Monday, 15 October 2018

Three Mages and a Margarita by Annette Marie

Title: Three Mages and a Margarita
Series: The Guild Codex: Spellbound #1
Author: Annette Marie
Genre: New Adult, Urban Fantasy
Publication date: September 14th 2018

Broke, almost homeless, and recently fired. Those are my official reasons for answering a wanted ad for a skeevy-looking bartender gig.

It went downhill the moment they asked me to do a trial shift instead of an interview—to see if I’d mesh with their “special” clientele. I think that part went great. Their customers were complete dickheads, and I was an asshole right back. That’s the definition of fitting in, right?

I expected to get thrown out on my ass. Instead, they…offered me the job?

It turns out this place isn’t a bar. It’s aguild. And the three cocky guys I drenched with a margarita during my trial? Yeah, they were mages. Either I’m exactly the kind of takes-no-shit bartender this guild needs, or there’s a good reason no one else wants to work here.

So what’s a broke girl to do? Take the job, of course—with a pay raise.

Note: The three mages are definitely sexy, but this series isn’t a reverse harem. It’s 100% fun, sassy, fast-paced urban fantasy.


Aaron laughed. “Hey Kai, how do you start an argument with a ginger?”

“Say anything,” the dark-haired guy answered with a smirk. “You realize you’re a ginger too, right? You’re insulting yourself.”

I shot them a furious glare. Why were they making my night worse? Why couldn’t they move their sexy asses to a table? The fact they were hot just made me angrier. All that drool-worthy sex appeal wasted on jackasses—well, maybe not the scarred guy. He was possibly not a jackass. He hadn’t said much so I wasn’t sure.

The three of them looked like goddamn models, but each from a different magazine. Aaron, he might have just galloped across a meadow on horseback, lassoing wild cattle—or beautiful women. He wasn’t dressed like a cowboy, but he had the same ruggedness to him. And he had the muscles to back up that impression, with toned biceps and hard forearms displayed by his gray t-shirt.

His buddy Kai could have walked right off a luxury car ad—the guy behind the wheel, adjusting his sunglasses as he casually careened his sports car down a winding mountain road while the camera panned across his face. His tousled dark hair, fair skin, and arresting features could sell anything.

The third guy was trickier. Ignoring the scar, he had amazing olive skin and rumpled dark brown curls, with a cultivated five-o’clock shadow that scruffed up his jaw in the sexiest way possible. Handsome as hell but not too striking, he was the kind of guy businesses used to advertise men’s casual clothing—wear our jeans and you, average man, can also turn females into quivering masses of desire.

Yep, they were hot shit and, in Aaron’s case, totally knew it.

Author Bio:

Annette Marie is the author of Amazon best-selling YA urban fantasy series Steel & Stone, its prequel trilogy Spell Weaver, and romantic fantasy trilogy Red Winter. Her first love is fantasy, but fast-paced adventures and tantalizing forbidden romances are her guilty pleasures. She lives in the frozen winter wasteland of Alberta, Canada (okay, it's not quite that bad) with her husband and their furry minion of darkness—sorry, cat—Caesar. When not writing, she can be found elbow-deep in one art project or another while blissfully ignoring all adult responsibilities.

Saturday, 13 October 2018

Mythicals by Dennis Meredith

Title: Mythicals
Author: Dennis Meredith
Genre: Science fiction, Fairy tale
Publication Date: December 8, 2018

They’re real: fairies, pixies, werewolves, ogres!
They’re aliens!

Drunken journalist Jack March can’t believe his bleary eyes when he stumbles onto a winged fairy! She vaults away into the night sky, and his unbelievable—and unbelieved—encounter leads to a stunning revelation that all the creatures of myth and legend are real!

Fairies, pixies, trolls, werewolves, ogres, vampires, angels, elves, bigfoot—all are alien exiles to the planet. For their crimes, these “mythicals” are serving out banishment disguised in flesh-suits enabling them to live among the planet’s natives.

Jack reveals their secret to the world, along with a horrendous discovery: they have decided that the native “terminal species” must be eradicated before it ruins its home planet's ecology.

In this riveting scifi/fairy tale, Jack joins with sympathetic fairies, pixies, and ogres to attempt to save the planet from the mythicals, as well as the mysterious alien cabal known as the Pilgrims.


Jack was sloppily, unacceptably drunk, so Anna hauled her stumbling soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend up the stairs to the residence floor. She looked desperately up and down the hall to see if they'd been detected. Muttering curses, she shoved him through a guest bedroom door.

"You are not just embarrassing me! You could cost me my job!" She scolded.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I just—"

"Yes, I know you lost your job. That is not an excuse! Now you have also lost your girlfriend!"

"Please, please, please! I'm sorry. Look, I'll straighten up. I'll take a little time and sober up and come downstairs and be fine." He gestured at the door to the suite's bathroom. "I'll wash up, straighten up. You go on down."

She spat a curse that called him an intimate body part, and turned and left.

"I deserve that," mumbled Jack to himself. He lumbered into the bathroom and closed the door. He pulled off his tie, jacket, and shirt, ran cold water in the sink and plunged his head into it, submerging his face as long as he could. He raised up to see in the mirror the dripping, bleary-eyed face of a drunken young man, sopping hair in disarray. He plunged his face into the water again, coming up. His head was clearing.

He was drying his face, when he heard a faint thump in the bedroom.

Oh, no! He thought. Somebody’s here! Maybe to go to the bathroom. He quietly locked the bathroom door and waited. Nobody tried to enter. There were no more noises. He was safe. He put on his shirt and jacket, not attempting to knot his tie. He was still too tipsy. He cautiously unlocked the door and ever-so-quietly opened it.

He peeked out into the room. Nobody there. He eased out of the door, and was turning to leave, when a flash of movement in the corner of his eye caused him to turn back into the room.

He gasped in shock at the sight. Standing by the window was a slim, naked girl, with creamy, smooth skin and lustrous, silver hair. But she had wings!


The creature had her back to him, struggling to step out of a rubbery-looking pile of flesh-colored stuff on the floor. Beside the pile lay a dress and shoes.

"Damnity-damn!" exclaimed the creature.

"Jeez!" Jack grunted in surprise at the creature's curse.

The creature spun to look at him with brilliant, piercing blue eyes. She let out her own gasp, freed her delicate feet from the fleshy pile, flung open the large double windows, and gathered everything up, clutching it tightly to her chest.

Her large transparent wings began to beat furiously, filling the room with an intense hum. They became a blur, as they lifted her smoothly off the floor. Hovering, she turned for just an instant to look once more back at him with wide, frightened eyes and sailed out the window into the dark sky.

Jack stood unsteadily for a long moment, mouth agape, stunned into immobility by what he had seen. Then, his reporter's instinct kicked in and he lurched to the window, leaning out into the bracing, crisp night, peering upward.

Nothing. He saw nothing but dark sky lit from below by the glow of the city's lights.

But he had seen something. Really something!

Meet The Author:

Dennis Meredith brings to his novels an expertise in science from his career as a science communicator at some of the country's leading research universities, including MIT, Caltech, Cornell, Duke and the University of Wisconsin. He has worked with science journalists at all the nation's major newspapers, magazines, and radio and TV networks and has written well over a thousand news releases and magazine articles on science and engineering over his career.

He has served on the executive board of the National Association of Science Writers and has written numerous articles and guidebooks on science writing and science communication. He has also served as a judge and manager for the NASW Science-in-Society Awards and the AAAS Science Writing Awards.

He was a creator and developer of EurekAlert!, working with The American Association for the Advancement of Science to establish this international research news service, which now links more than 4,500 journalists to news from 800 subscribing research institutions.

In 2007, he was elected as a AAAS Fellow "for exemplary leadership in university communications, and for important contributions to the theory and practice of research communication." In 2012 he was named the year's Honorary Member of Sigma Xi, the Scientific Research Society.

He holds a B.S. degree in chemistry from the University of Texas (1968) and an M.S. in biochemistry and science writing from the University of Wisconsin (1970).

He is currently writing science articles, non-fiction books and science fiction novels. He also develops and conducts communication workshops for researchers seeking to enhance their communication skills, both professional and lay-level. He has developed workshops for researchers at universities, research foundations, and government agencies and laboratories.

Be sure to pop back next week, when Dennis Meredith will be joining me for an interview!

Friday, 12 October 2018

The Secrets Of Chateau Swansea by R.C. Matthews

Title: The Secrets Of Chateau Swansea
Author: R.C. Matthews
Genre: Gothic Romance
Publication Date: October 1, 2018

A grisly murder leaves a haunted estate without an heir, and a powerful medium scrambles to find answers from beyond the grave.

Determined to escape the nightmarish memories of her childhood, heiress and psychic Maribeth Sommerset pursues the adventurous life of a psychic investigator, beginning with a murder and the spirits who hover behind at the haunted Chateau Swansea

Meanwhile, devoted steward of the chateau Arthur Dunn plays a dangerous game of deception to shield his employer's good name, landing himself at the top of Maribeth's suspect list.

Amid scandalous secrets and destructive lies, will Maribeth uncover the secrets of Chateau Swansea before the killer strikes again?

Don't miss out on this thrilling Victorian gothic romance!

Amazon ⬪ Barnes & Noble ⬪ Kobo ⬪ iBooks


The Orange Blossom Room

         Arthur had assigned her to a child’s bedroom? Strolling farther inside, she picked up a book from the bedside table. Flipping to the first page, she read a few lines aloud. “The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea-green boat. They took some honey, and plenty of money, wrapped up in a five-pound note.”
         Peals of laughter rang in her ears and warmth spread throughout her body. She closed her eyes, savoring the sense of happiness reverberating through her. The young girl who owned this book had cherished every word.
         Hello, little girl, are you here? Come speak with me. We can be friends, if you like.
         “A silly story, if ever there was one,” Arthur said, disturbing the quiet moment.
         Maribeth grinned as she stroked her hand over the colorful illustration. “This was one of my favorites as a child, especially when a brooding pirate read it to me. Before meeting Eveline, my guardian—”
         The steward’s brow shot up and she snapped her mouth shut, tossing the book onto the bed. She shouldn’t share such stories with a stranger. Better she get on with her purpose for being here. She turned her attention to unbuttoning her coat.
         “Go on,” he said. “You had a fascinating childhood. I would love to hear more.”
         Arthur leaned his shoulder against the wall, folding his arms over his chest while scrutinizing her. Why did he study her so intently with that enigmatic turn of his lips? Men never watched her every move with interest or engaged her in more than small talk. Her fingers trembled, and she looked away. Speaking about her childhood was out of the question.
         “I’m told the daughter of Madame Brown favored that book as well,” he finally said.
         “The child who slept here?” she asked.
         The gleam in his eyes was inscrutable. “No one else has stayed overnight in this room since the child disappeared many years ago.”
         Her chest tightened, and she swallowed past the bile rising in her throat. Something terrible had happened to the girl, every fiber of Maribeth’s being confirmed the truth of the matter.
         “I thought perhaps…” The steward pressed his lips together as if thinking better of voicing his thoughts aloud, but the cat was out of the bag.
         “You thought my sleeping in this room might nettle the ghost of her mother into seeking me out?”
         He rubbed his jaw with a small measure of contrition reflected in his eyes. “Rather coldhearted of me, I suppose. Would you prefer accommodations in the servants’ quarters?”
         “Certainly not.” As her gaze swept through the bedroom, a tingling foreboding grew in her belly. “Your intuition was spot on.”
         “Does anything scare you, Maribeth?”
         He sauntered behind her and peeled the coat off her shoulders. His left hand brushed hers as he tugged on one of the fitted sleeves. She held her breath, attuned in every way to his presence; his heady scent, the sound of his soft breathing, his body heat radiating on her back. She wanted…
         She truly could not say. Her experiences with men outside her family circle were limited. But she had witnessed Edith with her husband in unguarded moments when they thought no one was looking. Did she wish Arthur would press his lips on her nape or steal a kiss?
         “I have nothing to fear from the ghost of Madame Brown,” she said, turning to gaze up at him. But his nearness and the way he purred her name in that seductive baritone was more than a little unsettling. Ghosts rarely gave cause to be feared. But a handsome man who consumed her with every look…
         He folded her coat and placed it on the end of the bed.
         “I’ll settle in here later,” she said, clearing her throat. “What was the little girl’s name?”
         “Ah, ah, ah.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid you must discover that on your own.”
         Her eyes narrowed. “A test of my skills? I could simply inquire with Mrs. Hawkins.”
         “But you won’t. I sense your pride doesn’t permit you to travel the easy route.” He smirked.
         Bastard. Of course his observation was dead on. She dearly loved a challenge.

About R.C. Matthews:

R.C. Matthews is the author of contemporary and historical romances featuring bold, sassy heroines and magnetic alpha heroes. Warning! The chemistry between her characters is off the charts hot, so read at your own risk. She resides in the Midwest and is surrounded by men: her husband and three sons. During her free time you'll find her watching The Walking Dead, reading a fabulous book or hanging out with her family.

Guest Post by R.C. Matthews:

The Secrets of Chateau Swansea combines my love of gothic romance with a cozy mystery. My research of the Victorian era was so much fun. After I learned so much about how spiritualism reigned during that period from the 1840’s to the early 1900’s, I absolutely had to write books that involved mediums. Mediums, clairvoyants, séances, psychics, talking boards, ghost hunting, and more were explored to the fullest. So much so that in 1882, the Society for Psychical Research was founded and their website states they are “the first organization established to examine allegedly paranormal phenomena using scientific principles.”

So the question remains: Is anyone truly capable of communicating with ghosts?

I don’t know, but it sure is fun to write about. If you love stories with mediums and the supernatural, check out The Secrets of Chateau Swansea as well as my Tortured Souls series.

Here are some fun facts I learned while researching for this book.

Fun Fact #1 – Ouija board was originally known as ‘talking’ or ‘spirit’ board.

The Ouija board was patented on July 1, 1890 by Elijah Bond, however, psychics had been using ‘talking boards’ or ‘spirit boards’ for a long time before the Ouija board became a household board game.

As part of the spiritualist movement that began in the 1840’s, mediums started wide-spread use of talking boards as a means of communicating with the dead. Some Christian denominations warned that using talking boards could result in demonic possession. But that did not keep the general public from falling in love with the idea of communicating with the dead through use of the Ouija board, which became a household brand. Ouija is to talking boards as Kleenex is to facial tissue.

Fun Fact #2 – Séances were held at the White House

The Victorian era was the height of spiritualism and séances in both the United Kingdom and the United States. There were many famous mediums from the Victorian era.

According to the article “Odd Details About Victorian Era Spiritualism” written by Amanda Sedlak-Hevener, two séances were held at the White House in order to contact the dead.

One was arranged by Abraham Lincoln's wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, after the death of her son Willie. Mary was well-known for her spiritualist beliefs. The President himself was reputedly present during at least one of the many séances that Mary arranged for, which were conducted by famous mediums like Cranston Laurie.

The second was arranged by Jane Pierce, wife of President Franklin Pierce. She invited the Fox sisters, Margaret and Kate, to come to the White House to hold a séance to communicate with their son died who in train accident shortly before President Pierce took office in 1853.

Fun Fact #3 – Death Photography was a ‘thing’

Morbid, but true. Taking pictures of the dead was quite common in the 19th and early 20th century when people died at home so death was a normal part of everyday life. People wanted to preserve their loved ones through a picture which would be taken shortly after death. With this such a common practice, it lead the way to ‘spirit photography’. William H. Mumler is one of the 19th century photographers credited with starting the trend of spirit photography. His double exposure of a photo looked like a ghost lurking behind his subjects. He started doctoring his photos for grief-stricken families during the U.S. Civil War.

Fun Fact #4 – Ghost hunting became highly popular in the Victorian era

Ghost hunting was huge in the Victorian era and one could regularly find reports of ghost sightings in newspapers across the country. This is no wonder considering this was also the time that spiritualism exploded.

The term ‘ghost-hunter’ can be traced back to at least 1833 when Michael Banim published his fictional novel titled, The Ghost-Hunter and His Family. But they didn’t have all the fancy tools back then that we do today. They relied on mediums, cold spots, eerie sounds and strange movements.

These days you can buy a ghost hunting kit for upwards of $800!

Tour Schedule: 

Follow the book tour from October 1 - 14, 2018.

Visit each tour stop daily and discover more features, excerpts, reviews, interviews, fun facts and more!

To check the latest tour schedule, visit The Secrets of Chateau Swansea Book Page at Book Unleashed.

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Thursday, 11 October 2018

Ridge by S.L. Scott

Title: Ridge
Author: S.L. Scott
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance

The One didn’t exist.

Then I met Meadow.

The band's honorary little sister was off-limits. Too late for that. She says we’re “nothing serious,” but she’s gotten under my skin and I can’t stop thinking about her. And when I touch her, I know we’re meant to be.

Happy Endings don’t exist.

Not even with Ridge.

My big plans never included falling for a rock star. Too soon for that. He wants to make us a “thing,” and I can’t deny our chemistry is combustible. His persistence is wearing me down, making his proposition hard to resist.

If true love only exists in fairy tales, why am I beginning to believe that Ridge just might be my happily ever after?

This STANDALONE Second Chance Rock Star Romance by New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, will have you falling in love with Ridge Carson while introducing you to his Sexy as Sin band mates—Jet, Tulsa, and Rivers Crow.



Dave “Ridge” Carson

         Somewhere between El Paso and Tucson, I found my soul under the bright stars of the Southwest.
         Looking up, I drink her in. Meadow hates when I stare at her, but beauty like hers is rare. Her chin dips down, and she kisses my cheek, trailing more toward my ear where she whispers, “You feel so good inside me.”
         “You have it all wrong. You make me feel good inside you.” I capture her lips on the edge of a laugh and kiss her while she continues to rock on top of my lap.
         The sound of our bodies, our skin slick against each other becomes part of the hum of the desert outside the car. A night wind whistles through the cracked open window as the temperatures continue to fall well after sunset. We couldn’t wait—not for a hotel or a rest stop. When her hand dipped to my pants and she rubbed over me, causing my body to react, I pulled over.
         Time is our enemy. There’s never enough of it when I’m with her. Every time I’m with her, I want to drain every ounce of life from the seconds, minutes, few short hours we get to be with each other.
         My gaze rolls over the bottom of her jaw as her head tilts back, her mouth open, her bare breasts in front of me. I want to hold her still, hold her here, right the fuck here on top of me.
         I run my hands over her body as I make love to the woman who’s become an addiction of mine. I breathe better, easier when I’m with her. The music of our bodies together is the only melody I hear. She’s become my friend.
         My lover.
         My muse.
         Lifting up, she eases back down and then lifts again, gripping my shoulders and digging her nails into my skin. The pain is pleasure when doled out in provocative ways. “Dave,” she whispers on the end of a purr. No other name has been uttered in pure ecstasy like the way she says mine.
         I hold her by the hips in the back seat of the SUV taking in the full view. “Hey,” I say.
         She comes back to me, her eyes open, her soul exposed in such a vulnerable way, setting my heart on fire. “Hey.” She smiles, and I hold her still again, wanting this to last forever while equally wanting to rush the release.
         A few sips of the wine we’ve been drinking straight from the bottle make her eyes sparkle. Caught between want and need, her smile is even until the corners, which curve up. It’s a smile that both hurts and heals my heart when it appears. “Don’t leave.”
         Leaning down, she kisses my forehead, my nose, my mouth. With her lips against mine, she whispers, “I have to go.”
         I’ve been careful about making plans with her for so long that the words feel foreign to me even now when this feels more intimate than any other time before. Every time with her is like this—better than the last. “I want you to stay.”
         I fell for the free-spirited beauty long before we left Austin. But like all who are meant to soar, she can’t be caged by antiquated notions of romance. Meadow Fellowes has been clear about what we are or ever could be—nothing serious. But sometimes, when she looks at me, I see more hidden in the emerald pools of her eyes. I understand the yearning. She says, “My flight is tomorrow night.”
         We’ve been so good at keeping it casual, but nothing serious means we’re fucking because we want to have sex. This isn’t fucking, just like we’re not casual, not to me. “Can you change it? Give us another week. Another day. Give us a chance.”
         Leaning down, she kisses me and then sits back up. With her palms on my chest, she holds her smile. “I am. By leaving.” Her eyes close, and she starts moving on top of me again.
         So I grip her a little tighter, holding her while I can. I meet every one of her pushes with a thrust of my own. As she comes back to me, the lids are half-mast, but her gaze is fixed on me. She whispers, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
         “I’m thinking how good this feels. Just us. Alone. In the desert, making love, having sex, fucking. All of it. All of you. You feel so good to me. Maybe we should be more to each other.”
         “You’re more than you know,” she purrs softly and then leans back as if our connection is too much before she starts a slow gyrate. God, she feels amazing. A hand rubs over my chest, and this time, my eyes meet hers, coming back from the hazy edge of release. “We’re not those people.”
         “What people are those?”
         “The kind of people who make plans.”
         Our bodies glide together as I say, “We’ve made plans before.”
         “Spur-of-the-moment plans. Those don’t count.”
         “They count.” They fucking count. I want to argue, but my mind clouds as our bodies move of their own volition. My eyes dip closed, and I swim in the moment, buried deep inside her.
         We fall, tipping over that line that keeps us safe and the one that will end us—heart, body, and soul. It’s where I prefer to be with her. If only we could stay in this place longer than it takes for our breathing to recover.
         My heart calms, and my breathing steadies. Meadow slides down with me still inside her and rests her head on my shoulder. Her fingers toy with the hairs on my chest before a kiss is placed on my neck. “Six months,” she says. “I’ll be back in six months.”
         I tighten my arms around her. I don’t care that my body’s too big for this back seat or that we’re covered in sweat. All that matters is that I have her in my arms for a short time, and I intend to savor every second until she boards that plane.

FREE in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited Program





**Series Cover Designs: RBA Designs**

About S.L. Scott:

Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She's obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she's a pro.

~ Text “slscott” to 77948 ~

Wednesday, 10 October 2018

The Scythian Trials by Elizabeth Isaacs

Title: The Scythian Trials
Author: Elizabeth Isaacs
Genre: Adult, Fantasy, Romance, Science Fiction
Published by: Vesuvian Books
Publication date: October 16th 2018

Descendants of the Amazons, the Scythians work alongside prominent governments but answer to no one. Warriors living on the fringe of civilization, they live by one credo: Strength through Equality. Power through Knowledge.

Nya Thalestris is the brightest Scythian of her generation. Strong, capable, ruthless, she is sure to earn a spot in the Trials, a time-honored mating ritual responsible for the evolution of her species.

Abducted by their sworn enemy, the Drahzda, Nya is forever altered and spirals out of control. The Society sends in Jax Nickius. Infamous psychologist and one of the most brutal warriors of their kind, he discovers triggers planted in Nya’s mind. As Nya solidifies her spot in the Trials, Jax develops a plan to help her heal—while pursuing her as a mate. But, Nya’s attraction to Jax is at war with her instinct to never let anyone get too close.

During the Trials, Nya’s repressed memories surface, revealing a new enemy—one from inside the consulate walls—and a traitorous alliance on the horizon that could irrevocably change the course of history.

Since before the Bronze Age, the Society has managed to safeguard humanity from itself … until now.



      Clouds billowed over the consulate’s heavy woodlands, floating in the bright sky, their white tufts peeking through the coliseum’s elegant open arches. Nya marveled that such a massive stone structure could seem at home among the infinite flora of dense evergreens and vibrantly flowered meadows. Most Scythian arenas were architectural masterpieces, but the Consulate’s stadium outdid them all.
      She and Victor stepped beneath the entrance that led to the heart of the arena. As they entered the sun-drenched stadium, Nya stopped to watch the hundreds of warriors sparring.
      The males were in the same gear they wore at lunch—black pants and bright jackets, which represented their areas of expertise. White, the hue for linguists, was sprinkled throughout the various colors of the science, technology and several weapons industries. Strangely missing was Tovaris black.
      A hulk of a Scythian, skin the color of ebony, stood among the others, his dreadlocks pulled back in a loose ponytail, which hung down his back. His thick thighs strained as he charged, his biceps flexed as he swung a large pole with a double-edged axe on each end. The warrior used a halberd as if it were made of air, creating a clean swath through the others. His black eyes glittered with the joy of the fight, his bright white smile a contrast to his dark complexion.
      “Who’s that?” Nya asked, admiring his form as he dipped and swayed.
      Victor pulled out his tablet and tapped on the warrior’s picture. “His name is Aren Maori, and he leads the Scythians that protect parts of Africa.”
      She strained to see around the growing crowd watching the display.
      “He’s already their Suveran?”
      Victor studied her expression. “Yes. Would you like to meet him?”
      Nya swallowed. She had to admit, he was beautiful when he moved. The warrior must have felt her stare because he turned. As soon as he met her gaze, he dropped the weapon and jogged across the field.
      “You must be the reason I’m here.” He smiled, his black eyes sparkled with a gentleness that contrasted his bulky frame.
      “Aren, may I introduce Anya Thalestris?” Victor motioned toward Nya.
      “Anya.” The warrior spoke slowly as if he was testing the feel of her name on his tongue.
      She blushed. “Most people call me Nya.”
      His large hand engulfed hers as he brought it to his full lips. “Most people call me Aren, but you can call me whatever you want.”

Author Bio:

Elizabeth is an author, teacher, and publishing professional who began her career as a national presenter for Resource Profiles, where she developed teacher seminars designed to foster creative brain stimulation. Moving into formal education, she helped at-risk students improve their writing skills as well as created and implemented a creative writing/blogging program that centered on teaching the 21st-century learner. Works stemming from this initiative were published online and seen in over 40 countries.

Elizabeth receives invitations to speak nationwide at schools and book clubs. She co-founded the popular book site, Chirenjenzie, which reaches thousands of people throughout the world. The writer support and reader interest group promotes and interacts with followers on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and various other blog sites. Elizabeth has a Master's degree from Austin Peay State University, where she studied classical opera. She graduated Magna Cum Laude and was a member of the Phi Beta Kappa Honor Society.

"The Light of Asteria" received Honorable Mention at the New York Book Festival.

Tuesday, 9 October 2018

Destiny Fulfilled by Laire McKinney

Title: Destiny Fulfilled
Author: Laire McKinney
Genre: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Publication date: August 7th 2018

Only love can save them…

Wren O’Hara is waiting for the day she succumbs to mental illness like her mother. When she is attacked by a psychotic client at work, and saved by what must be an angel, she fears the time for insanity has come.

Little does she know, her savior is an immortal warrior druid named Riagan Tenman, and that he will challenge everything she ever thought she knew about reality.

Now Wren must decide if the fantasy unfolding before her is true, or if she has finally lost her mind.



         His lips moved back to her mouth and this time she hesitated, her fight reduced. She wanted his kiss. She may try to fight it, but that simple parting of her moist lips told him she welcomed this invasion. He thrust his hips against her and she cried out, a mixture of fear and desire filling her voice.
         “Lass,” he breathed into her ear, “I want you.”
         He massaged her large breast in his hand and licked the corner of her mouth. The breast fit his hand perfectly, and he knew his hand would forever remain ready to cup it again. In fact, he never wanted to let her go. Her smell, taste, the feel of her was overwhelming, imprinting itself in his mind, against his skin, within his soul.
He’d never responded to a woman like this and it was too delicious to bear. He wanted her, to take her body fully and completely, to feel her underneath him as he brought pleasure to the both of them with his ancient rhythm.
         But then a whip-like slap against his neck made him pull back. “Ouch.”
         Wren wiggled out of his arms and moved to the far banister. Her full breasts heaved with each breath, nipples taut against her shirt. He couldn’t control his urge to wrap his big hands around their soft plumpness again, and he lunged forward, trapping her against the railing.
         He cupped her breasts in his hands, ready to die with the feel of such perfection.
         “Ouch.” Something slapped his neck again, and he stumbled back. Was it that damned faery again? But the slap was too hard for such a wee creature. What was it then?
         Lingering near the tree line was Oephille, anger causing her brightness to pulse. He raised his gaze to the tree by her side, whose longest sinewy limb hovered just over his head.
         Damned trees. They were supposed to be friends.
         But when he looked back at Wren, stunningly, hauntingly beautiful…achingly, tenderly vulnerable, he realized he’d been about to make an enormous mistake. Forcing the lass would not achieve anything other than brief respite for the desperate hunger in his loins, and desperate it was. No, it would take more than that.
         But how his body ached. His manhood pushed painfully against his too-tight jeans. He throbbed all over, understanding well how the fire in his body could usurp the logic in his mind.
         Wren’s slender arms folded over her chest, and she stared at him, mouth open, eyes wide. She appeared more bewildered now than angry.
         “I’m sorry, lass.” And he meant it. Well, at least part of him did. What was going on here? This wee woman had a strange effect on him, and he liked it not. He didn’t recognize himself, and that was dangerous. He had to stay focused on his goal—to return to his realm.
         She remained silent, watching him like a weary calf who just survived an attack by a grizzly bear.
         He raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. She stood before him, captivating and ethereal, perfect and scared.
         Her lips parted as though she were about to speak, but then she stepped forward, closing the space between them. She did not touch him, but looked directly into his eyes. Hers were soft and pleading. For what?
         Then he knew.
         She panted and her mouth opened again. He bent his head toward hers. She did not pull away. He inhaled her scent and brought his lips to hers. Soft, so soft were her lips, like bundles of silk.
         He moved his hands from her shoulders to the bare skin of her neck and cradled her face. He was gentle now, tender. The urgent needs of his body were now controlled under the desperate timing of his predicament. He had not frightened her earlier as he’d thought. No, he could tell she wanted him to kiss her, to hold her. So he pulled her closer, then closer still. He needed her to love him and love him true. And from her reaction to this kiss, she was already halfway there.

Author Bio:

Laire McKinney is the author of contemporary and fantasy women’s fiction. She believes in a hard-earned happily-ever-after, with nothing more satisfying than passionate kisses and sexy love scenes, endearing characters and complex conflict. When not writing, she can be found traipsing among the wildflowers, reading under a willow tree, or gazing at the moon while pondering the meaning of it all. She lives in Virginia with her family and beloved rescue pup, Lila da Bean.

Monday, 8 October 2018

Cursed Rebel by H.G. Lynch

Title: Cursed Rebel
Author: H.G. Lynch
Genre: Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult
Publication date: October 5th 2018

My grandma always warned me never to trust a Faery. I never believed they were real…until I was kidnapped by one.

Finn is an obnoxious, mercurial Fae whose job it is to bring me to the King. He’s gorgeous, but in this world, the prettiest things are the deadliest.

But if I want to survive the Fae realm and find a way home, I’ll have to trust him…for now.


The faery girl looked up at me, her smile fading. She looked at her empty hand sadly, her thin brows drawing together, and for a second, I felt horrible for upsetting her. Then she raised her eyes back to mine, and they were cold and grey.
Her mouth twisted into a snarl, baring rows of sharp, pointy teeth, and let out a shriek of anger. "Nasty, mortal filth!" she screeched.
Horror skittered through my bones, and a scream caught in my throat as she lunged off the ground at me. Her curled fingers, like claws, aimed for my eyes. I stumbled backward and tripped over a rock, hitting the ground on my back hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
My chest spasmed as I tried to suck in air for a scream, and the faery girl leapt on me like a giant spider, wrapping her tiny hands around my throat.

Author Bio:

H.G. Lynch is a Paranormal Romance author from Scotland. She is an avid reader, and cat-lover. She spends most of her days writing, while wrestling her cat off her laptop. She loves horse-riding, Star Trek, and snow.

Her books are dark paranormal romances.