decorated Green Beret, the best of the best, until a disastrous mission and an unforgivable betrayal destroyed his life. Now, this deadly soldier has returned to the sultry Georgia swamps to reunite with his brothers, and take back all he lost. But Juliet must never know the truth behind what he’s done…or the dangerous secret that threatens to take him from her forever.

It took Juliet Capel eight long years to put her life back together after her husband was taken from her. Now Rafe is back, determined to protect her at any cost, and it’s not just her heart that’s in danger. The swamps hold a secret long buried and far deadlier than either of them could have imagined…

Buy Links:

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


GIVEAWAY

3 copies of Every Deep Desire

Rafflecopter giveaway


Dear Readers,

As an author, I both love and fear release days. I’m thrilled that the book I’ve spent years on is entering the world, ready to find readers. Yet terrified because the fictional world I’ve spent so much time in—dreaming about, thinking of, planning for—is no longer my own.

The story and everything in it, especially the characters, now belong to you. All the feels you experience, whether I intended them or not, will be filtered through your own life’s events. Your memories, your dreams, your joys, and losses will determine what you take away from the story. And that’s the way it should be.

Yet, while reader reactions are completely out of my control, it’s also scary. Especially when one makes changes to the genre. Every Deep Desire, and the other books in the Deadly Force series, are all romantic suspense stories—yet they’re also different. And we all know how the world feels about change.

The Deadly Force series is about a group of ex-Green Berets, under the command of Colonel Kells Torridan, who were charged with a crime they didn’t commit and dishonorably discharged despite their innocence. Some of the men from the unit are in prison, but the men in the series, including Kells, are living in Savannah, GA, managing Iron Rack’s, a run-down, pirate-themed gym in a not-so-nice part of town, and working as bouncers at a goth strip club. They’re hiding in plain sight, teaching Krav Maga classes, tossing drunks, desperate to find any information that can lead them to who destroyed their lives, and why.

But these books aren’t just about the men and their weapons. They are also romances. To be more specific, each love story is a retelling of one of Shakespeare’s greatest love stories. Just add in sexy, down-and-out Green Berets, dangerous arms dealers, and strong heroines who teach these alpha males that Grace always defeats Reckoning. <grin>

Every Deep Desire, a contemporary retelling of Romeo and Juliet and first in the Deadly Force series, is about Rafe Montfort and Juliet Capel. Rafe, a man in Kells’s unit, left his men and his wife to join the Prince and his Fianna army only to end up in prison. Now, eight years later, Rafe finds himself released without explanation. His only clue is a note telling him to return to the remote sea island off the coast of Savannah where he and Juliet grew up. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that his wife Juliet, the woman he’s adored his entire life, is in danger.

Juliet, a landscape architect, has struggled for eight years to recover from Rafe’s abandonment and disappearance. Their early marriage had been a disaster both their families had warned them about, but they’d been too young and too in love to understand. Now she’s determined to live her life on her own terms without help from anyone. And the last thing she needs is her ex-husband returning home with vague warnings of danger.

But when vague warnings become real threats, Rafe and Juliet realize that both of their enemies, the Prince and Remiel Marigny, know a 17th century secret about the Isle where they both grew up, a secret both of their families have kept for hundreds of years. Now, in order to figure out why an army of assassins, a brutal gun runner, and a team of ex-Green Berets are interested in Juliet’s ancestor—a Puritan woman accused of witchcraft—Rafe and Juliet must face their past together.

Now they’re running out of time. And not only is Juliet’s heart and Rafe’s freedom in jeopardy, the secret they uncover is far deadlier than anyone could’ve realized.

I hope you all enjoy this first book in the Deadly Forces series. It’s a world where sexy, smart heroines must teach these ex-Green Berets bent on redemption that physical strength and combat experience isn’t always enough to win. Sometimes a person’s greatest weapon—true courage—comes from seeking forgiveness and accepting love.



EXCERPT

Juliet’s house had disappeared.
Rafe Montfort scrubbed a hand over his face. A strangling ache invaded his chest, filling the empty space that once held his heart. He shifted the Army duffel he’d shouldered for the past six miles, moving the burn from one arm to the other. Why had he assumed her father’s trailer would still be standing? That she’d be living there? Waiting for him?
Because he wasn’t only a bastard who made assumptions. He was a fool who once believed the Prince’s brutal goals justified Rafe’s ruthless actions.
Or, as Escalus used to say, “a fool whose violent delights have violent ends.”
Summer cicadas hummed in the Isle of Grace’s surrounding woods, their mournful drone filling Rafe’s head with rhythmic disapproval. Sweat soaked his T-shirt, pooling low in his back above his waistband. Where he used to keep his gun.
He wasn’t just a bastard. He wasn’t just a fool. He just wasn’t the man he’d once hoped to become. With a nod to his broken past, he left the overgrown property and headed home.
Keep it moving, Montfort. That’s right. One boot in front of the other.
He kicked an empty beer bottle into a ditch, shattering the brown glass, and marched toward Pops’s trailer tucked between the towering Georgia pines a half mile down the Isle’s dirt road. He’d given up his honor, his wife, his men. Thank God his mother had died before he betrayed everyone he loved. In the years he’d been away, he hadn’t just cut out his heart; he’d sold his soul.
Despite the breeze, questions about Juliet’s departure burned his blood.
Why had she left? He climbed the pine steps to the deck alongside the double-wide.
Where’d she go? He jumped the last two steps to avoid the missing planks.
Did she ever think of him? The Capels had arrived on the Isle long before the American Revolution. It’d never occurred to him that her family would leave. For eight long years, he’d been counting on that.
His duffel landed with a thud next to an outboard motor and buckets of fishing gear. He rubbed the knotted muscles in his shoulder and faced the broken screen door. His vision faded until all he could see was the blurry mesh.
What the hell was he doing? Why had he even come home? Because he’d had no choice. Everything depended on him remembering that. With renewed determination, he raised his fist and hit the metal door.
No answer. He closed his eyes, took another breath, and knocked again.
Juliet’s family was gone. Had his left as well?
He heard a banging around back, pulled out his leather jacket, and covered the tattoos on his arms. He’d rather die of heat stroke than start an argument. Then he jumped over the deck rail. His combat boots made it easier to walk through the tall weeds to the red barn a hundred yards behind the trailer. Three times larger than the home, the barn and surrounding yard held remnants of every American classic car ever made.
Everything stood as if he’d never left, except for the cell boost antenna on the barn’s roof. From the height and distance, it probably provided a cell signal the width and depth of Pops’s property. Pops had joined the twenty-first century? Maybe miracles were possible.
He drew closer and saw his daddy’s gray head bobbing up and down beneath the hood of a black 1958 Chevy Impala. He stopped on the other side of the car and exhaled until his lungs ached. “Pops?”
His dad raised his head, his eyes squinting. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Rafe.”
A man, shorter than he remembered, stood. In a stained red T-shirt and overalls with one strap hanging down, his father waited a few moments before nodding. At least he wasn’t holding a beer. Or his shotgun.
Rafe waved at the car. “She’s a real beauty. She yours?”
“No.” Pops wiped his dirty hands on an oily rag, and Rafe focused on the remaining finger on his father’s right hand. He’d given the other four to the Marines. “She belongs to your brother.”
“Good for him.”
Pops tossed the rag onto the engine and gripped the side of the Chevy’s frame. His hard stare took in Rafe’s leather jacket in what had to be triple-digit heat. “What you doin’ here, boy?”
He held out his hand. A hug would only be an invitation to an ass-kicking. “The Army released me from prison.”
“Released?” His father picked up a dirty wrench, his face brown beneath a haircut the Corps would salute. “What the hell for? Good behavior?”
“No, sir.” He dropped his hand. If disapproval were a color, it would be the dark, muddy brown in his father’s grim gaze. “I don’t know why.”
Since he’d spent two years in a Russian jail and then the last nine months locked in isolation in Leavenworth, he wasn’t sure what to think. “I was told to return to Savannah and wait for a call.”
While it went against every one of his hard-earned instincts urging him to run, he’d come home to find out what the hell was going on. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anyplace else to go.
“You still a sergeant?”
A sharp ache hit Rafe’s back molars, and he eased off the teeth grinding. On his left, he noticed a band of magnolia trees surrounding a white glory cross. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and forced himself to meet his father’s reproach. “I don’t know what I am.” Sergeant? Prisoner 061486? The Prince’s warrior? Hell if he knew.
“I know what you are,” Pops said. “Damn traitor. Not to mention adulterer, liar, thief.”
Rafe’s exhale sounded more like a hiss. While he wasn’t all of those things, he’d done other things—worse things. “I was also dishonorably discharged.”


About the Author


Sharon Wray
is a librarian/archivist who studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and now writes stories of adventure, suspense, and love. She’s a three-time Daphne du Maurier® winner and an eight-time RWA Golden Heart® Finalist. She lives with her super-hero husband and teenage twins in Northern Virginia.

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram



 

EXCERPT TOUR ~ Playing The Pauses (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll #2) by Michelle Hazen

 

 

We are excited to celebrate the release of PLAYING THE PAUSES by Michelle Hazen.
This is the
second installment in her Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll series.
Follow the tour for reviews, excerpts, guest posts, plus enter to win a
$50 Amazon gift card!

 

“Hazen’s use of the frantic energy of a rock band’s tour contrasts perfectly with the slow and seductive dance this couple engages in. Readers are sure to enjoy following The Red Letters on their drama-fueled climb to fame. “ —RT Book Reviews

“To call Playing the Pauses an erotic novel alone would be to belie its equally strong explorations of the boundaries between personal, career, and sexual growth.” —Midwest Book Review

 

When an ultra-independent tour manager meets the one musician she can’t resist, their kinks fit together perfectly, but their lives don’t. Michelle Hazen is back with PLAYING THE PAUSES, the second, stand-alone installment in her Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll series. Fans of Kylie Scott’s Stage Dive Series and YOU REALLY GOT ME by Erika Kelly, will love this bad boy, friends with benefits romance with a dash of BDSM mixed in.

Title:  Playing the Pauses
Series: Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll #2
Author: Michelle Hazen

 

Release Date: March 5, 2018
Publisher: Self-published
Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis:

 

Rock Star Dom + his Queen of the Spreadsheet employee = KRYPTONITE

Kate is a globe-trotting tour manager who can’t be tied down.

Danny is a Dominant rock star and tattoo artist who needs her help to explore his true kinks.

Kate just got her big break, running an international tour for a rising band. Her job is everything to her…at least until she meets the band’s enigmatic bass player.

After they collide in one unforgettably erotic night on a hotel balcony, he comes to her with a proposition. As a former BDSM club performer, Danny’s spent so long fulfilling other people’s fantasies that now he wants to reclaim his own—and he says she’s the only one who can help.

Getting caught in bed with her rock star boss could cost her career, and yet there’s something about Danny’s quiet intensity that she can’t resist. He steals her heart, hard. But the end of the tour is approaching, and their jobs are headed two different directions.

To be together one of them will have to stop touring, but the only thing they crave as much as each other is music.

** This book can be read and understood as a standalone, but does contain spoilers for earlier books in the series. **

 

Goodreads

Buy Now:
Amazon | iBooks | B&N | Kobo



Playlist for Playing the Pauses

 

 

YouTube Playlist so you can listen along: 

 

So many of the songs that remind me of Danny are Rage Against the Machine. He has a very quiet soul, but likes very loud music, but that band isn’t a great match for the energy of most of the book.

I’m going to go through and suggest a song for each chapter, to match the mood and often to match the lyrics to what’s going on. It’s free of all but the most harmless spoilers and will be fun to read before you’ve read the book, and even more fun to go back to (and listen to!) as you’re reading the book itself once you can understand all the little inside jokes and references.

 

Ch 1 Let the Games Begin: “Off the Ground” by The Record Company. This has just the right energy for Kate’s confident stride into Danny’s life, plus a super-memorable bass line that seems like something Danny might play. The Record Company is one of the bands I saw live (In Danny’s home of Portland, Oregon!) as part of my research for this series. I feel like Danny’s BFF, Jera, would really approve of this band’s barefoot drummer.

Ch 2 With the Band: “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” by Cake. This is Kate’s theme song, as we get to see her swoop in and swiftly reorganize the band’s whole tour with the hand of a master, and enough energy left over to hit the mosh pit on opening night.

Ch 3 Raw: “Never Let Me Go” by Florence and the Machine. Because this chapter feels utterly inevitable, which is perfectly captured by the swell of the vocalist’s voice in this song. It also feels like it’s being sung into an unlimited expanse of air; just right for a scene taking place on a balcony high above a city.

Ch 4 Unconditional: “Same Love” by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis (featuring Mary Lambert) because we all need a friend who will love us even once they know all our most personal secrets.

Ch 5 Communication: “Sail” by AWOLnation

Ch 6 Good: “When the Sun Rises” by Stop Light Observations. Life on a tour bus, baby… This song has all that energy.

Ch 7 You: “Where I Stood” by Missy Higgins, for the lyrics. Then:

“Bloodstream” by Stateless. Dark and addictive and romantic as all get out.

Ch 8 Close Calls: “Trouble” by Pink. Then “Under the Bridge” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, because it is referenced in the scene.

Ch 9 Switch: “One Time” by Marian Hill. Kate at her most sensually powerful.

Ch 10 Mercy: “Closer” by NIN. This is my favorite Danny song because it’s filthy and unapologetically sexual, just like him.

Ch 11 To Sleep, Perchance to Dream: Two scenes here.

First scene: “Long Line of Cars” by Cake. Two words, people: Porn. Pinata.

Second scene: “Slow it Down” by The Lumineers- Because it’s dreamy and sweet, and for the line “Rest your arms. Rest your legs.”

“Passing Afternoon” by Iron and Wine- this is the song Kate references in the chapter.

I think you’ll have noticed by now that this playlist zips from immersive rock to fun and flirty, to heart-wrenchingly romantic. RT Book Reviews, I think, explained this better than I could when they said: “Hazen’s use of the frantic energy of a rock band’s tour contrasts perfectly with the slow and seductive dance this couple engages in.”

Ch 12 Crossing Lines: “When I’m Small” by Phantogram. This is the bass-forward song I always hear in my head during the concert at the start of this scene.

Ch 13 Playing: “Yellow Ledbetter” Pearl Jam. Slow and private and sweet.

Ch 14 Girl Talk: “Hold On” by the Alabama Shakes

Ch 15 It’s a Sign: “Bartholomew” by The Silent Comedy

Ch 16 Stay: “Stay” by Megan Nicole.

Ch 17 The Best Part of Waking Up: “Oblivion” by Bastille

Ch 18 Meet the Parents: “Put the Gun Down” by ZZ Ward

Ch 19 Draw Me A Picture: “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors (Another band I saw while researching this series. I was so short I couldn’t see anything over the crowd. I could hear that they had a drummer but was never able to visually verify this to be fact)

Ch 20 The Ring: Ooh, this is an eclectic chapter. First: “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran

Second: “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” by Cake

Ch 21 3 AM in Munich: “Gold to Glass” by the Revivalists. What, you didn’t think I was going to make it through a whole playlist without a Revivalists’ song, did you? Pshaw. I saw them for the first time during 2016 Mardi Gras week as research for this book, and I went from that to driving everywhere and sleeping in my car to see six shows in one year, in 4 different states over 2300 miles apart. Yes, they’re that good.

Ch 22 Your Answer: “Love is a B*tch” by Two Feet. This fits the sexy, deliberate feel of the scene, and it sounds like something The Red Letters (Danny’s band) would play. I can just picture Jax whispering into the microphone, and Danny in the background, driving the whole song with his bass.

Ch 23 Happy Birthday: For this one, I absolutely have to link to YouTube. Danny plays a no-singing version of Happy Birthday on his bass in this chapter, which sounds so gravitational you have to hear it for yourself.

Ch 24 My So-Called Home: “All I Want” by Kodaline

Ch 25 For Better or Worse: “The Light of Day” Silent Comedy. This is the song you should start playing the first moment Kate and Danny are alone.

Ch 26 Playing the Pauses: “Far Away” by Nickelback. And yes, fair game to make fun of me for including a Nickelback song in my playlist. It’s still the perfect song for this moment.




GIVEAWAY

Enter to win a $50 Amazon Gift Card + A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL eBooks!

 Rafflecopter giveaway


About Michelle Hazen:

 

Michelle Hazen is a nomad with a writing problem. Years ago, she and her husband ducked out of the 9 to 5 world and moved into their truck. As a result, she wrote most of her books with solar power in odd places, including a bus in Thailand, a golf cart in a sandstorm, and a beach in Honduras. Currently, she’s addicted to The Walking Dead, hiking, and Tillamook cheese.

Follow Author:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Pinterest | Instagram



 

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


 

 

JOIN THE MAILING LIST to stay up-to-date with free books, giveaways, and new releases!

New Releases MAILING LIST: http://eepurl.com/AcDbj

My Recommended Reading Order: http://kenyawrightbooks.com/recommend

You can FOLLOW me Here on Amazon and you will be notified of new releases, or subscribe to my new release mailing list. http://eepurl.com/AcDbj

http://kenyawrightbooks.com/

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.

 

Social Media Links

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/KenyaWrightAuthor/

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5402447.Kenya_Wright

Twitter – @KenyaWrightBook

Website – http://kenyawrightbooks.com/

Instagram – @kenya_patra

Mailing List – http://eepurl.com/AcDbj


  

Rafflecopter giveaway




 

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

Website:

Amazon

B & N

Kobo

Apple

Google


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

 

Get the Print Book

 

Audio Version


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
10346621_246084782249781_2764953186025781190_n

 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.


GIVEAWAY

Rafflecopter giveaway


 

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:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Books-A-Million | Indiebound | iTunes | Kobo | Chapters


Giveaway

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

 Rafflecopter giveaway



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

 

 

AP new - buy the book.jpg

 

AP new - synopsis.jpg

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! 😊




AP new -about the author.jpg
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
ArdentProse_LogoMain.jpg


 

N.M. Catalano Writer/Author

Adult Content, 18+ Only

Lisa * My Everyday Life

Life Itself is the proper binge. Julia Child

Exile on Peachtree Street

Hunter S. Jones. Author. Atlanta

Ophelia's

Speaking Out on the Unspeakable

Get Weekly Erotic Tales

Erotica, Writing About Writing Sex, and Much More!

BE MY BOOK BOYFRIEND

Fictional characters non-fictional feelings

...Burns Through Her Bookshelf

Voracious reader, book lover, spastic blogger, audiologist. These things are some of me, but not the sum of me.

DPAPA's Living A Flip Flop Life

Living a flip flop life!

Pink Ink

Ten authors, four countries, one blog.

After Dark Book Lovers

END YOUR DAY WITH A GOOD BOOK

Book Loving Pixies

We live to read ~ we love to read!!!!

Love Words & Books Blog

Keep Reading, Keep Dreaming...

Rusty's Reading

A place to spotlight books and authors

Rumpled Sheets Blog

#Rumpled_Sheets

Storytime with John

Pull up and listen...I've got a funny one for ya...

jessielanebooks.wordpress.com/

Best-Selling Romance Author

So, I Read This Book Today

Editing, Proofreading, Reviewing and Other Stuff

theinnerwildkat

Passions For Books, Writing and Music-however it manifests itself

Mallery Malone

Romance with a little heat

justanotherbookbitch.wordpress.com/

JUST ANOTHER BOOK BITCH FREEBIES, DEALS, REVIEWS, & PROMOTIONS

ALL THINGS ROMANCE

LYNN A REYNOLDS. This site is for those readers 18 years old +.

Living with Cats

Just another WordPress.com weblog

%d bloggers like this: