BOOK REVIEW: Bared Magic by Sara R. Cleveland #fantasyromance #bookreview @shcleveland

Siphons are rare creatures, supposedly born of the union of human and fae blood. How she got her ability doesn’t much matter to Wynne; all she knows is it’s a death sentence or worse if the wrong people find out about her gift. It’s too bad she was never very good at minding her own business.

An old curse grows stronger, leaving Callum Bertram sleepless and desperate. He thinks he’s found a temporary solution until a pretty young woman accidentally uses up his sleeping charm. Now, this werebear suddenly finds himself craving something more than a good night’s sleep.

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MY REVIEW – 5 stars

Magic, werebeasts, and an adventure full of danger, fighting, and romance will keep you flipping the pages …

Wynne only wants to escape and live a quiet life. No more running from people who want to control her. Then she meets a werebear who will change her life forever. Callum and Wynne have so much chemistry. I loved how gentle he was with her, and his devotion was heartwarming.

If you’re looking for a book with steamy scenes, a completely besotted bear, and a woman who would deny her own happiness to keep him safe, then look no further. Bared Magic is a fabulous read that will hook you from page one!

*Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book via Booksprout and am voluntarily leaving a review.

Book Tour: Sounds Like Love by Laura Ford #YoungAdult #contemporaryromance @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #YARomance

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Welcome to the book tour for Sounds Like Love, a clean contemporary YA romance by Laura Ford!

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Sounds Like Love

Publication Date: July 29th, 2021

Genre: YA/ Romance/ Clean YA

Wendy is a bright spark who wants to find love and travel the world, but she questions how her dreams can become a reality as her world changes around her.

When Wendy arrives at her beloved grandmother’s house to collect a box of keepsakes, she picks up more than she bargained for – a green-eyed tabby cat with amazing qualities. This is just the start of a high-speed adventure, leading Wendy towards bright new horizons… if only she’ll give the cat a chance…

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Excerpt

As Wendy got up, something at the window caught her eye again. It was the cat – looking sad as she gazed in through the window. Her coat was beginning to get wet as light rain started to fall outside. Wendy felt a change inside of her. Suddenly she wasn’t thinking about how she felt anymore; she was wondering how the cat was feeling – she felt compassion for the cat. All through her childhood she had disliked cats because her parents had paraded them in front of her and it had made her feel second best. But now, this cat was looking for a friend. How could Wendy hope for people to understand her when she wasn’t trying to understand this cat?

“Empathy,” Wendy said out loud to herself. “That’s what the world needs. More empathy.”

Wendy walked towards the window and the cat looked up at her longingly. Her brown tabby coat was beginning to look almost black as the rain soaked it through, and her green eyes shone through the dim light, as though alight from within. She looked into Wendy’s eyes and Wendy looked back at her, really looked at her now, and saw the cat’s delicate face looking back, hoping to make friends. She noticed, for the first time, the cat’s white whiskers, her little pink nose, and the green collar that Grandma had given her.

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About the Author

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Laura Ford writes novels, short stories and poems across a wide range of human and animal experience. As Laura is an avid cat lover, a number of special felines tend to find their way into Laura’s stories as well.

Laura graduated with an honours degree in British law while also writing fiction in parallel. Now based in California with her husband and two beguiling Siamese cats, Laura most enjoys using her imagination and memories to paint vivid stories. An avid traveler and seeker, Laura is always exploring new concepts for more stories to come.

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Book Tour Schedule

November 29th

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

Books + Coffee = Happiness (Spotlight) https://bookscoffeehappiness.com/

@bookscoffeehappiness – https://www.instagram.com/bookscoffeehappiness/

Latisha’s Low-Key Life (Spotlight) https://latishaslowkeylife.com/

@bookloverleah (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/bookloverleah/

November 30th

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

Nesie’s Place (Spotlight) https://nesiesplace.wordpress.com

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

December 1st

@louturnspages (Review) https://www.instagram.com/louturnspages/

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Read & Rated (Spotlight) https://readandrated.com/

December 2nd

Rambling Mads (*Review Out of Tour) http://ramblingmads.com

Dash Fan Book Reviews (Review) https://dashfan81.blogspot.com/

The Faerie Review (Review) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

December 3rd

@my_books_and_coffee (Review) https://www.instagram.com/my_books_and_coffee/

Eyerolling Dem-God Blog (Spotlight) https://eyerollingdemigod.blogspot.com/

Misty’s Book Space (Spotlight) http://mistysbookspace.wordpress.com

Sophril Reads (Spotlight) http://sophrilreads.wordpress.com

*Reviewing out of tour – Really wanted to read it but couldn’t for this week!

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Release Blitz: A Highland Hogmanay by Meg Mardell #LGBTQ #historicalromance #holidayromance @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

Title: A Highland Hogmanay

Series: Christmas Masquerade, Book Two

Author: Meg Mardell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/23/2021

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 37700

Genre: Historical holiday, LGBTQIA+, historical, Victorian England, holiday, Christmas, Scottish Highlands, lesbian, wlw, mistaken identity, humorous, family drama, interracial, intercultural, road trip, age gap

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Description

The daughter of an Indian raja and renegade Englishwoman, Sharda Holkar, was gifted with a magnificent dowry but little say in her future. Until now. She must endure one more depressing holiday season with her controlling cousins, then she will be free to begin her emancipated life. But her discovery of a plot to marry her off to the preening son of the house has Sharda wondering if her new start should begin at once. When Sharda meets the intriguing owner of a Highland castle at a Christmas Eve masquerade, she wastes no time in forming a plan—she will escape across the Scottish border!

Finella Forbes cannot imagine why a sophisticated heiress like Sharda would even associate with someone who manages a castle for a living, let alone accompany her all the way back to the Highlands in time for the raucous celebration of Hogmanay. But a wealthy buyer is just what Balintore Castle needs. Fin is determined to prove she is just as good an estate manager as her father, but with the negligent lordly owner refusing to do his duty, she needs help fast. When mistaken assumptions jeopardise their initial attraction, Sharda and Fin will need all the mischief and magic of a Highland holiday to discover the true nature of their feelings.

Excerpt

A Highland Hogmanay
Meg Mardell © 2021
All Rights Reserved

“It’s getting quite sticky in here, isn’t it? Don’t these people perspire a lot in their ridiculous costumes? But the fools will insist upon picking characters that require false beards and headwraps and the lot. What do they expect?”

Mr Edward Pilkington watched the white-masked Pierrots and Pierrettes rotating around the Mayfair ballroom the same way he looked at everything else—right down his upturned nose. Of course, on this occasion, he might just be stopping his own mask from slipping.

“I must say, I consider it in poor taste of Lady Belleville to host such a gaudy entertainment on Christmas Eve. There’s enough blinding décor in every home and shop window without humans dressing like a bunch of tinsel ornaments.”

Sharda thought the display of Venetian masks in gold, silver, and red rather complemented the miles of glittering white ribbon their hostess had threaded around her every enormous window and door. But five days of Edward’s persistent company had taught her to neither agree nor disagree with his frequent judgements as both fanned the flames of his perpetual dissatisfaction.

“Perhaps you now see, Miss Holkar, the wisdom of my selection of attire. A simple mask and fancywork vest, and perhaps a sash, is really all that is required on these occasions.”

“For women as well as men?”

Sharda’s costume took its inspiration from the opulent carnival style of Venetian women from the height of that city’s pomp and power two centuries back. Her square-necked black silk gown cut away to a blaze of scarlet underskirt. Tiny stitched-in crystals covered the tight scarlet front bodice as well as her matching silk hat. Jutting out over one eye, the bold topper terminated in a cascade of black feathers that brushed her black half mask. Edward’s mother, one of Sharda’s inexhaustible supply of second and third cousins, had tried to convince her to wear what that lady was pleased to call her “native finery.” But when Sharda had insisted on purchasing a new costume for the ball, Lavinia Pilkington had graciously conceded that the Venetian style looked well on Sharda, for “many ladies of the Italian peninsula are quite of your complexion, my dear.”

The lady’s son was equally talented at giving compliments.

“A bit of exotic finery is not amiss on a woman. Provided she’s young, of course. There’s nothing more displeasing than an old woman got up like the Queen of Sheba. Now, perhaps I can see if these insolent Turks of footmen have some iced sherbet. You must be awfully hot in all your…” The gentleman gestured to Sharda’s hat. “Er, not that you look to any disadvantage or are…” The gentleman sought in vain for an acceptable substitute for sweating.

Sharda suddenly wished she had selected a full mask to hide her private mirth. She should not find it so amusing when Edward remembered, too late, that he was trying to woo her. Though maybe if she did not find the clumsy courtship so funny, she might cry.

“Or perhaps you would like to take the air in the garden, Miss Holkar? And escape this dreadful crush.”

“They seem to have brought much of the garden in here, Mr Pilkington.”

She gratefully caught the crisp scent of the evergreen branches that wrapped every available railing in Lady Belleville’s house. A delicious freshness that made one forget one was in London.

“Hmm, yes, quite. But then you don’t have the same animal noises outside, of course. It’s much easier to talk.”

She had not noticed the noise of the ballroom impairing his ability to talk in the slightest. But she knew what type of conversation he had in mind. He wasn’t the first young man to try to negotiate her out onto a cool veranda.

“Perhaps I would like an ice, Mr Pilkington. If you would be so kind.”

“Yes, of course… Though it will be a dreadful ordeal making my way over to the refreshment area now… No matter. I will see that you get your ice…my lady.”

Sharda took a few calming inhales of the pine-and-wood-polish scent of the Belleville townhouse. Now she could face Lavinia Pilkington, a spare lady fluffed up with a great deal of feathers, descending upon her beside a very grand person in purple.

“Here she is, Lady Belleville. I thought we should have to send some of your splendid footmen in search.”

“That might have proved difficult. I have my own runaway to locate, Mrs Pilkington. My wretched nephew.”

Lavinia trilled a nervous laugh, unable to tell if this was a joke.

“This is my young friend, Miss Sharda Holkar, who is staying the holidays with us. Sharda, meet Lady Belleville.”

“I do like your hat, Miss Holkar. You need a bit of height for such a topper. I, alas, have always extended out rather than up. I do envy women who can carry off such plumage. You are enjoying the ball?”

“Yes, indeed, ma’am.”

“And you’ve been dancing?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh dear, I do like young people to dance.”

“Do not worry, your ladyship. I am sure my son Edward will do the honours soon.”

“Excellent. Now, you must excuse me, for I hear my dear husband’s growl even now. I should make at least a half-hearted attempt to save my guests from his best Scrooge impersonation, should I not?”

Sharda and her cousin each dipped a curtsy—Lavinia’s embarrassingly low—to their hostess as she moved back into the crowd like the prow of a ship easily carving a path through lesser crafts. Sharda was left stranded on an island of two.

“I do hope you truly intend to dance as you promised Lady Belleville. And what did you think of her ladyship? Quite a superior person, I think, but Edward says she wears too many jewels for true breeding. I only wish I had such a problem! Whatever is taking Edward so long, do you think?”

Lavinia had a fidgety manner that made it impossible to relax in her company. After nearly a week as her guest, Sharda was almost as high-strung as her hostess. The prospect of enduring even another five minutes with this wearisome woman was unbearable. Especially as her only reward would be to eat a melted ice and then dance in Edward Pilkington’s sticky grip.

“He promised me he would return very soon. Perhaps I might wait for him in the garden, Mrs Pilkington?”

Lavinia’s eyes glittered behind her feathered mask.

“Ah, yes, that would be an excellent idea. It is far too noisy and hot in here.”

“Should you like to come with me, cousin?”

“Oh, no. No, no. I declare I see my dear friend Mrs, er…Bamtree just over there. But you go right ahead, my dear.”

Sharda needed no further encouragement.

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Meet the Author

Meg moved from the US to England because she fell in love with the Victorians’ peculiar blend of glamour and grime. After a decade of exploring historical excesses in a prim scholarly fashion, she realized that fiction is the best way to delve into that period’s great female-focused and LGBT+ stories. Weaned on the high-seas romances of the 1990s, Meg’s lost none of her love for cross-dressing cabin boys but any tolerance for boorish heroes. She’s delighted to now have a whole raft of quirky and queer characters to cheer for on their quest for Happily Ever After. She frequently breaks off writing for an Earl Grey tea (milk not lemon). She’s trying to learn Polish and Portuguese at the same time. She plans to escape Brexit Britain.

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New at Changeling Press: Bite Me for Christmas by Megan Slayer #holidayromance #vampires #urbanfantasy @meganslayer

Rachael isn’t good at magic, and she’s not versed in life, but this witch wants to lay her hands on the sexy vampire who’s come to her in her dreams. She wants just one thing for Christmas wish — her vampire.

Gavin wants the witch in his dreams, but he doesn’t believe he’s worthy of her. Part of him wants to devour her magic and save himself, but what if being saved doesn’t involve dying?

Anything is possible with a little Christmas magic.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

How had she managed to summon a vampire?

Christmas lights bathed the room in a rainbow of color. Tinsel glittered around her window, and the tiny Christmas tree turned in small revolutions on her dresser. She was in her room and safe.

She was also a witch who not only believed in the creatures of the night, but also in Christmas. Krampus could haunt her, too. She was a conundrum mixed with confusion.

She sighed. If she wanted the vampire to come to her in person, she’d have to appeal to a higher power. Her sisters wouldn’t help and would probably try to steal him away, if they didn’t kill him first. Krampus hated her because she wasn’t bad enough. Clumsy, yes. Prone to mistakes? Sure. But bad? No. The only shot she had was Santa.

Damn.

Santa didn’t pay the coven much mind. It didn’t matter if she put out milk and cookies for him or that she believed he existed. If she existed and so did Krampus, why couldn’t Santa? Belief wasn’t enough. Santa wasn’t coming down her chimney.

Still, she could ask and believe.

She left her bed and ventured over to the window. Santa might not listen, but she had to try. Christmas was in two days, and she had a Christmas wish. If anyone could come through for her, it was Santa.

She held onto the windowsill. She hated being interrupted before she reached orgasm, but she needed her vampire to be there so she could. He mattered. Him being real mattered.

“Dear Santa, I should write a letter, but this seems faster. I could conjure you, but if I did, I’d probably give you four heads or turn you into a dragon by accident. Anyway, I’m tired of getting three-fourths of the way to climax and not being able to finish. Why? I know this seems like a strange thing to mention, but I’m trying to have sex in my dreams — which isn’t as good as the real thing — and it’s with a vampire. He could kill me, but I’m drawn to him. I don’t know who he is, Santa, but I want him. My Christmas wish is for the vampire in my dreams to come to me in real life. He might destroy me, but he might be what I need, and I want to find out. I accept the risk. Please, fulfill my Christmas wish and put a vampire under my tree.”

She swore she heard other voices and paused. Damn it. Her sisters must still be awake downstairs and heard her moving. If they did, they’d want her to get to work on whatever chore they’d found. They treated her like a fucking servant.

“Are you awake?” Serena, her oldest sister, called. “Rachael? If you’re awake, then there’s a sink full of dishes that need done.”

“It’s too early for her to be up,” Millie, her other sister, said. “She’s not awake. You’re imagining things.”

How could she sleep with the noise from her sisters downstairs? They treated her like a child and servant. The only way she’d have a chance at a life of her own would be to find the vampire and run the hell away.

“Please, Santa,” Rachael said. “I want my vampire for Christmas.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

BOOK TOUR: Last Stop – Horror on Route 13 (anthology) #horror #anthology @RRBookTours1

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Today, I’m happy to share another chilling release from Eerie River Publishing, Last Stop: Horror on Route 13! Read on for my details and a chance to win a $25 Amazon e-Gift Card!

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Last Stop: Horror on Route 13

Publication Date: October 30th, 2021

Genre: Horror/ Anthology

Publisher: Eerie River

A terrifying journey into America’s forgotten regions.

You ever heard of Route Thirteen? No, not that one.
The real one.

It ain’t on no map, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who’s travelled it. I dare say this book’s the only evidence you’ll ever come across mentioning that forgotten road. Or the bar.

Goes by the name of Whiskey Pete’s.

That shiver you just felt? That’s a warning, and so’s this book. Thirteen stories of pure horror, blood-curdling violence and spectacularly bad decisions, inspired by the poor folks who fell foul of old Route Thirteen and Whiskey Pete’s.

Let this book be your warning. If you find yourself on that forsaken road, with the warming lights of Whiskey Pete’s upon your windshield, turn back. Or it’ll be your Last Stop

A shared-world anthology of dread authored by

Holley Cornetto ~ L. T. Emery ~ Peter J. Foote
J.W. Garrett ~ David Green ~ Stephen Herczeg
Abigail Linhardt ~ Beth W. Patterson ~ Lynne Phillips
Austin Shirey ~ Joshua D Taylor ~ V. A. Vazquez ~ Patrick Winters

Available on Amazon

Click the link to enter for a chance to win a $25 Amazon e-Gift Card! Giveaway closes Midnight EST on December 2nd!

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BOOK REVIEW: El Diablo by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #agegap #suspense @marteekakarland

Jezebel – Life in a gilded cage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – especially if the whole purpose of the cage is to keep me a virgin till I’m ready to be sacrificed to the man of my father’s choosing. I want out, and don’t think I haven’t tried. It’s not that easy with Daddy’s Brotherhood guards all over the place. But that doesn’t mean I want to trade one cage for another. And, let’s face it, I have no idea how to live on my own. I’ve never had the chance. Now I’m not sure I want to learn, because my new jailer – err, rescuer — is the sexiest man I’ve ever known. El Diablo’s not the monster everyone’s made him out to be. But can I tame the beast of a man without losing my heart? All I want for Christmas is a chance to find out…

El Diablo — I went hunting for a victim. Instead, I found a Christmas Angel. She’s the daughter of my enemy, used as a pawn in a deadly game of chess. All I really wanted was the Brotherhood out of Palm Beach. Instead I found an innocent who brings out a side of me I’d thought long buried and gone. But Jezebel’s younger than my own daughter, and just as much trouble. And I’m El Diablo — a title I earned heart and soul. I’m so not what she needs. And now she’s under my protection in the Black Reign compound. She should be completely off-limits. I won’t let the Brotherhood take her back and force her to give up her dreams. But who’s going to protect her from me?

WARNING: Contains explicit violence and scenes of dubious consent. As always, there is a HEA and no cliffhangers.

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MY REVIEW – 5 stars

El Diablo might be book 5 in the Black Reign MC, but it’s written in such a way you won’t be overly confused if you haven’t read the previous four books. That being said, you’ll probably enjoy it more when you know the backstory of El Diablo and some of the other characters.

El Diablo – aka Liam – has never wanted to claim a woman. Until he meets the perfect one. She’s innocent, yet daring. Everything about her intrigues him, and makes him to want to hold onto her. Talk about an over the top alpha male! El Diablo brings that and more to the table. If you like sexy older heroes, then his story is a must read!

Jezebel’s father is a monster and she’s remained somewhat sheltered most of her life. Doesn’t make her any less wild. She’s bold and ready to experience all life has to offer. I loved the way she just made herself at home when El Diablo took her back to the Black Reign compound. Seeing her interactions with the old ladies and the kids made me smile.

While there’s some holiday cheer in this story, and quite a bit of hilarity, it’s not lacking the suspense and heat you expect when you pick up a Marteeka Karland book. It’s perfect for unwinding at the end of a long day! This one is full of steam, heart-melting scenes, and those bad boy alpha men we’ve all come to love.

WHAT ARE REVIEWERS SAYING?

“OMG! He was totally worth the wait!!!! I love El Diablo & Jezebel she is the perfect match for the leader of Black Reign!” – Melissa, Goodreads

“OH MY GOSH!!!!! El Diablo is EVERYTHING you could hope he’d be. He’s HOT, HOT, HOT, FLAMING HOT!!!!!!!!” – G, Goodreads

“Wow, just wow! El Diablo is so much more than I expected. I lost myself in these characters and pages.” – Andrea, Goodreads

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

El Diablo

Sitting off in the distance next to a densely wooded area, the house looked like something out of a horror movie. Sure, the grounds were immaculate and the structure itself a beautiful, Gothic architecture, but with the trees bare of leaves and the full moon hovering above it with a halo of fog around it, not to mention the tall, imposing fencing with razor wire surrounding it… Yeah. The place could have been an asylum in a slasher film.

From what I’d found out from Drago and Pretty Boy, the girl I had been searching for was being held in this house. Had been in this house her entire life. Not just living there. By all accounts, she’d never once left it.

“No change, Liam,” El Segador — the Reaper — said to me on our personal line. He was one of a very few people who knew my real name. Mainly because we’d grown up together, and he’d willingly followed me for close to thirty years. “She’s still on the upper floor. West wing. Giovanni swears he got it right, and that there’s a tracker on her person.”

“Very well. Is there any way to get in and contain her before we breach the house from below?”

“Negative. Security equipment’s too sensitive. You can go up the side of the house and breach from the roof, but Giovanni says the only viable entrance opens up two rooms away from her. You’ll still have to navigate the hallway, which is probably full of Malcolm’s men.”

“That’s my entry. You come up from below and eliminate as many as you can… quietly. If I need a distraction, you call in the boys, and you’re it.”

“Copy that.”

I switched to the team channel. “It’s a go. El Segador and I will enter first. Other than that, follow the plan.”

“Not comfortable with that, boss,” Archangel keyed in. “Everyone agreed I should take point. Besides, Samson will kill my ass if you come back with so much as a scratch. I know, ‘cause he told me so.”

“I’ll endeavor to appease Samson’s delicate sensibilities,” I replied dryly. While I trusted my club with my life, I wasn’t willing to take the chance the girl was out and about in the house. Or that she could sneak out of her room. Drago had spoken highly of her intelligence and skill. While he’d been able to speak, that is. The fewer of us in the house until she was in my custody, the less likely it was there would be accidents.

“Going on the record I’m objecting strenuously to this. Something happens and El Diablo gets hurt, you motherfuckers better back me up,” Archangel replied crossly.

On any other occasion I’d have taken pity on him and let him lead the mission. Or El Segador. But this was too important. I let my club do many things in the guise of safeguarding me. Only because it pleased them, and I was willing to give a little and look weak if it made them happy. Every single one of them was more than capable, so, as long as the risk was acceptable, I indulged them. They always did what I asked of them to the best of their abilities. It was the least I could do when none of them asked for anything. Typically, I had to force on them their heart’s desires. This, however, was different. Malcolm was a fierce opponent, one I knew almost as well as I knew El Segador. I didn’t want to risk my brothers on someone so unpredictable without knowing exactly where the bastard was and how much he was expecting from me.

“I got your six,” Hardcase spoke up. I could detect the faintest amount of humor in his voice. “For all the good it will do you.” There were chuckles over the radio as throat mics were activated with the sound.

“If you are all finished, El Segador and I would appreciate it if you kept an eye out. Let us know if any surprises are coming our way. Particularly if it’s in the form of a small woman. Aye?”

“Eyes open, mouths closed,” Archangel said. Immediately the chatter stopped and the operation began.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Book Tour: Temptation by Bailey B. #contemporaryromance @Baileybauthor

Temptation

by Bailey B.

Genre: Contemporary Romance

I’ve sworn off men forever!

Okay, not forever but for a few months. After my last hook up, my vag needs a reset because the last man to touch me broke it in the worst of ways. Not a problem, until my new dance partner comes into the picture. He’s turning into my forbidden fruit, tempting me in ways I didn’t know possible.

I have three months of celibacy ahead of me and eight weeks to whip my new dance partner into shape.

Someone save me.

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temptationbaileyb - excerpt

The world spins behind closed lids. It’s a good spin, unrelated to the alcohol I drank. I peek one eye open and run my hand down the center of his thigh. “How tired are you?”

Carter’s eyebrows shoot up. This is a bad idea, but I don’t care. If I regret it in the morning, I’ll blame the alcohol, but tonight I want to have fun.

“Suddenly, I’m feeling wide awake.” He turns his head, looking into my eyes, and cups my cheek.

I lean into his hand, so big and strong.

“I thought you just wanted to be friends?” he whispers, his nose brushing against my other cheek.

“Not tonight,” I tell him truthfully. Celibacy be damned, I want to feel Carter between my legs. I have a gut feeling that this time will be worlds better than the last. “Tonight, I wanna be just you and me. Whatever else we are is fine too.”

“Perfect.” He presses his mouth against mine. I fall into his lips, that tongue making my insides melt.

“Whoo, hooo! Get it girl!” Benny yells and I swear I could throat punch him.

Carter laughs and pulls back resting his forehead against mine. “Maybe we can finish this in the room tonight.”

“Yes!” I say, not at all embarrassed by my enthusiasm. “Definitely.”

Bailey B is an up and coming New Adult author. She lives in Lehigh Acres Florida with her husband, twin girls, and two fur babies. She enjoys (but doesn’t get to take part in because of her crazy daughters) the simple things like Disney+ binge watching, Netflix romcoms, reading and sleeping. She reads two to three books a week and thinks if narwhal’s are real animals then unicorns might be too.

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SPOTLIGHT: More than Fine by Jenni Bara #holidayromance #contemporaryromance @Jenniferbbar3

She’s running from her past, he’s hiding from the world when suddenly their lives collide.

Trish Biltman has spent the last two years evading a past she fears. Tucked away in a small seaside Jersey town, with her two young children, her life is simple. Until the day a photo from her best friend’s highly publicized wedding shows up on Page 6, and she finds herself once again on the run trying to keep her family safe.

Since his divorce, Grant Evans has focused his time and attention on his secluded Pennsylvania farm. His solitary life is fine, until the quiet, brown-eyed Trish and her adorable—but loud—kids need somewhere to go. Since his farm is their only option Grant reluctantly opens his doors to them.

Both Trish and her kids begin to thaw the ice that held Grant’s heart captive for years as he teaches her to trust again.  But the darkness from her past comes back, threatening their relationship, just as Grant starts to believe life can be

More than Fine.

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EXCERPT

 “I thought you’d be up at five. I was trying to have everything ready for you,” Trish said, turning back to hurry through whatever she was stirring.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said. Trish glanced back at him before turning away again quickly, almost like she felt guilty. “Do you think you need to make me breakfast?”

Her head shot around, but she didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I told you last night I’d eat any time you made food, but I didn’t mean it to be an obligation,” he explained.

She shook her head, and Grant waited while she thought. Trish was slower to answer questions, but if he didn’t rush her, she’d eventually reply. Her brow ruffled, and then her head cocked to the side before she finally looked back at him.

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” There was an open honesty in her statement. She wasn’t buttering him up, and she wasn’t looking for something in return. She was selflessly doing something for someone else. Grant’s chest panged at the difference between this and what he was used to experiencing. She paused again and looked down. “And I wanted to say I’m sorry for running from you last night. It’s just…” She paused again, and her teeth sank into her lush bottom lip. Finally, she looked up and said, “My side hurts,” as if she was apologizing.

“Well, you got cut open and parts of you were taken out, so it should,” Grant said, his eyes drifting to her side, to the exact spot his hand had touched. Then something occurred to him. The way she’d have to twist to change the bandage herself would probably cause her more pain. “Have you been able to clean or change your bandage?”

She swallowed and shook her head.

“Trish,” he sighed. It had been two days, and he knew it should be changed daily. “Can you pause breakfast? And by that, I mean if you take ten minutes off from cooking, will it still taste like heaven?” He sent her a smile to reassure her he wasn’t mad, but wanted to help.

“It’s basically done; if I turn it down, it can simmer.”

He nodded and took a step toward her. “Then can I please change the bandage for you?”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“I know.” He took two steps closer to her. They were now only an arm’s length apart. “And you’re not.”

She finally nodded, and he took the final step to her. He could touch her now, he could smell the sweet scent of her skin, but he didn’t move closer. He waited until she looked at him again, making sure she was comfortable.

When she met his eyes, he asked, “Can I lift you up onto the counter?”

He watched her brain start to tick, trying to figure out how she could jump or lift herself. Her lips tightened to a straight line as the realization passed through her: She couldn’t. Finally, she met his eyes again with a small nod.

Gradually, he reached out toward her waist, giving her plenty of time to stop him, but she didn’t. His palms hit the soft fuzz of the flannel first, then his hands came to rest on ample female hips. He slowly lifted her weight and sat her on the counter before stepping between her legs.

His hands rose deliberately, undoing the buttons of her shirt. One. Two. As each button came open, more of the curve of breast and the pinch of her waist in the fitted white tank top came into view. Three. This was killing him. Four. The flannel opened, revealing the body she always hid.

He met her eyes, and the air buzzed around them. He lifted his hand and, painfully slowly, he pushed the red and black material off her shoulder. Goosebumps broke out across all of the soft peachy skin he revealed. He swallowed and glanced back up to her eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize how cold it is in here,” he allowed.

She shook her head and took her arm out of the sleeve. He quickly got what he needed so he could move back to her. Careful not to cause her any pain, he raised the white tank top just enough to reveal the bandage he needed to remove. He peeled the tape cautiously, watching her skin pebble with additional goosebumps, until it finally gave way. He looked at the black stitches, all ten of them, that cut into her soft skin. He watched his hands work, but he could feel her eyes on his face. Grant frowned at the harsh red skin still swelling around every black piece of thread. No wonder his soft touch made her eyes water.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. Those giant brown orbs rimmed by thick dark lashes watched him with such open trust it caused a weird, painful crack in the armor surrounding his heart.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Even as a young child Jenni Bara would conjure up all kinds of tales with her endless imagination. She’s improved her skills since the days of scaring her younger cousins with ghost stories, but her love for books and stories has never changed. 


In her everyday life, she is a paralegal for family law writing unhappily ever afters for people every day. So in turn she spends her free time with anything that keeps her laughing including life with her four kids, or five if you count her husband!

All joking aside she is blessed to have not only a very supportive husband but super supportive parents as well as a loving extended family always happy to share their opinions! 

Her favorites spots all have the best views of the sunsets and she loves to share the views through photos. 

She just began her career as a romance author writing books full of life, love, and laughter. 

Find out more about Jenni and her books HERE.

Book Tour: Rain City Lights by Marissa Harrison #mystery #newadult #RRBookTours #RainCityLights @marissa_hrrsn @RRBookTours1

Welcome to the book tour for Rain City Lights by Marissa Harrison! Read on for more details!

Rain-City-Lights-Cover Image

Rain City Lights

Publication Date: October 1st, 2021 (Hardcover Edition)

Genre: NA/ NA Mystery

Coming of age and mystery blend in this stark, yet atmospheric tale of love and loss. A young woman is pushed onto the streets where she learns the harsh realities of what it means to survive, to serve justice, and to fight for the man she loves. As they navigate their way through Seattle’s Underground, Monti & Sasha will break and warm your heart!

In the summer of 1981, a serial killer preys on black, teenage prostitutes working Seattle’s arterial highways. But the eyes of youth are blind to danger, and Montgomery “Monti” Jackson is distracted by her own problems. She’ll be starting high school soon, and the return of her mother’s boyfriend heightens the tension in her fractured household.

To add to her worries, Monti fears she may be in love with her best friend Sasha. But as close as they’d once been, now they couldn’t feel further apart. Sasha is a burnout punk rocker, and has befriended the neighborhood drug dealer. And when an eviction notice is posted on Monti’s door, a strange dynamic forms between them.

One night, an altercation leaves her family penniless. So Monti turns to the very streets where a killer stalks and ensnares young women, beginning her journey towards understanding one, simple truth – sometimes your only choices in life are to love and survive.

Rain City Lights is a gritty, urban love story that explores how poverty, addiction and abuse is passed from one generation to the next.

Trigger Warnings: Adult content and some violence

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Prologue

Christmas Eve, 1972

The rain pelt so hard it sprang up from the porch like bullets. The detective removed his hat, water dripping down his face, hiding tears but for his red-rimmed eyes. He couldn’t help crying, after what he had seen and for the scene before him. The Christmas tree lit with multi-colored lights and draped with silver tinsel. The cookies on the mantle. Frank Sinatra crooning “Jingle Bells” from the record player. And a small boy wearing red pajamas. These were the reasons the detective wiped his nose like a baby, and steeled himself to bear the bad news.

* * *

Mikael Sasha Coen already knew why the detective had come. Someone once said he could smile with only his big, blue eyes. He tried this by focusing his eyes hard into the sadness that seemed to hunch the detective’s shoulders. He curved the corners of his mouth upward just a little. It was enough to make the detective smile back.

“He should leave the room,” the detective said.

Daan shook his head. “The sooner he gets used to hearing bad news, the better.” The detective scratched his sideburn.

“Mr. Coen, I’m so sorry to say this, tonight of all nights. But there’s been an accident. Your wife’s car went over the Ballard Bridge. She didn’t make it.”

Daan Coen keeled over and keened, a sound more piercing than nails dragged against a chalkboard. The detective described what happened. The grates were slick. His wife had been speeding to beat the drawbridge, raised to let a party yacht into the Fremont canal. She skidded and lost control. Daan sobbed and asked the Lord why. But Mikael thought he knew that, too.

After a moment, Daan asked,

“But wouldn’t she have seen the warning lights? Wouldn’t the gate have dropped? I don’t understand how this could happen.”

The detective pursed his lips. He spoke in the way adults sometimes did that made Mikael feel as if he’d been naughty.

“Not here,” the detective said.

Mikael watched from the porch as Daan left to identify the body. He’d promised to stay with one of the neighbors that lived in the apartment units of The Bridgewater. As Mikael turned, he heard a chattering sound, and it drew his attention to the stoop next door. A young girl sat with her head

pushed between her knees, her body rocking back and forth and her arms enclosing her shivering shins.

“What’re you doing? It’s raining,” he said.

“No shit,” she muttered. “I’m locked out.”

“Why?” He bit his lip. “Also, you shouldn’t talk like that. My dad says bad words send people to hell.”

The girl didn’t answer. When she looked up, he saw the gray eyes of a feral cat ready to scram into the city gutters.

Mikael walked inside and turned up the music. He took the cookies from the mantle and went back to the porch, holding them in the rain, in view of the girl.

“Want a cookie?”

“I’m fine. My mom is coming soon.”

“You want to help me open my presents?”

The girl shrugged and stared at her knees.

Mikael sighed and stomped back to the Christmas tree. He moved the gifts from beneath the tree, one by one, into his bedroom. He knew the girl would come out of the rain soon. No kid could resist Christmas presents. On each trip to the tree he passed a photo of his mother. It was the kind with two faces, one of the smiling front and the other a profile. The two-faced photo was ghoulish, and each time he passed it became harder to look at because of the goosebumps that tickled his arm. He didn’t want to open presents in front of the ghost that had once been his mother.

Mikael waited on his bedroom floor. The music blared from the living room, but over the smooth, velvet voice of Sinatra came the soft pattering of uncertain footsteps.

“I’m in here,” Mikael called.

The girl appeared in the open doorway of his bedroom.

“Hi,” Mikael said.

Her eyes were glued to the presents.

“Where are your parents?” she asked.

“My mom is dead. My dad went to see her.”

“What happened?”

“A car accident.”

He sniffled and pushed the presents towards her.

“Here. You can have them all.”

He handed her a football wrapped in gold paper, something he never wanted. Mikael’s father wanted it for him, in the same way Daan wanted other things. Be a good, Christian man. Don’t cry. Stand up straight. Don’t tell lies.

The girl tore the paper from the gift, filling the silence with the sound of shredding paper. Her eyes sparkled. She tossed the football in her hands as if it was something she was made to do.

“My name is Montgomery. But you should call me Monti. I’m seven.”

“My name is Mikael.” He paused, thinking of his Norwegian grandfather for whom he was named, a strict Lutheran who built the walls that enclosed them now. It was a name his father wanted for him.

“But you should call me Sasha. I’m seven and a half.”

Monti shoved an entire cookie into her mouth. She smiled, showing the crumbs stuck between the gap in her front teeth.

“Why aren’t you sad?”

“I was sad yesterday,” he said. “My mom said goodbye yesterday.”

She took another cookie and ogled the rest of the gifts.

“I can’t take your presents.”

“Yes you can. I don’t want them.”

She sputtered cookie crumbs from her mouth.

“Why the hell not! I’d kill for this many toys.”

“They’re from my dad. And he’s the reason my mom’s gone.” He picked another gift and laid it in her lap. “Also, you shouldn’t swear.”

She nodded, as though everything he’d said made perfect sense. He felt very brave next to her, so he whispered through clenched teeth,

“I hate my dad.”

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About the Author

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Marissa Harrison is the author of her debut novel, Rain City Lights. She began her career by reading as many books as she could get her hands on, and would fondly wander the aisles of her neighborhood Target to pick the hottest reads for her enjoyment and education. She caught the bus from her job in Downtown Seattle to take classes and workshops offered around the city, and eventually completed her first novel during the early morning hours while watching the trains roll by from her apartment window. She is an avid reader of mysteries, true crime, and heart wrenching love stories, and explores these themes in her own writing.

In her spare time Marissa enjoys running, hiking, dramatic miniseries’ and a great glass of wine. She lives in Seattle with her husband and four guinea pigs.

Marissa Harrison | Twitter | Instagram

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Book Blitz: Dating Dracula by Kinsley Adams #RomCom #ParanormalRomance @XpressoTours

Dating Dracula
Kinsley Adams
(Dating Monsters, #1)
Publication date: March 15th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Paranormal, Romance

The Legend. The Immortal. My… Boyfriend?

You know, I really only had two goals in life:

1) Unearth the truth about vampires and,
2) Become hella famous.

Nowhere on that list did I have “die” or “get turned into a bloodsucker.” But guess what? Life doesn’t always go according to plan. Now, thanks to an unfortunate back-alley encounter, I’m the newest member of the undead country club (fangs, coffin, and all). And my savior? Sire? Whatever…

Freaking. Dracula. Himself.

Even stranger, he claims I’m his mate. Like… eternal love. But come on! I don’t have time for that. Not only do I need to track down my attempted murderer, but I also need to learn how to be a vampire. Falling in love is the last thing on my mind right now.

Too bad Dracula has other plans for me.

***

Fans of Dracula will love this new modern and chic take on the immortal legend himself. Scroll up and one-click now!

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EXCERPT:

“I’m sorry,” she whispered with her back still to me. “I just…. You died, Anna. You’re dead.”

“Undead,” my savior clarified for like the third time.

“It’s still dead!” Lucy snapped.

Even I glared at him. Now wasn’t the time for his little comments.

“I—I don’t know how to handle all this. Do I grieve for you? Or celebrate the fact that you’re still walking around? You’re a vampire, Anna. For frick’s sake, do you know what that means? You drink blood, you sleep in a coffin… you aren’t you anymore. How am I supposed to handle this?”

My dead heart shattered. “You’re supposed to accept me as I am,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “We’re sisters. Always. Forever.”

“Except always and forever means two very different things to us now,” she said.

I forced myself to swallow. From the sounds of it, Lucy was breaking up with me. Which almost made me laugh. She was my longest relationship ever. And she wanted to walk away from it? All because of an accident I had no control over?

I ran a hand down my face and turned toward my savior. Someone whose name I really needed to learn. I couldn’t keep referring to him as my savior or I was going to develop some major hero worship issues.

“Anna, I’m sorry,” Lucy repeated. “But I think I need some time to process all this.”

I nodded, all the while keeping my gaze trained on my savior. He was the only thing keeping me calm right now. The thought that I might lose my best friend over all this was too much. I couldn’t show her how much this hurt, because if I did, I might never recover. Lucy had stormed into a vamp club at my side, but apparently, she drew the line at death.

And honestly? I didn’t blame her. This time, tears really did spring to my eyes, but I blinked them back before they spilled. If I started crying, I had a feeling I’d never stop.

“I’m going to head back to the hotel,” she said. “I’ve been staying there the past few nights.” Wait, what? Past few nights? But before I could question that little tidbit, she continued speaking. “Do you want me to call your parents for you? Explain what happened?”

“No,” I rasped. That wasn’t her responsibility. If anyone was going to tell them about my transformation, it would be me.

“I’ll text you,” she mumbled, but her voice was already fading. She was leaving.

Text me. Ugh. Why not just tell me you hope we can still be friends?

I hated this. What happened to best friends forever? I’d like to think that if this had happened to her, I’d still be standing by her side. Lucy was my world. Nothing could have convinced me to leave her.

“I’m sorry” was her final comment before I heard the door shut.

I took a few minutes to absorb everything. Thankfully, my savior let me brood in silence. I appreciated that. I wasn’t in the mood to hear platitudes right now.

Once I was sure I had schooled my expression, I turned toward him and nodded. It was embarrassing to have someone witness a break-up, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that now.

I needed a distraction. I didn’t want to think about Lucy right now. I’d reserve that for later, when I was alone and could process everything myself. Instead, I stared up at him, once again stricken speechless when our gazes met. Why did I find him so enthralling? So fascinating? It felt like I could stare at him for hours.

Clearing my throat, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and asked, “Well, do you have a name?”

His brows shot upward, and an amused smile claimed his lips, exposing the tips of his fangs. Intrigued, I reached for my own, poking them with my fingertip. They must have been what scraped my tongue earlier. Seemed they were a permanent fixture too. I’d have to remember that when talking and laughing. Vampires might be public knowledge now, but as seen by Lucy, humans weren’t one hundred percent ready to accept them yet.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice deliciously rumbly. “I’m so accustomed to being recognized wherever I go that I often forget to introduce myself.”

So, he was like vampire royalty or something?

Fangs still peeking out from behind his lips, he gave an old-fashioned bow, one he executed flawlessly, then peered at me through long, dark lashes. I shit you not, the boy almost breathed life back into me. He was just that gorgeous.

“My name is Vlad.” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips before brushing a gentle kiss across my knuckles. “But most know me as Dracula.”

I wish I could say I absorbed that information with grace and poise. But that would have been a lie. Instead, I burst out laughing, and said, “No shit!”

Author Bio:

Kinsley Adams is a thirty-something-year-old author who stopped counting when she turned twenty-five. When she isn’t writing uproariously hilarious romantic comedies, she’s raising her womb-gremlin with the hopes that he might one day become the world’s first Supreme Leader.

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