Thursday, March 31, 2022

#ReleaseBlitz...Venerably Daray...#MM #UF #PNR

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Venerably Daray (D’Vaire, Book 28)

Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: March 31, 2022

Genres: MM Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance

Trope: Fated mates

Themes: Love

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 95 441 words

It is book 28 in the D’Vaire series and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads Series Link

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK

Even with Fate’s blessing, there are no guarantees in life or love.

Blurb

Skeleton Lord Brynnius Daray is happiest when he’s wielding his daggers or elbow deep in flour, baking some wondrous treat. As an elite assassin, Brynnius spends his days protecting the Council of Sorcery and Shifters, and his evenings are for family. The Darays are lively and dedicated, and Brynnius loves them fiercely. However, at night he is alone, and Brynnius yearns for his mate.

Having been recently resurrected, Samson is desperate to prove his worth as a fallen knight. The trouble is, Samson is part of a ground-breaking experiment—and the new spell is flawed. Or perhaps it is the man himself that has issues. While Samson struggles to understand his purpose, he learns that Brynnius is the other half of his soul.

Although Fate has brought them together, neither man is sure what the future holds. To figure it out, they must confront the past and reconcile their present. Just when Samson and Brynnius finally find common ground, the world intrudes. Nothing will ever be the same for the Darays.

Brynnius loved his job, and he had a wonderful family and a beautiful home, which he shared with the rest of the Darays. When he wasn’t fighting crime or combing through Council bills to aid Alaric in voting appropriately, Brynnius was baking. If there was a recipe for something sweet or delicious, the sentinel wanted to hunt for the ingredients.

Around him, the Darays and his larger extended family, known as D’Vaire, praised his baked treats, which gave Brynnius the confidence to continue to make them yummy things. It was fun to travel around the world to grab things unavailable within the Council, and Brynnius liked surprising everyone with novel treats. 

Brynnius was pondering whether to make the blackcurrant tarts he’d recently found a recipe for when he pulled open the door to the resurrection room inside the shared training center that belonged to the fallen knights and sentinels.

The moment Brynnius crossed the threshold, his entire body went haywire. As a sentinel, Brynnius lacked sexuality, and had no concept of outer beauty, so his dick growing hard stunned him. It was a sensation foreign to Brynnius, yet it wasn’t unpleasant. 

His mind was overloaded with the terrific smell—a mixture of vanilla cupcakes and cinnamon coffeecake. At the end of the hall, Brynnius spied Venerable Knight Arvandus Ruarc-Daray—a member of his family and the only man to be permanently resurrected twice.

Next to Arvandus was a stranger with a head full of glossy, gorgeous black curls. He was built on a massive scale. As they moved closer, Brynnius wondered if the stranger’s shoulders were even broader than his own. Although he wanted to get closer to the stranger, there was too much chaos in Brynnius’s mind for him to move. The man at Arvandus’s side was Brynnius’s mate, and Brynnius had no idea what to do. 

A beautiful smile crossed the man’s face, and there was a confused curiosity in his gaze. Since the man was freshly resurrected, Brynnius doubted he understood their connection or felt the same clamoring inside himself. 

“Fallen Knight, Rank One Samson, this is Skeleton Lord Brynnius Daray,” Arvandus said with a flash of his oft-used grin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Skeleton Lord. I apologize that I don’t have a last name yet to give you. The Arch Lich wishes to honor my dragon and needs to speak to the Emperors in order to decide how best to do that.”

“The pleasure is mine, Samson,” Brynnius remarked softly and offered him a nod. 

Sentinels did not touch strangers, though Brynnius readily admitted to himself that he wanted to be close to Samson. It would have to wait. The fallen knight was unsteady on his feet, so Brynnius didn’t want to keep him in the hall, despite his innate desire to know everything about him and not leave his side. 

“Are you on the way to your room?” Brynnius asked.

“Yes, VK Arvandus told me to pick the one closest to the cafeteria.”

That was no surprise to Brynnius; he was aware Arvandus always offered that favored space to the first recruit. Flustered, Brynnius was unsure if he’d remembered to offer Samson a traditional sentinel nod in greeting, so he bobbed his head. 

“Good choice. Good luck with your training,” he said.

“Thank you, Skeleton Lord.”

“See ya later, Brynn,” Arvandus remarked. 

They turned the corner toward the dormitories, and Brynnius smiled at Samson, who turned back twice. The fallen knight might not understand their connection yet, but Brynnius was bolstered by his interest. It’d help him get through the next eight weeks, since Brynnius couldn’t be with Samson until he graduated. 

Brynnius was determined to allow Samson to train without distractions as Reverent Knight Drystan had allowed his mate to do when he was resurrected. But unlike Drystan, Brynnius intended to tell no one about his encounter with Samson. The last thing Brynnius wanted to do was keep his family on pins and needles with excitement over the next two months. 

After Samson was discharged from the Ascension Center, Brynnius would finally be able to talk to him again, and they’d be able to start their journey as mates. Until then, Brynnius planned on reflecting often on the extraordinarily handsome man with the unique eyes, and preparing for their future.

About the Author . . .

Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.

Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.

Visit her website 

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn's Ruffian's

Social Media Links

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

#BookTour...Mile High Lab Rat...#Mystery #Giveaway

Mile High Lab Rat

by Ann Payton

Genre: Mystery

A page-turning mystery that will strike a chord with anyone who's coped with a toxic workplace, Mile High Lab Rat is also fun, thought-provoking, and authentic!

Coordinating a college science lab seems a terrific job for this fledgling graduate.

The instructors are fun and appreciative. Maci loves helping with field trips and magic shows, and the intrigues of science are endlessly fascinating.

Except, why all the secrets? The dean orders Maci to say nothing about finding a bleeding man in the parking lot.

Reporting missing lab equipment is also taboo!

When Maci investigates fraudulent expenditures the lab reagents she prepares fail. Toxic fumes from a broken bottle force an evacuation.

To make matters worse, someone uploads a devastating virus into a state-wide system—from Maci’s computer!

While she’s pushing to discover who’s behind the trouble, the instructors conclude that it’s Maci!

Her one loyal ally acts a lot like a stalker. She’s on her own dodging booby traps, bloody threats, and termination.

**On Sale for Only .99 cents!**

Giveaway * Amazon

Sometime in the 90s I decided I needed a dream to pursue between working and raising three children. As the science lab coordinator for a Colorado community college, I enjoyed helping revise lab manuals, so why not become a travel writer? I managed to learn enough to sell freelance articles to a few major publications. Then I wrote a travel adventure novel, which led me into giving lectures on cruise ships and writing another novel. Can't wait to see where that dream's going to take me next.

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$10 Amazon giftcard – 1 winner,

Science Themed Book Thong – 5 winners!

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Brought to You By:

#NewReleaseBlitz...Queen of Shadows...#ActionAndAdventure #CleanAndWholeseome #Fantasy #Fairytales #Romance #Adult #Giveaway

Queen of Shadows by Erin Dulin & Britt Cooper

Word Count: 85,689
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 334

GENRES:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
CLEAN AND WHOLESOME
FANTASY
FANTASY AND FAIRYTALES
ROMANCE
YOUNG ADULT

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Book Description

Why be a princess when you can rule the shadows?

Rejecting the senseless demands of her wicked stepmother, Ella of Locksley shares her family’s abundance with the people of her land. Yet, the desperation of her community has only begun.

When the nation of Llundyn is brutally attacked, Princes Ric and Johan begin to fight for their right to rule, leaving the kingdom’s very heart to hang in the balance as subversive forces emerge. Taxation drives the citizenry toward hopelessness, with the absence of leadership taking its toll.

Striking out on her own, Ella takes up the nation’s cause, making a name for herself as the infamous Hood, and leads her cunning crew, stealing from the rich to provide for the poor. But the return of the rightful heir, along with a forbidden romance, changes everything—with artifice and betrayal leading to an unlikely alliance that unites prince and thieves.

The passion and true love of a king leave Ella torn between duty and loyalty when, at the stroke of midnight, her identity is exposed. She’ll face the ultimate choice—enduring as the Hood or sacrificing it all for the ones she loves.

Reader advisory: This book contains some scenes of violence, a maiming and a death.

Excerpt

Fitful cries from the Carvers’ infant son pierced the silence, cleaving away Ella’s remaining shreds of calm. Trekking through the village was a dubious task on the most temperate of evenings. Doing so in the biting gales of waning wintertide was sheer idiocy, but she had little choice.

Ella tugged the hood of her cloak, attempting to keep it in place atop her head. The wind swirling around her had other ideas, whipping her mantle with vicious ferocity and nearly knocking her onto her backside as she crouched beneath a narrow window. She gripped the rotting sill, cursing under her breath before digging her heels into the frozen earth.

“Be grateful.” Much met her gaze, his eyes alight with suppressed mirth as he observed her predicament. “The weather should provide us a little more time.”

It was true. Ella glanced skyward, where the silvery haze lingering above conveniently veiled the moonlight. “Would that it could also grant us more provisions to share,” she whispered as Much tossed a small bag of grain in her direction. She wedged it neatly between the pile of cordwood and the decaying shingles sheathing the exterior, the burlap sack catching on the splintered timbers of the ramshackle cottage. “Another?” She held out a gloved palm expectantly.

“We cannot spare it.” Much’s words were but a breath, born both of necessity as well as grief. “If we double their portion, we’ll leave another family with nothing.”

Ella rose, making her way toward Much with a muted stride. “I filched an extra sack of grain from the lovely Lady Margaret before we set out.” She loosed the pouch from her horse, Monroe, with nimble fingers. “The Carvers will put it to far better use. They have five children now, you know.”

“Indeed.” Much folded his arms across his chest for warmth. “But Lady Margaret is apt to skin you alive if she catches you.”

“Tosh.” Ella waved his concern away with a dramatic sweep of her hand. “My stepmother would never sully herself over the likes of me. Doubtless, she’ll task you with that burden in her stead.” She grinned, waggling her eyebrows in amusement.

Much groaned. “You are as delightfully morbid as ever.”

Ella ignored him as she scurried toward the shanty for a second time, pairing the modest sack of grain with its twin nestled beside the kindling. The bags were always well hidden from passersby so as not to be stolen but quickly found by the tenants seeking firewood for their hearth. “It shouldn’t make any difference,” she groused, mounting her horse as Much followed suit. “It all belongs to me.”

“Ah, if only, Lady Locksley. It shall be yet another two years, for until the age of—”

“Twenty, I know. I know.” Ella sighed. It was an inconvenient fact she wished desperately to change. Thus far, her finest efforts in evading the ill-conceived lineal law of Llundyn included skulking through her hamlet in the wee hours before dawn, distributing food from her manor.

In the simplest of terms, she was stealing from herself, though with great care so as not to be discovered by her insufferable stepmother—the rightful heir of her lands and fortunes until she was finally of age.

Ella was discreet in her thieving endeavors, pinching items that would not be missed. It didn’t hurt that Cooke willingly turned a blind eye. And, as luck would have it, Lady Margaret wasn’t much for kitchen duty. It was a task she viewed as too menial for a woman of her stratum, even if she had only managed to achieve her status via a wholly undeserved union with Ella’s father.

Heavens, how she missed him, God rest his soul.

“Where’s the good in my title if I’m unable to use my station? I’m a member of the gentry with no more authority than that of an entitled rat.” Ella urged her mount toward their next destination, gritting her teeth against the brisk air as her horse picked up speed. Plucking an arrow from the quiver on her shoulder, she turned, aiming at the weather-worn door behind her, her drawn bow taut. Her bolt found its mark, despite Monroe’s bounding gait, announcing the presence of a delivery—the handmade arrow a telltale sign of her brief visit.

Much scoffed. “Nonsense. A rat would never share the spoils of its domain as you have. Neither would it have your impeccable aim.”

Ella glanced at Much, expecting to see him smiling as he often did when he teased her, but his handsome face was surprisingly austere.

No. There was no humor to be found in these circumstances.

Two years of poor, drought-riddled harvests had taken their toll on the kingdom of Llundyn. The dearth of crops had failed to significantly affect the nobility, of course, with many a lord and lady inclined to take advantage of the bountiful imports from neighboring realms. But the paltry yield was nothing short of devastating for the commoners who had little coin to spare. Many had begun to exhibit its brutality outwardly, the sharp planes of their faces and bone-thin frames a startling illustration of the land’s insufficiency.

Yet wealth poured into Locksley in the form of generous taxes, collected by Lady Margaret from the tenants surrounding the estate. As residents of the Locksley lands, they paid their due and worked the countryside in addition to their regular employment in the borough of Coventry, some five miles south of the manor.

Shame grieved Ella’s conscience as she observed the growing disparity, convicting her of something far worse than her newly established hobby of larceny.

Abundance.

Attempting to shed her sense of guilt was worthless. It merely required action. Thievery paled in comparison to the atrocity of starvation and poverty. And, as far as Ella was concerned, it wasn’t truly theft if she were merely pilfering from herself.

Much’s eagerness to be complicit in her scheming had been all the sanction she’d needed. She’d considered him the more reasonable of the two of them for as long as she’d known him. If he could rationalize the madness in her subterfuge…well, then perhaps it wasn’t madness at all.

As an orphan of some four years now, Much was far from his natural element. His father had been a man of the sea, captain of the king’s navy, his young son serving as a boatswain under his command and following in his footsteps. But his untimely demise had left his widow and son at the beneficence of the kingdom.

Ella’s father, Robin, had taken them on, providing steady work until fever had suddenly taken him away, with Much’s mother following quickly behind. The staggering loss had left Much and Ella reeling, grappling for some fragment of hope, an element of security—qualities that they’d had the great fortune of discovering in one another, bonding them at once in heartache as well as mercy.

Then, in a startling turn of events, tragedy had taken a turn for the positive. Lady Margaret had deigned to agree with Ella, who’d insisted that Much be permitted to continue his employment assisting the manor’s only carpenter. Whether due to genuine benevolence on her stepmother’s part or some peculiar sense of duty, Ella was never certain. Still, it was a small victory that she and Much readily welcomed.

“Blast this wretched wind,” Much grumbled, his complaint a swell of haze in the frigid air. “Remind me to wear several more layers of clothing for our next outing.”

“And you dare to deem me the foul-mouthed one between us?” Ella demanded, bringing about a reluctant smile from her surly partner in crime. “Perhaps you should reconsider.”

“Your words are well received, milady.” He raised his brows in satisfaction, well aware that his use of the highborn term was profane to Ella’s sensibilities. While he knew his place in Llundynien society, Ella had never treated him as lesser than an equal and always took his ribbing in good humor.

“Well, you’re a fiend, James Much. Cease your peevishness at once so we may complete the task at hand,” Ella intoned in a haughty impersonation of Lady Margaret, giggling with pleasure as his features crumpled in annoyance.

“Oh, but you do that too well, my friend.” Much laughed, shoving her playfully in the shoulder. “How many more deliveries?”

“Only two.” Ella patted the satchel that had been replete with various dried meats, grains and hard cheeses only hours ago. Now it was close to empty, bringing about a sobering reality. “How does it go so quickly? What we have will never suffice.”

“You’re doing your best. Your father would be proud,” Much said with reverence, warming Ella’s aching heart. “I don’t know of many nobles who give one thought to the peasants occupying their lands, and here you are, feeding yours from your own stores. It’s far better than doing nothing.”

“Yes, but also not nearly enough,” Ella agreed. “And besides, I thought the food didn’t belong to me yet.” Recalling Much’s previous assertions, she couldn’t help elbowing him in the ribs, nearly tumbling from her horse in the process.

“Careful!” Much hissed, grasping her arm and righting her before she slipped too far. “What good can you do for your hamlet if you meet your end beneath your horse’s hooves?”

“Worry not.” Ella resettled into her saddle as she adjusted her grip on the leather reins. “I do believe I’d live forever, simply to spite the lovely Lady Margaret.”

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About the Authors. . .

Britt Cooper

Brittany has been a cosmetologist for over a decade, an occupation that continuously explores fresh avenues of creativity and beauty. She is a new mother, learning to balance the reality of what it means to be a mom, wife, stylist, and author. Reading has always been one of her passions and writing an endeavor she refuses to leave behind. 

Follow Britt on Instagram and check out her website.

Erin Dulin

Erin is a wife and mother who loves spending time with family. She’s an enthusiastic fan of all things sports, experimental baker/chef, and amateur gamer in her free time. Writing has been a passion since her childhood, and while finding peace and quiet in which to write never comes easily, she knows it worth every ounce of chaos when the stories take shape. 

 Follow Erin on Instagram and check out her website.


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Wednesday, March 30, 2022

#NewReleaseBlitz...Heart's Ease...#Billionaire #Contemporary #PNR #Fantasy #Giveaway

Heart's Ease by Mimi B. Rose

Word Count: 70,954
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 286

GENRES:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
PARANORMAL
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

Her mysterious past holds the key to protecting his clan.

Between helping teens at an After-School Art Club and trying to publish her granny’s fairy tales, Chantelle’s life still feels somehow unfulfilled.

When his father and older brother died, Charles was forced into the role of Alpha. Three years later, he still hasn’t dealt with the loss. Now a rival pack is stirring up trouble in his grandmother’s hometown, and he must investigate.

But that is only where the mystery begins. There’s something else going on and it starts with the mysterious and beautiful Chantelle. The secrets of her past and her untrained magical abilities hold the key to the rival pack’s attacks. And when they discover that sorcery is behind the violence against women and children in the territory, they have to trust each other and forge a connection.

But is their bond strong enough to protect the pack and fulfil a Fated Mates prophecy, or will they lead the pack, and their love, to ruin?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of racism, violence and attempted/threatened sexual assault. There is reference to past memory modification and the off-screen death of a teen.

Excerpt

Chantelle Mizuki didn’t want to die today.

I’m wearing old underwear. With holes. Nobody is going to see them. No nurse, no doctor, no coroner. Nobody.

Chantelle’s footsteps crunched in the autumn leaves of the mountain forest. Night was falling. Wolves were howling.

Real wolves.

Granny Ceci’s voice rang in her ears. “Don’t go in the forest at dusk, mon chou.”

Too late, Granny.

She hadn’t planned to be out this late. It was light when the After-School Art Club finished at the library. She had asked her student Alfonso to stay and talk about his application for art school. By the time they were done, the sun was low in the sky. Only after Alfonso had left did she discover she’d locked her keys in the car.

In the daytime, everyone used the path through the woods to get to the other side of the village in the Laurentian Mountains of Quebec. She loved the soft pine needles underfoot, tall trunks stretching their branches to the sky, soothing fragrances of moss and fern. During the day Chantelle expected to stumble across Snow White singing and dancing among the trees.

Night-time was different. Every noise was menacing, every shadow a predator waiting for her to stray off the path.

Chantelle kept to the darkened trail, wishing those howls and barks were getting fainter. The sounds of the forest were soothing when she was tucked into Granny Ceci’s gingerbread cottage—her cottage now. This evening, those sounds took on ominous undertones.

She remembered Granny Ceci telling her, “Ma cocotte, the Laurentian Mountains are home to many creatures, some fair, some foul. Be prepared for both.” Tonight, it was the foul creatures. Why couldn’t it be chipmunks or raccoons?

Another howl wailed over the tops of the trees. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. One step in front of the other. You can do this.

Soon she reached the edge of the village. Only a quarter of a mile left. Past Marie’s big house on the hill, through the ravine, then up the path to the top of her street.

No problem. She had survived book signings with dozens of cranky children and their bad-tempered parents. She had run off her cheating no-good boyfriend. A wolf or two? No sweat.

She picked up her pace to a jog. Her legs were aching, her chest heaving. At the very least she’d have a funny story to tell Yvette and Kat. Well, it would be funny if she made it home in one piece.

The recent wolf sightings had everyone in town worried. The wolves were larger than usual, more vicious. They had even killed some dogs. Villagers were warned to stay away from the woods at night. She knew her woodcraft and carried her multi-tool at all times, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop a feral wolf.

Of course, today was the day she’d locked her keys in the car. She’d forgotten to take her ADHD medication. And her publisher called in the afternoon to say they were passing on her “passion project,” as they’d called it. Illustrating Granny Ceci’s stories and having them published were a way to honour her grandmother’s legacy. But her reputation as a children’s story illustrator was not opening doors for the collection of folk tales. Her usual collaborator hadn’t helped at all. He didn’t want his favourite illustrator distracted from his own book projects.

Was the howling closer now? Or was it her imagination? She crouched by a small cluster of sumac bushes. Her heart raced. The wind whistled through the treetops, clattering in the dying leaves.

There was a clearing ahead. What a relief! It was the small field behind her neighbour’s house. Marie, a dear friend of Granny Ceci’s, lived on the edge of the village. The little meadow divided the forest from her garden, which was enclosed by a stone wall.

There would be a large blue spruce at the northern edge of the clearing. The conical silhouette of the tree stood tall against the dying light. Three shadows, large and shaggy, skulked at the base.

She spared half a breath for one of Granny’s favourite curse words.

Could she make it to Marie’s house? She should move slowly, deliberately, not run. But rabid or savage wolves would still attack. If they came for her, she would have to run along the perimeter.

She was stuck. Sweat trickled down her back.

I need a plan. If she got out of this, she could move back to Montreal. There was nothing keeping her here. Granny had died last year. Why was she still here? Pull yourself together, girl!

The moon burst out from behind a cloud.

One of the wolves looked up, the cool light illuminating his outline. He cocked his head and looked in her direction. He howled, long and low. The other two wolves nosed him, turning towards her. Could they see her?

She sent a silent prayer up to Ceci. Wherever you are, please help me.

The wolves paced at the edge of the clearing, whining and sniffing the air.

She had to move. Maybe make a commotion once she got closer to the garden wall. Marie might hear.

She breathed in and out. Now. She took a cautious step.

One of the wolves inclined his head. Had he seen her? Another step.

He pointed his muzzle at her, his tail arching over his back. Two steps.

The lead wolf pushed off on his hind legs, padding towards her position. The others followed on his tail.

Ben l’on! Granny would have said. Oh, come on!

She sprinted towards the wooden gate in the middle of the stone wall.

They reached her in the clearing. The largest one growled, ears and tail erect. His eyes looked odd—orange, almost glowing. Impossible. It must be a reflection of the moonlight.

These wolves were big. And their faces looked funny—no, not funny, just strange. Almost human-like.

Heart racing, Chantelle took a step back.

The wolves advanced, circling her. They weren’t acting like regular wolves. What was going on?

The leader surged forward, snarling. She backed up and bumped into another wolf. The wolf behind her made a huffing noise that sounded almost like a laugh. Goosebumps broke out on her arms. Was this the end?

The largest one snapped at her leg. As she stepped back, her knees buckled and she fell to the unforgiving ground beneath her. Tears stung her eyes as she scrabbled in the grass and dirt. He descended on her and sunk his teeth in her calf. She batted at him, a shrill scream erupting from her throat. She had to get away.

The other wolves nipped at her arms as she pulled back, dodging their snouts and paws. She searched for purchase on the ground. They dragged her across the ground, away from the wall.

Fear churned in her stomach. Her heart beat fast as she struck at the wolves. Then something changed, fear turning into anger in her chest. Tingling sensations erupted into a warmth across her chest. Her ears buzzed.

What’s going on?

Some kind of energy bubbled from her middle. Rising up, it surged from her core out towards her arms and legs. It felt strange, yet familiar somehow.

The buzzing increased, changing into a burning sensation. A shooting pain in her leg snapped her attention back to the wolves. Sliding along the ground, she reached for the wolf attached to her leg. She smiled as she caught hold. His fur was matted, his bulk solid beneath her fingers.

The low droning made her ears itch and blocked out the growls of her attackers. Her field of vision telescoped into her hands, legs, and torso in front of her.

Anger surged within her. She pushed out from her diaphragm. Energy tingled and sparked, hot and strong. It poured down her arms and into her hands. When she shoved against her attacker, something blue zapped out of her palms.

The wolf let go when the blast hit him. Falling back a few inches, he shook his head and coat.

Growling, ears back, he pushed forward. The lights in his eyes glowed. The wolves regrouped and closed in.

I’m going to die here. With no one present to hear a snappy parting line.

A spotlight came on, almost blinding her. A rifle shot rang in the air and the creatures froze. Out from the garden gate stepped a small figure.

Marie!

The ancient woman leaned forward, hefting a rifle that was almost as tall as she was. Her red plaid jacket was three sizes too big and hung down to her knees. She peered out from thick glasses beneath a dark green hunter’s cap.

“Allez-y vous, sales chiens!” The old woman’s Quรฉbรฉcois accent was thick but her tone was unmistakable.

Chantelle sucked in a big breath. She shuddered and turned to her attackers. The larger brown wolf swung his head towards her.

Another shot grazed the attacker’s mud-coloured fur. Yelping, he jumped out of the ring of light. He whined, pawing the ground, the other wolves huffing beside him. He glanced over at the old woman.

A new growl, low and menacing, rumbled by the gate. Beside Marie was a large dog, ears back, tail up. They moved forward in unison. The wolves backed away from Chantelle.

The lead wolf slunk towards the trees with his two companions. Looking back, he howled once before the trio disappeared into the night.

Chantelle pushed up from the ground, relief warring with the fear and pain. She tried to stand but her leg throbbed. The bite marks oozed blood. Her feet shuffled forward as she held her elbow against her side. Had they bitten her arm too?

She reached towards Marie by the gate.

Then she was falling.

Strong arms wrapped around her. A low voice murmured and Marie’s voice answered. She was being lifted up, arms carrying her to warmth. The voices faded away.

Her fingers touched a soft blanket. How long had she been out? A fire crackled nearby. Gentle hands prodded at the bite.

She faded out again.

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About the Author. . .

Mimi B. Rose

Mimi B. Rose writes fantastic tales filled with steamy enchantment and tender-hearted fulfilment to thrill strong women. As a teen she read V.C. Andews’s Flowers in the Attic and Anne Rice’s The Vampire Lestat and she was hooked on fantasy romance and paranormal romance. Some of her favourite tv shows are Sleepy Hollow, Grimm, and Once--and the reboot of Beauty and the Beast starring Kirstin Kreuk (does anyone remember that series?).

She loves all kinds of shifters and vampires. Her all-time favourite authors are Faith Hunter, Ilona Andrews, Nalini Singh, and more recently Richelle Mead.

Mimi likes a sassy heroine who is independent but finds a strong hero who can keep up with her and treasure her for their uniqueness--including her flaws!

Check out Mimi's website.

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#BookBlitz...Healing Their Wounds...#Contemporary #Erotic #Romance #Gay #Giveaway

Healing Their Wounds by Hayden West

Book 3 in the City of Fountains series

General Release Date: 29th March 2022

Word Count: 15,470
Book Length: NOVELLA
Pages: 69

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI

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Book Description

Sometimes you have to face the past to heal old wounds.

Craig Donaldson has been through a lot in his life. There’s one good thing that has come from it—his son. Owning his own business is hard but he’s making it work. Landing in the hospital after a car accident brings into his life someone he wasn’t sure he needed. The problem is, Craig isn’t positive he’s willing to expose himself to more wounds.

Dr. Hobert ‘Bobby’ Pearson loves his job at the hospital. Being the disappointment of his family isn’t something he is happy with. It seems as though when he gets close to someone he feels he could start a real relationship with, the past shows up and he’s again left alone. His family leaves fresh wounds in their wake. This new patient he has, however, hits all kinds of emotions inside him.

Will they be able to heal together? Or will past pain keep them apart?

Excerpt

Craig leaned forward, his heart caught in his throat. Perspiration dripped down his face, and he shuddered as excitement thrummed through him. So close. Oh God, he was close. So close.

He tensed, words lodged in the back of his throat, almost ready to be released but Not. Quite. Yet. Fingers curved, digging for purchase on something, anything, around him.

A few more seconds. He could hold out. He wouldn’t let go until he was sure. That strain on his body didn’t matter two seconds later.

He erupted, launching up from the hard bleacher seat he’d been on as he watched his son and his team compete in the semi-finals of the Little League World Series.

“Yes!”

All around the parents and friends of the team were cheering beside him. His son, Cody, was twelve this year, and it was his last year to participate. And Cody’s double had allowed his teammate to get that winning run.

Craig’s legs were weak as he continued cheering. He wanted to sink back down to the seat, but wouldn’t. Tears burned his eyes as he watched all of his son’s teammates gather and cheer to celebrate their win.

“Congrats, Craig.”

He accepted the hug from the father of another player, Christopher.

“Same to you. This is great for them.”

The man crossed his arms and nodded. “Sure will help line up the women.”

Craig frowned. “They’re twelve.”

Christopher smirked. “Never too young to start.”

Craig disagreed. “Yeah, they are. And it’s not happening with my boy.”

The man’s wife dropped between them with a squeal. “What are you two talking about? Colleges that will come after them?”

“Something like that,” Christopher said.

Emily kissed Craig’s cheek. “Congratulations, Craig.”

“You too, Emily.”

The blonde bounced down a few more bleacher steps to continue chatting it up with other families. Their son was one of the pitchers on the team.

“I just mean,” Christopher continued, “I need him to know he should have a bitch on his arm, not be sucking dick, isn’t that right?”

Holding Christopher’s blue eyes, Craig clamped his mouth down on his initial response and weighed his words. The last thing he wanted to do was make the year difficult for his son.

“Right now? Right now, I’m going to be the supportive and very fucking proud father of my son. I’m not thinking of his choice in a partner, because he’s twelve.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I’ll support my son regardless, because it’s not only his choice but as his parent, it’s mine to support and love him unconditionally.”

Leaving before he put his fist in the man’s face, he walked to the steps and made his way down, progress hampered by all the celebrating. Not that he minded.

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About the Author. . .

Hayden West

Hayden West lives in the Pacific Northwest, enjoys being outdoors, and hanging out with friends when not working on the next novella to be released. Find Hayden at their website and blog.

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Tuesday, March 29, 2022

#TuesdayTeaser...The Layover...#Contemporary #Gay #Romance

Contemporary / Gay Romance

Date Published: 4/1/22

 photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Inside the cockpit, Captain Paul Miller is always in control. But on the ground, he constantly feels adrift. His marriage is crumbling, and life has become much too complicated.

Jamey Conley has worked hard to make his cafรฉ in the Frisco airport a successful venture. He loves his work – and especially the airport scenery. He goes gaga over guys in uniform, but when he meets Paul, sparks really fly. Too bad his ideal man is married -- and straight.

Excerpt



“Paul?” Jamey came running up. “My friend called. He can’t make it. Can I share a taxi with you?”

Almost as if it were fate, a cab pulled up at that very moment.

No! “Sure.”

Paul slid across the leather seat, and Jamey followed him inside.

The driver turned sideways, and looked over his shoulder. “Where to?”

“Gateway Suites,” Paul said.

The cabbie nodded, and started to turn away.

“Wait.” Paul looked at Jamey. “Tell him where you’re going.”

“Gateway Suites.”

“No.” Paul shook his head. “No, he’s not going there. No.”

“I’m going to the Gateway,” Jamey insisted.

The driver snorted derisively. “I’m not getting in the middle of a lover’s quarrel. You wanna get out here, or go to the Gateway?”

“The Gateway,” Jamey said.

Paul swore under his breath. The cab pulled away from the curb.

Paul tried to keep his voice low. “What kind of game are you playing?”

“I don’t play games, Paul.”

“Then stop acting like a kid,” Paul said in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

Jamey’s eyebrows shot up, and hid themselves under a lock of caramel hair. “Who said anything about fucking?”

The driver turned with a big grin on his face.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Paul yelled, before facing Jamey. “Damn it, keep your voice down.”

“But now that you mention it…” Jamey cupped Paul’s crotch, and rubbed.

Paul intended to push him away, but Jamey’s lips were so close to his. One heated look and they both knew what was coming. Their lips met as if magnetized and it was magic.

Jamey’s mouth was so warm, so soft, much softer than Paul had imagined, and he opened his mouth with a low moan. Jamey slipped his tongue inside. It was just like the movies. Time stopped. Everything disappeared, even the nosy driver. It was just him and Jamey. Until they pulled apart.

Paul sighed. He drew back and studied Jamey’s face. Jamey stared back, his feelings showed plainly on his face. He was thrilled beyond words to be the recipient of Paul’s affection.

Damn, damn, damn. Paul was completely unprepared for the feelings that kiss stirred in him, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. He feigned a disgusted look and shook his head. “Sorry, Jamey. I had too much to drink tonight. You’re a great guy, but I’m not gay.”

Jamey’s happy expression faded. “You know what I think, Paul?” Jamey moved away. “I think you’re lying. To me. And most of all to yourself.” Jamey tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Take me to Dartmouth Street please.”
 

About the Author. . .

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Follow the Publisher on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter: @changelingpress

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#BookTour...First Down #Series #Book 2...#SportsRomance #Giveaway

Halftime

First Down Series Book 2

by Jennifer M. Miller

Genre: Sports Romance

Angst. Passion. Heat.

Meghan and Chase… The story continues.

Total opposites with a troubled past,

Meghan Grace and Chase Harrison are far from end game.

Interceptions from an ex. Flags are thrown. The play clock is ticking...

If they can’t face the past, they’ll lose each other forever.

Don't miss this suspense-filled sports romance; one click now.

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First Down

First Down Series Book 1

Meghan Grace is hiding a secret that will destroy her.

For Grey, grief and pain go hand in hand. After her father’s death, she hides her true self from the world under thick make-up and dyed hair. No one can see the tragedy in her eyes.

When she’s forced to run away, she finds solace in her college scholarship. Except she’s constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting for her mother to strike. All hope seems lost...

Until Chase plops into the chair next to her. If only he knew who she really was… If he connects the dots too late, he’ll lose her, and his chance at the NFL, forever.

Fans of Lucy Score and Meghan Quinn will love the witty dialogue and angsty athletes in Jennifer M. Miller’s First Down series.

Ready for kick-off? One click First Down today.

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USA Today and internationally bestselling author Jennifer M. Miller writes sports romance as well as paranormal romance for Creative Words Press.

When she’s not writing, Jennifer travels across the United States with her family in an RV. At each destination, she draws inspiration for her next story.

Whether its worlds with magic and werewolves or a budding flame between the star wide receiver and his coach’s daughter, she always adds a healthy dose of steam and humor.

If you like Jennifer’s angsty characters and witty dialogue, she recommends you also check out Lucy Score and Emelia Rose. They're kind of her idols. Subscribe to Jennifer's newsletter for a free book and updates on her latest releases!

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#BookTour...The Ravencrest Saga: Volumes I, II, III...#Gothic #Paranormal #Giveaway

The Ravencrest Saga: Volumes I, II, III

by Tamara Thorne & Alistair Cross

Genre: Gothic, Paranormal

Book 1: THE GHOSTS OF RAVENCREST


Ravencrest Manor is the most beautiful thing new governess, Belinda Moorland, has ever seen, but as she learns more about its tangled past of romance and terror, she realizes that beauty has a dark side. Ravencrest is built on secrets, and its inhabitants seem to be keeping plenty of their own -- from the English butler, Grant Phister, to the power-mad administrator, Mrs. Heller, to Belinda's mysterious and handsome new employer, Eric Manning, who watches her with dark, fathomless eyes. But Belinda soon realizes that the living who dwell in Ravencrest have nothing on the other inhabitants -- the ones who walk the darkened halls by night … the ones who enter her dreams … the ones who are watching … and waiting …


Book 2: THE WITCHES OF RAVENCREST


Governess Belinda Moorland has settled into life at Ravencrest and, as summer gives way to autumn, romance is in the air. She and multi-millionaire Eric Manning are falling in love … but powerful forces will stop at nothing to keep them apart. As the annual Harvest Ball is set to begin, evil abounds at Ravencrest. Murder lurks in the shadows, evil spirits freely roam the halls, a phantom baby cries, signaling a death in the mansion, and in the notoriously haunted east wing, three blood-soaked nuns, Sisters Faith, Hope, and Charity, tend to the demented needs of a maid gone mad.

Ravencrest has come to life. In the gardens below, granite statues dance by moonlight, and a scarecrow goes on a killing rampage, collecting a gruesome assortment of body parts from unwilling donors … But Belinda’s greatest danger is the vengeful spirit of Rebecca Dane. Once the mistress of Ravencrest, Rebecca Dane has a centuries-old axe to grind with the powerful witch, Cordelia Heller -- and Belinda becomes her weapon of choice.


Book 3: EXORCISM


In the 1920s, Henry Manning ruled Ravencrest with an iron fist. He held debauched parties that would have inspired Jay Gatsby himself. From the Manning fortune to a beautiful wife, the silent film star known as the White Violet, Henry had it all … including a loyal cult that worshipped him, and the demon Forneus. Violet lost her life putting a stop to the demented perversions that Henry and his demonic familiar visited upon Ravencrest … but now that evil has returned.

In the night, an innocent maid is seduced by a demon lover. A child is born, but it is not of this earth. Father Antonio DeVargas is summoned as ghostly parties light up the old poolhouse and phantom screams rip open the night. Meanwhile, the White Violet wanders the halls of Ravencrest warning the inhabitants of death and disaster to come. . . and the current master of Ravencrest, Eric Manning, is decidedly not himself.

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Tamara Thorne's first novel was published in 1991, and since then she has written many more, including international bestsellers Haunted, Bad Things, Moonfall, Eternity and Brimstone. A lifelong lover of ghost stories, she is currently working on continuing collaborations with Alistair Cross as well as a new solo novel, Old Wives’ Tales, that kicks off a series starring Sheriff Zach Tully from Eternity. Learn more about her at: http://tamarathorne.com

Alistair Cross' debut novel, The Crimson Corset, a vampiric tale of terror and seduction, was an immediate bestseller earning praise from veteran vampire-lit author, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, and New York Times bestseller, Jay Bonansinga, author of The Walking Dead series. In 2012, Alistair joined forces with international bestseller, Tamara Thorne, and as Thorne & Cross, they write the successful Gothic series, The Ravencrest Saga as well as bestselling novels including The Cliffhouse Haunting, Darling Girls, and Mother. They are currently completing their next thriller, Spite House, and working on several other novels.

In addition to writing, Alistair and Tamara host Thorne & Cross: Carnival Macabre. Join them as they explore legends and lore, monsters and myths, and hauntings and horrors. They’re digging deep in their research files to bring you face-to-face with the unknown, the unusual, and the bizarre.

From 2014-2020, Alistair and Tamara hosted Thorne & Cross: Haunted Nights LIVE!, which featured such guests as Anne Rice, V. C. Andrews, Preston & Child, Christopher Moore, and Laurell K. Hamilton. You can listen to every show at either of their websites.

The Purple Probe is the official newsletter of the Thorne & Cross Universe and it’s the strangest thing to ever hit your inbox. You’ll get exclusive content, including articles written by the Thorne & Cross cast, like Jojo’s Catty Corner, Essie to the Rescue, and a Roving Reporter who thinks he knows it all. Additionally, you’ll get news of sales, appearances, and inside looks at all sorts of things. Just visit: http://eepurl.com/ckaBrr

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Alistair's Links:

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