Throwback Thursday: A Gift of the Darkest Magic by Ashlynn Monroe #vampires #PNR #eroticromance #darkromance #TBT @ashlynn_monroe

Would you be willing to betray the person you love in order to save their life?

Clarissa’s husband Matt is dying of cancer. They’ve tried everything that medicine has to offer, both traditional and experimental, and nothing’s worked. Clarissa spends her days in the hospital, watching the man she loves slip closer and closer to certain death.

When her sister tells her she knows a way to save Matt, but it involves visiting a local club run by vampires, Clarissa is outraged that her sister would believe something so insane. But then she learns the truth.

Braden, the sexy and mysterious vampire who runs the club, does indeed have the means to save Matt, but he demands a high payment in return. He doesn’t want money, her blood, or even her life…he wants something she never expected. Clarissa has a choice—spend twenty-four hours in Braden’s bed or let her husband die.

But what she never foresaw was how much more the vampire would truly want after he’d given her the gift of the darkest magic.

Content Warning: infidelity, light bondage, anal sex, and rough sex

 

Available at Beachwalk Press

 

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(c) 2012, Ashlynn Monroe

The quiet drip of the IV and the occasional bleep of the monitor were the only sounds in the dim hospital room. Clarissa Blair held the cold hand of her husband, Matthew. Matt’s diagnosis of cancer, just after Christmas, had been a horrible surprise. His condition rapidly deteriorated. The vibrant forty-year-old lay reduced to a thin husk, wasting away in the small room on the fourth floor of Mercy General Hospital. Clarissa could only wait and mourn quietly. She’d tried to hide her pain and stay positive for Matt, but it was getting harder to pretend as he slipped closer to the end of his life.

Their twin seven-year-old daughters spent a lot of time with her mother. She didn’t want them to remember their father as the corpse she saw each day when she came to the hospital after work. Her life was a cycle of working and grieving. She knew the girls missed her, but she just didn’t have the strength to be there for them and keep up with the day-to-day battle of holding herself together. Matt was leaving them.

The sound of the door opening roused her from the dark, sad thoughts. She stood up and hugged the visitor. “Hi, sis.”

Caren, her younger sister, breezed into the room smelling of sunshine and fresh air, in contrast to the stale stench of death she’d come to associate with her husband’s hospital room. “How is he today?”

Her sister’s sadness only added to the weight in Clarissa’s heart. “About the same. The nurse said last night was tough, but he pulled through. He’s a strong fighter.” She knew the last words sounded bitter. He was the strongest man she’d ever known; she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t beat the disease ravaging him. His once handsome face was pale and sunken. Her Matt had left long ago, leaving the dying man in his place. Her Matt would never have abandoned her and their daughters as this man was doing.

For a long moment, Caren looked into her face. She knew Caren wanted to say something, but was holding back.

“Go ahead and say what’s on your mind. You’re always so afraid of saying something that’ll make me cry. I’m past that stage now. Just talk, you’re irritating me.” She knew her shrill statement bordered on cruel, but she didn’t care. What was the use of pleasantries when her whole life was over and she’d never be happy again?

“Sorry, sweetie,” Caren whispered, laying a gentle hand on Clarissa’s shoulder.

The simple act of kindness tore at her soul, making her want to lash out again. She shrugged off her sister’s caring touch. The unwavering love in the deep turquoise eyes, the same shade as her own, sent a little stab of guilt through Clarissa. “I’m the one who should be sorry, but seriously just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Caren gave her a weak smile. “You know I love Matt too.”

Clarissa nodded. Matt had no siblings. She’d married him when Caren was still in high school and he’d taken to her sister as if she were his own. “I know.” She sighed.

“I think I know a way to save him, but I need your help,” Caren whispered.

 

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Ashlynn Monroe is a busy wife and mom. She enjoys writing about anything and everything paranormal or fantasy related.  She spends most of her time daydreaming up her next tale of romance.

Visit her website at www.ashlynnmonroe.com to learn more about the worlds she imagines.

Throwback Thursday: His Perfect Match by Jessica Coulter Smith #historical #romancebooks #TBT

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Kate Witten has never believed in love at first sight, or in Kate’s case, love at first touch. But from the moment they touch, Kate knows there’s no other man for her  than Alec Westbrooke, Earl of Lynox. How can she help but succumb to a moment’s passion when faced with such a man? But there are consequences for their one night of bliss, and Kate is determined to handle things on her own. When she disappears from Charlotte, NC. Alec tears the city apart, searching for the only woman to ever hold his heart. When he finds her, he finds more than he bargained for. Will his responsibilities to his family weigh heavy on him? Or will he give everything up for the woman he loves?

Available at Bookstrand, Amazon, and B&N

 

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
(c) 2014 Jessica Coulter Smith

“I wanted you to myself for a while,” he said.

“Alec, I… I can’t imagine why you would want to spend time with me. There’s nothing special about me.”

He urged her to sit and then sat beside her. “I beg to differ. The moment I saw you, I knew you were special. Can’t you feel it? There’s something between us.”

“Please don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because… you’re a lord and I’m…”

“My being a lord has nothing to do with this,” he interrupted. “There’s an attraction between us. You can’t deny it.”

“No,” she said softly. “I can’t deny it.”

He reached out and caressed her cheek. “How close does someone have to be before you can see them?”

Her lips tipped up in a smile. “Our noses would practically have to touch before I could see you clearly and, even then, I couldn’t make out as much detail as most people.”

He slowly moved closer, giving her time to pull away, but she didn’t want to. She knew that she should, but she found that she was fascinated by him. He came closer, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. Small details came into focus. She noticed his eyes were blue, laugh lines crinkling the corners. Lines bracketed his mouth, telling her that he smiled frequently. His lips were full and she wondered what they would feel like pressed against hers. A blush heated her cheeks as she stared into his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

“No, I’m not. I’m plain, ordinary.”

His thumb smoothed over her cheekbone. “Darling, you could never be plain.”

“Alec…” Before she could finish her sentence, he kissed her, his lips gently pressing against hers. It was the first time she’d ever been kissed, and it was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Her heart was racing as she slid her palms over his chest. Even through his shirt and jacket, she could feel his heart beating, nearly as fast as hers.

He placed his other hand at her waist and pulled her closer. Their bodies pressed together, she’d never felt so close to someone before. His lips moved softly against hers and she responded. It felt strange and yet so very right. Her body was warming from the inside out. She didn’t understand what she was feeling, but she wasn’t ready to stop kissing Alec.

 

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Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child, writing her first stories in crayon. Today, she’s a multi-published author of over 150 novellas/novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

Find Jessica online at jessicacoultersmith.com or follow her on BookBub or Amazon to hear about new releases!

Without Condition by Lynn Burke #Contemporary #MayDecember #EroticRomance #NewRelease @AuthorLynnBurke

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Without Condition

Sandy Ridge 3

By Lynn Burke

Heat Level: 4

Release Date: November 14, 2018

Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, May December, Series, HEA, Novella

*Be warned: Anal sex, spanking

Nothing but Kayla’s fingers and not-so-trusty vibrator have given her an orgasm in almost a year, and the one man she’s hell-bent on breaking her losing streak hides behind his badge. Detective “Hottie Pants” Ford thwarts her every attempt at seduction, and even though vandalisms, a trashed apartment, and physical assault keeps throwing them together, he refuses to attempt a relationship ever again.

She sees past his façade into the man hiding his pain behind unbreakable rules and inflexible conditions, but even after the fiery chemistry between them ignites, she struggles to prove to him she is nothing like the woman who jaded him for life.

Heartbroken, Kayla decides on a vacation to help her peace of mind—and ends up at Sandy Ridge. With danger hot on her heels, can the man she turns to first recognize Kayla for who she is? Will he give her the chance she needs to let him know she wants him without condition, before it’s too late?

PURCHASE LINKS:

books2Read: https://www.books2read.com/b/bxZXkD

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07K2GCRL4

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07K2GCRL4

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/without-condition-lynn-burke/1129805158

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/without-condition

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/without-condition/id1440823694

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/904254

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WARNING 18+ ONLY!

ADULT EXCERPT:

Detective Ford’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “I can’t do this again.”

“Do what?” Kayla whispered even though he spoke as though to himself.

A muscle in his clenched jaw ticked, and it took him a few seconds to answer.

“Get involved.”

I’m not her, she thought to argue, but what did he know beyond the truth of her life? A rich young woman over ten years his junior whose daddy spoiled her rotten… Thinking he might turn on his heel and walk out without her even getting a chance to taste his lips twisted Kayla’s stomach.

“I don’t want a house and the picket fence, Detective.” The words spilled from her.

“Jacob,” he murmured, his gaze still on her lips.

“I don’t dream about rainbows and unicorns, Jacob,” Kayla whispered, her mind set on having him, giving her more boldness than usual. “I dream about your skin pressed against mine. Your mouth on my body, giving me what I want.”

He blinked, his gaze jerking up to her eyes, and he lifted his chin just enough, it felt as though he peered down at her. “Tell me what you want, Kayla.”

Alpha and commanding… yes, please. Emboldened, Kayla looked up at him through her lashes.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Jacob worked his jaw and thank fuck, lust rose to shimmer in his eyes.

“I’m not a gentle man.”

“I don’t want gentle.”

“I don’t do the cuddle and pillow talk bullshit after fucking a woman.”

All in, Kayla wasn’t about to hold back.

“Can’t cuddle and pillow talk if you bend me over the table in the back room.”

The man didn’t even flinch. “Conflict of interest, then.”

Kayla huffed a snort and dropped her arms, determined to win her way into the damn man’s slacks. She approached on trembling legs, her heartbeat pounding in her chest. His gray striped tie beckoned to her, and she slid the material between two fingers, trailing downward until she reached the end. Her fingertips rested on his belt buckle, and she lifted her gaze.

“Bullshit excuses,” she whispered.

His breath left in a rush, fanning her face with the scent of wintergreen.

“Kayla…”

“Jacob.” She quirked the corner of her lip.

War raged in his eyes, tensing his body looming over hers. That jaded, he probably hadn’t been intimate with too many women since his ex.

“Can I touch you?” she asked, breathless as hell and soaked through the bit of satin covering her throbbing pussy. Kayla slowly slid her hand downward, and when Jacob didn’t stop her, she found his cock, hard and heavy along his left thigh.

“You want me.”

His lips pursed, and Kayla squeezed his impressive girth, drawing a groan from his chest deep enough his mouth parted.

“Yes.” The whispered confession left his lips, and he grabbed her, yanking her full against his body. He crushed his mouth to hers before her held breath escaped, his soft yet demanding lips spinning her head. One hand fisted in her hair, Jacob tilted her head, thrusting his tongue between her lips.

Kayla moaned and sagged against him as his tongue swept along hers, tasting and devouring exactly as she’d hoped.

© Lynn Burke 2018

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/authorlynnburke

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lynn-burke

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Golden by Allyson Young #shifters #PNR #NewRelease #KindleUnlimited #99cents @allysonyoung45

 

Golden: The Pride of Panthers 1

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Trace da Costa is determined to unite the nomadic and unsocial panther shifters of the Americas in order to add their voice—as a pride—to that of the rest of the world’s shifters. Humans are aware shifters exist which has led to innumerable problems, especially threatening the survival of the solitary big cats.

His followers have already embraced the idea of mating and staying together to raise their cubs and when he finds his mate he must convince her of the rationale behind the change in tradition.

Aura Maas has no interest in males, aside from the occasional one night stand and even if Trace da Costa is her mate she isn’t willing to give up her lonely lifestyle, having become inured to it at an early age. She is well aware of the risks with no one to have her back and resistant to the idea of being responsible for another—especially a cub or two.

But she’s impossibly drawn to Trace and when danger strikes they make a formidable team. Not to mention how great the sex is. She agrees to commit for a month, against her better judgment because her cat has already accepted him and her human side is fighting a losing battle.

But there are other forces at work, from traditionalists to hunters and it’s only when she flees on instinct and Trace follows her that she accepts her fate. She is claimed by him—and him by her.

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com//dp/B07K8QMMTP

 

Excerpt:

“Where is she?” The tension in his voice betrayed his need.

Rock Gideon spoke from the side of his mouth. “Secured in the back room.”

His gut clenched as his entire body went on alert. “What do you mean, secured?”

“Tied, wrapped, and gagged. Secured. She should be waking up from the injection right about now.”

“You drugged and secured my mate.” A stupid man might have missed the dire warning in Trace’s tone. Rock was anything but.

Easing up on his elbows, the big male shook his hair from his eyes. Trace held his stare, their beasts close to the surface. The wolf broke first and dropped his gaze for an instant. “It took five of my pack to subdue her. Shade and Blaze are still recovering—in wolf form! It was a fucking bloodbath. Without the injection, you’d still be looking for her, and how I managed to administer that is a mystery.”

Despite the damage to Rock’s people, Trace couldn’t help but feel a frisson of arrogance and satisfaction. Aura Maas was worthy of him and his pride. Not that his loosely knit group of panthers were actually a pride, but they were still connected. And he required a mate to help bind them together before their kind faded into the mist. It was his lifelong ambition and one within his grasp.

He’d outlived his parents, and his sister… Well, he hadn’t given up hope for Ariana, not yet, but most everyone else had, and it was as if he was the last of his line. And so he was determined to build a larger family, both for safety and longevity of their species.

“I apologize for your trouble and offer my regards to your pack. I’ll also increase the prize money.”

With a huff, Rock turned back to his beer. His tone was admiring, if grudging. “Whoever tames that cat will have a lifetime of—”

Whatever the wolf thought Trace would have with Aura was clearly beyond his ability to describe. Trace hid a smug smile and said, “I’ll see her now.”

“Help yourself. Just keep between her and the fucking door once you cut her free.” Rock fished a key out of his shirt pocket. “New deadbolt. And the window is barred. We’ve kept … guests before.”

The information gave him pause but for a moment. Whomever Rock kept prisoner or in a way station wasn’t his business. The alpha wolf had a reputation of being on the up and up. Regardless, he didn’t have time to ponder. His mate awaited him.

 

About the Author:

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Allyson Young aka Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in cottage country, Manitoba, Canada where she and her husband pretend to work well together in their seasonal business.

She has always enjoyed the written word, and after reading an erotic romance, quite by mistake, decided to try her hand at penning one. That was followed by a mix of spicy (Ally) and sweet (Peribeth) romances in various genres as well as a post-apocalyptic adventure without a lick of romance by Peribeth.

A bestselling Amazon author, a hybrid, and a coauthor, as of August 2018 she has published seven series and several standalones—all available on Amazon—with others in the works.

https://www.facebook.com/sweetnspicyauthor/

 

 

A Pack of His Own by Emily Carrington #PNR #UrbanFantasy #DarkFantasy #LGBT #GayRomance #NewRelease @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

A psychic vampire, werewolf, foxgod – and a mother-in-law?
How can they make time for anything else?

A Pack of His Own (Duet) Vol. 2 (A Pack of His Own 2)

Publisher: Changeilng Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Box Set, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay, Shapeshifters, Vampires

A psychic vampire, werewolf, foxgod – and a mother-in-law? How can they make time for anything else?

Tangled Up in You: Retired SearchLight agent Jason Campbell finds himself compelled by a fox demigod who gets to him through the magical medium of music. As Jason falls deeply in love with Reynard, he discovers Reynard is slave to a monster. Jason struggles to free both Reynard and the fox-god’s son, but he must do so without weapons, without backup, and without all the facts, which could lead to death’s retirement.

A Very Psychic Vampire Christmas: Charlie and Luis, A werewolf and a psychic vampire, have been mated for two years according to werewolf custom. They’re planning to get married, to comply with psychic vampire tradition, as well. Unfortunately, the psychic vampire matriarch wants her son to stay away from his werewolf lover — and she’ll stop at nothing to break them up.

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Pre-Order for November 16th at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Emily Carrington
Excerpt from Tangled Up in You

As commanded, Jason Campbell skipped through the wild flowers that divided his sister’s wheat field from the dirt lane.

No.

He walked. Neither shambling nor plodding, he walked. And although he had been ordered to “go skip in the daises” by his sister, he was only obeying because he wanted to be out of the house. He’d been in Kansas less than three hours, and he already wanted to run back to DC.

But nothing awaited him in Washington. The nation’s capital held nothing for him now that he’d been let go.

Jason stopped, head tilting as he caught the ringing, mournful sound of an acoustic guitar being strummed. He discounted it and kept walking. Any idiot could make the guitar sound what Jason called “surface beautiful,” meaning technically perfect but without a soul. It was a welcoming instrument, almost as easy as a child’s recorder and much more pleasant.

He stopped again, and he felt a slow smile stretch his mouth. The guitarist was plucking the instrument and making music. True and compelling runs of notes, like water over a fall. Jason nodded to the melody carried on the galloping accompaniment. He knew this one, and he began to sing softly.

“Papa, Papa, build me a boat
“That I might on the ocean float.
“To hail all ships as they pass by
“And to enquire for my darling boy.”

It was a griever’s song, full of loss and providing no promise of comfort. Jason loved it and would have, he told himself, even if he hadn’t been smarting from forced retirement.

He left the band of wildflowers and walked beside the dirt lane where only the occasional tractor passed. He would be trespassing in the neighbor’s field by following the music, but he had a hope that trespassing wasn’t as strictly watched and enforced here as in DC.

The melody rang over the broken chords, and the second verse flitted through Jason’s mind. He didn’t sing. It seemed blasphemous to cover the guitar’s voice with his own.

As we were out on the Eastern Isle
We lost four men
And your darling boy.

He entered another field of wheat, passing between the rows like a ghost, unseen and leaving little to no trace of his travels. Children of the Corn. He smirked briefly before letting it fall away. Child of the wheat is more to the point, but who ever heard of a horror story with that title? There were things that lived in corn fields. And wheat fields. Hungry things that called for human blood and were often sustained on birds and bugs while waiting for weary travelers.

Jason had killed some of them.

He shrugged the memories away and fixed his gaze on the single grain silo that lifted its head above the drowsy August world. There was a farmhouse beyond the structure but a good distance off, leaving the gray and cylindrical exclamation point all but alone.
The music seemed to be coming from the tower’s top. And impossible as that surely was — grain silos were places of storage, not sitting — Jason shielded his eyes and squinted, looking up for the first glimpse of the player.

“I’m too far away,” he whispered as the music left off “The Sailor Lad” and went into a skipping tangle of notes he didn’t recognize. “I can’t possibly see him. Or her.”

Still he peered, and much sooner than he would have thought, he’d reached the base of the grain silo. There was a broken ladder on its side, a rusted thing that hung in defiance of the building’s otherwise well-tended look.

He began circling the massive cylinder, searching for another way up. Because the music was definitely coming from above him, and he needed to find the guitarist. He needed to.

And while he sought, the laughing melody went on.

* * *

Reynard sensed the gnat far below, and his heart ached. He fell into a faster rhythm in an attempt to relieve the pain. Go away, he thought at the gnat who was really an innocent of some kind. A human innocent of some kind. Go away. Save yourself. Not that he was dangerous on his own, but he was bound to a ravenous beast.

“Go away, go away,” he chanted against the plucking of his right hand. “Go away, go,” he muttered as his left hand found chord after chord and changed, without Reynard’s conscious desire, to another depressing ballad. This one was without words, and Reynard hated the silence left when he quit speaking.

He purposely changed the music and, unable to keep away from the mildly dirge-like, began making up one of his own.

“Fly, little, fly, little,
“Fly, little bird.
“Far away from me,
“Far away from him,
“Far from your own desires.”

That wasn’t half bad, and Reynard went on:

“Run, little, run, little
“Run, little bear.
“Dangerous parents you have.
“Dangerous you will become,
“But dangerous I am.
“Run. Run. Run.”

But the gnat — the man — was now prodding at the ladder below. If he kept doing that, he would discover the silo’s secret. Then there would be little Reynard could do to keep him away. To keep him safe.

He bent a touch more magic into the song, hoping it would affect the man as his first attempt with small magic had not. And he sang.

“Creep, little, creep, little,
“Creep, little gnat
“Far from me.
“Far from here.
“Far from your death.”

For an instant, this seemed to work. The man hesitated with his hands not quite resting on the invisible rungs of the ladder that only looked rusted.

Then he began to climb.

He did it fast, as if he was afraid he’d rethink his actions. Or maybe, Reynard decided when he caught a glimpse of the man’s briefly upturned face, as if he had climbed invisible ladders before. The act might be completely commonplace.

What sort of man is this? Reynard stepped back from his window as the stranger neared. Why isn’t he affected by my music, by my magic? A frisson of excitement rushed to the ends of all his fingers and curled his toes. There had never been a mere mortal able to resist him. Who was this man?

Maybe he isn’t a mere mortal human. But when Reynard had sent out his magic to stop the stranger, he had felt no answering magic. The immune newcomer was as mundane as sliced bread.

He allowed himself a brief smile as the memory of his childhood, years without sliced bread, years of loaves never precut, flitted through his mind. He’d lived long enough to see something that had once seemed ostentatious become common. This man, too, might become the accepted thing.

But not now, he thought, as the stranger climbed through the window and stood in the same room with Reynard in spite of the “go away” melody. Now he is a miracle.

Reynard bowed, not wondering at his sudden desire to be formal. “Welcome.” That sounded as if he’d expected the man. “You are a surprise.” That sounded rude. Quit analyzing your words and say something that is truly you. “You are welcome here, miraculous stranger.” That at least seemed like him, even if it remained overly formal.

The average-looking man returned his bow. “Thank you. I am Jason Campbell.”

Weren’t names a thing of power? Yes, but this man seemed unafraid of that.

 

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Emily Carrington has been writing m/m erotic romance (specializing in urban fantasy) since 2010. She is currently branching out into the other letters of the LGBTQ rainbow. She lives in Maryland with her guide dog. For short stories about the main and side characters in her books, please visit her website.

Website: emilycarrington.com/

Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/4619715.Emily_Carrington

Facebook: facebook.com/emily.carrington.370

Twitter: twitter.com/CarringtonEmily

Dixie Reapers MC paperback, Volume 1 #MCromance #bikerromance #newadult #olderhero #NewRelease @changelingpress #HarleyW_Writer

One fucking look. That’s all it took. I branded her. I let her go.
Now she’s back, and she’s mine.

Venom/Torch Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Print 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action/Adventure, MC Romance,
New Adult, Silver Fox, Contemporary
Format: Paperback

Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)

Ridley: My daddy was a biker, and I was definitely Daddy’s girl. When I found out my stepdad had something horrible planned for me, I ran. Straight to the Dixie Reapers. But it wasn’t my daddy’s arms I ended up in. Venom makes me feel safe, and his kisses make me ache for so much more. I want him — all of him — and damn the consequences.

Venom: I hadn’t risen to the rank of VP of the Dixie Reapers MC without getting my hands dirty. I’d been deep in blood and dirty money for over twenty years. But when an angel I hadn’t seen in fourteen years came back into my life, all it took was one look and I was a goner. Now she’s mine, and I’ll do anything to keep her, even if it means starting a war.

Torch (Dixie Reapers MC 2)

Isabella: I was seventeen when my daddy gave me to Torch. He inked me, then watched me walk away. Now I’m back, ready to face whatever fate awaits me. It never occurred to me he’d kiss me so deeply, so passionately I’d be begging for more. He’ll be my first, my last, my only… because I’m his, and he’s never going to let me forget it.

Torch: I’ve kept my distance, watching over the girl I claimed as my own. I know it’s only a matter of time before she comes home. There may be thirty years between us, but fuck if I care what people think. She’s mine, and I’m going take her any way I can, as often as I can, and when I’m done, she’ll never again think of walking out the door. Because she’s done the impossible… she’s claimed the heart of a man who didn’t think he had one. No one’s going to come between us, especially not the man who gave his daughter to me — not even if he has the entire cartel army on his ass.

Available at Amazon

Prefer ebook? Venom and Torch are available separately in ebook from Changeling Press.

 

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Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)
Harley Wylde
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Harley Wylde

My heart thundered in my chest as I locked myself in the bathroom off the foyer. The air duct over my head had always carried sounds from the dining room, and I listened in horror as my stepdad and Mr. Montoya discussed me like I was cattle.

“She’ll do,” Mr. Montoya said. “I’ll have fun breaking her in. Once she’s been properly trained, I’m sure she’ll fetch top dollar.”

My stomach pitched, and I nearly threw up.

“Of course, I’d prefer to see all the merchandise before paying our agreed upon price,” Mr. Montoya said. “After dinner, I’ll see exactly what I’m paying for and maybe take her for a test drive.”

“Whatever you need,” my mom said. “This deal is very important to us.”

Holy shit! My own mother was selling me? Shit like this just didn’t happen. Not to girls like me. Yeah, sure, you heard on the news about women being sold overseas to brothels, but to have it brought to own my front door… My hand shook as I slowly turned the knob and let myself out of the bathroom. I removed my heels so I wouldn’t make a sound.

Marta, the housekeeper we’d had since I first moved here, was quietly standing near the front door. Out of sight of the dining room. With a quick glance toward the door that led to where my fate awaited, I dashed to Marta’s side. She handed me my purse and car keys.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “Go straight to your father.”

“Marta, I…”

She shushed me and gave me a tight hug. “I love you like you were my own. I won’t stand by and let this happen to you. Now go, before they realize you’re not coming back.”

“Thank you,” I said fervently, then soundlessly opened the front door and made my escape.

My car, a Mercedes Richard and Mom had bought on my sixteenth birthday, was parked around the side of the house. The engine was quiet, and if I kept my headlights off, no one would even know I was leaving. I slipped behind the wheel and tossed my purse and shoes on the passenger seat. Fastening my seatbelt, I shut the door as softly as I could and started the engine.

The car crept around the fountain and down the driveway. The gate remained open from when Mr. Montoya had arrived, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Once my tires touched the road, I flicked on my headlights and headed for the highway. It was a long-ass drive to Alabama, but except for gas, I wasn’t fucking stopping until I saw my daddy. Mom might have done her best to separate us, but I would always be Daddy’s little girl.

When I’d been on the road for hours, my stomach began to cramp from hunger and my car was almost on empty. I pulled into a small town somewhere in North Florida. After filling my tank, I left the car parked at the gas station and walked across the street to a diner. But what I saw when I stepped through the doors froze me in my tracks. My face was plastered across the TV with a ticker running underneath. Ridley Johnson is reported as being unstable. If seen, contact the police immediately.

I tried to pull my hair forward as much as possible to hide my face and claimed a spot at the back of the diner, where the lighting wasn’t so great. My hands fumbled with my purse, and I quietly counted what was left of my cash. I’d seen enough crime shows to know my credit cards could be traced, so I’d paid cash at the gas station and I’d pay cash for my meal. An older waitress came over, looking dead on her feet.

“What can I get you, doll?”

“A burger and fries with a sweet tea.”

She nodded and scribbled my order down, not even looking at my face once. As she moved away to place my order with the kitchen, some of the tension eased from my shoulders. The place was nearly empty, but I had a close call when a sheriff’s deputy stepped inside. I sat frozen, scared to even breathe, until he picked up his to-go order and went back out to his cruiser.

My meal arrived a few minutes later, and I ate quickly, leaving enough money on the table to cover the bill and a tip. Gathering my purse, I headed back to my car, every nerve in my body on alert for any kind of trouble. I hit the road again and didn’t stop until I’d cleared the panhandle.

The town was shabby, the sidewalks cracked, and the buildings crumbling. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was time to change. I stopped to top off my tank at a gas station that was well lit, just in case I got stuck with the car a while longer, and grabbed my backpack from the trunk. In case my family had gotten nosy, I’d hidden it in the spare tire compartment, which meant if I had a flat I was shit out of luck because both the tire and my bag and boots hadn’t fit.

After filling up the car, I stepped into the grimy bathroom and stripped out of my dress and heels. I washed my face in the sink with the harsh soap provided in the dispenser and blotted it dry with the stiffest damn paper towels I’d ever touched. Pulling an elastic from my bag, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, the long curling mass falling down the center of my back. After I had shimmied into a pair of tight, ripped jeans and put on a black tee with teal swirls and white skulls across the front, I slipped on some socks and the biker boots I’d picked up at a Harley Davidson store.

A smile flashed across my face as I studied my reflection in the cracked mirror. Aside from the golden curls, I didn’t even look like Ridley Johnson anymore. At least, not the Ridley Johnson Mom had molded me to be. I hated that girl and never wanted to be her again. I stuffed my dress and heels in the trash, picked up my bag, and went back out to my car. The guy behind the counter didn’t even look up from his magazine.

Now I just had one more problem. The damn car. There was no way my stepdad had put out that bulletin on me without also telling the cops what I was driving. It was a fucking miracle no one had pulled me over yet. I knew what I was about to do was risky as hell, but so was driving around in this damn Mercedes for another minute.

I’d hung around my dad long enough to know what I was searching for. Our visits might have been few, but he’d always made them count. Mom thought we were taking drives to the park or the beach, but he’d been teaching me about his way of life, and introducing me to some people she wouldn’t have approved of.

I pulled up to a garage on a darkened street corner. A light inside told me someone was around, even if the place wasn’t officially open. My palms were sweating again but I blew out a breath and braced myself. It was time to put the socialite behind me and be every inch my father’s daughter. I pulled the keys from the ignition and boldly walked inside.

“You can’t be here, bitch,” a voice said harshly from deep inside.

“I need to make a trade,” I said.

A man with a leather cut strolled out of the garage, the lighting just good enough that I could read Devil’s Boneyard MC — V.P. — Scratch.

I had no fucking clue if it was a rival club of Dixie Reapers or not and knew I needed to tread carefully. We studied one another, his gaze taking me in from head to toe. Not in an I want to fuck her kind of way, more like he was assessing if I was a threat.

“I have a problem,” I said. “I have a hot car and need someone to take it off my hands. All I need in return is something that will run well enough for me to get a few states away.”

Scratch rubbed his jaw and looked beyond me to the silver Mercedes.

“If you change out the VIN or strip it for parts, you can make a decent amount off it,” I said. “I don’t care what piece of shit you give me in return as long as it gets me where I’m going. I need reliable, not flashy.”

He took in my appearance again. “You know how to ride?”

His question momentarily startled me. “Ride?”

He tipped his head and sauntered back inside the garage. Against my better judgment, I followed. There was an older motorcycle sitting off to the side. The pewter gray tank and fenders had seen better days, but as I circled the bike I saw that it was in pretty decent condition. The Harley emblem, though tarnished, was a welcome surprise. I wasn’t a bike expert by any means, even though Dad had tried, but I thought it was a Harley Soft Tail, which meant it would be light enough for a woman like me to handle. Unlike the big monster my dad rode.

“How well does it run?” I asked.

Scratch walked over to a wall and pulled down a key, tossing it to me. I snatched it midair and straddled the bike. The key turned in the ignition easily enough and I twisted the throttle. The engine rumbled, and a smile spread across my face. God, I’d fucking missed that sound. The thrum of the bike between my legs made me feel like I was coming home. Dad had taught me to ride when I was fourteen, and he’d rented a bike for me every time he’d visited after that, even if I hadn’t been exactly been legal to drive the first few years.

“Even trade?” I asked.

The gaze Scratch gave me said he saw more than I liked, but he nodded.

“I just need to get my stuff from the Mercedes. It’s unlocked,” I said, handing him the car keys.

When I returned with my backpack strapped to me, my purse stuffed inside, he held out some papers to me. I glanced at them and saw it was everything I’d need to make the bike legal when I got to where I was going.

“I don’t know who you belong to, baby girl, or what you’re running from, but you don’t fucking stop until you reach your man.”

“You know who I am,” I said softly.

“Picture’s been all over the news tonight, statewide from what I hear. You don’t appear all that unstable to me, but that family you’re leaving… they’re bad news. Richard Benton III is not a nice man.”

“You know my stepdad?” I asked without thinking.

“Know of him. My crew won’t have anything to do with the shit he’s mixed up in.”

I straddled the bike again and nodded.

“Who taught you to ride? Socialites like you don’t know shit about bikes.”

“I’m not a socialite. I’m a biker’s daughter.” And that was as much as I was going to tell him.

 

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Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Visit Harley at harleywylde.com!

Playing with Michael by Cameron Allie #FriendstoLovers #RomanceBooks #NewRelease #authorinterview @CamAllieErotica @changelingpress

Making the jump from friends to lovers. Is it really worth the risk?

Playing With Michael (Love Me or Leave Me 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, New Adult
Length: Novella

When his long-time crush Nikki gets dumped, Michael decides to make his move. She’s the perfect girlfriend — so perfect so that she’s never single for long. Michael knows his window of opportunity is limited. It’s now or never.

When her best guy friend Michael breaks all the rules and kisses her at the bar, Nikki’s stunned. Michael’s the guy Nikki always turns to when her heart is broken — again. He’s a friend, a confidant, and, best of all, he’s safe. She can tell him anything. But once the shock wears off and she has time to sort out her feelings, she decides he’s worth the risk. Time to find out just how compatible they really are!

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Pre-Order for November 16th at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo

 

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Do you have a favorite type of hero or heroine to write?

I like to write spunky heroines. I’m quiet and rather timid IRL so it’s fun when I get to write a heroine that says what she’s thinking. As far as heroes go, I tend to write the “friend” character. The nice guy that always gets looked over. In Playing with Michael he gets fed up of being passed by and decides to do something about it. I am however, very much looking forward to writing a few assholes in upcoming stories.

How long have you been writing, and how long did it take before your first book was published?

I’ve been writing since I was 15 but the stuff I wrote back then is just awful. I’ve come a long way in 16 years and hope I continue to improve. I was first published in 2016. It took me about a year to write My Mistletoe Master, and since then I’ve learn how to write much, much faster. I’ve got four novels, five short stories, and one novella out. By the end of the year I’ll have two more shorts, and I’m currently working on four contracts for two different publishers. I hope I can keep up!

Do you have a routine you follow when you’re working on a book? A certain time of day when you write, or a snack you keep nearby?

I recently had a baby. My daughter is seven months old and any sense of routine went out the window when she was born! Now that she’s sleeping through the night I generally get a chance to write in the evenings. My “sprinting” partner, Dena Garson, and I often try to get a few words in every night.

Writers Block. Is it a problem and if so, what do you do to break through and start writing again?

If I get stuck, or I’ve stepped away from writing for too long and I’m having a hard time getting back into it I do one of two things. I either sprint with a partner and just push through it, until it clicks again, or I start something new. I might change and work on a different story, or I’ll skip through and start a new scene. Generally that shakes something loose.

Is there a book, movie, or song that inspires you when you’re working?

Lately, I’ve been finding the band Imagine Dragons really inspirational. When their stuff comes on the radio I just start seeing scenes from my book. Characters start popping up.

As a writer, I’m sure you also love reading. Do you have a favorite book and what do you love about it?

I do love to read. I have a few favourite authors that I like to read. Gaelen Foley, Lori Foster and Laurelin Paige are my favourites. I really enjoy the writing styles of Foley and Foster. I like the way they write series and the connection between the male characters. I strive for those types of relationships in my own writing.

Marketing. I know most authors have a love/hate relationship with it. Have you found that to be true, and do you have any recommendations for new or aspiring authors?

Marketing is so tricky. It’s not easy to do, and honestly it’s really expensive. Whether it’s paying for FB ads, or for blog tours. Some authors pay a company to do their promotion for them. Buying swag is costly, as is going to conferences to try to get exposure. What I find very difficult is that I write under a pen name, so trying to keep the divide between my personal and profession life is hard. I think I’d pull in more sales if I could talk more openly about writing erotic romance.

My best suggestion is to have a newsletter, social media pages and an easy to navigate website which includes an active, INTERESTING, blog. I often host blog interviews or tours which somethings include contests. I have one coming up for Christmas.

What advise do you have for those who think they want to write professionally?

When I was first starting out I remember someone saying “Before you’re published, when you finish your first book start on the next one, then the next, because once you sign with a publisher they want books fast!”

That’s a great piece of advice and I wish I’d listened to it more. As I mentioned I’ve got 4 contracts going, 2 I’m finishing up and 2 I’m just starting, all for series. You need to be able to write quickly, because they can pump it out quickly!

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Cameron Allie

“You really think tonight is the best time?”

Even though his brother couldn’t see him, Michael rolled his eyes. They’d had this discussion multiple times. He wasn’t interested in hearing it again. After lifting his ass off the nylon upholstery, Michael dug his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a twenty to pay the cabbie. “Now is the best time. Yes.”

“But she just got dumped today.”

Michael snorted. He doubted she was the one who got dumped.

Nikki had texted him partway through his work day to inform him her boyfriend had been cheating on her, and tonight she wanted to let off a little steam. Their friends were meeting at Club Ivy. She wanted to know if he was free.

From that point on it had been nearly impossible to focus on work. Tonight he’d finally have his chance with Nikki.

“He cheated on her, Jer,” he told his brother through the phone. “I think she did the dumping.”

“Still, it’s fresh. Why don’t you wait a week or so? You don’t want to crowd the poor girl.”

“I can’t wait, and don’t ask me why, because you damn well know why.” Nikki never stayed single long. Each time one of her relationships came to an end Michael had given her space, all the while plotting his move, and each time he waited too long. The last time she was single was over a year ago. He’d promised to give her a week, then he’d ask her out. Turned out a week was too long.

“I don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”

“I’m a big boy, Jer. I can handle it.” And if she rejected him, well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. “Look, I got to go. I’m there.”

The cab pulled up to the entrance of the club. A line was already beginning to form at the door. A few men were scattered among the hordes of women in tight dresses and plunging necklines, all waiting to be let inside. Michael handed the driver his bill and told him to keep the change.

He pulled the handle on the door and stepped into the refreshing evening air. Through the phone his brother said, “Whatever happens in there tonight, good luck.”

“Thanks,” Michael replied before disconnecting the call and pocketing his phone. He knew despite Jer’s worry he really did hope for the best. Jer was the only one who knew how hung up on Nikki Michael was, and understood how miserable he was watching from the sidelines as she steadily dated men who were all wrong for her. Men who weren’t him.

 

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Romance author Cameron Allie grew up in a small town north of Toronto. As a child she loved stories, and after reading her first romance novel at age fifteen, her dreams of writing became singularly focused on the love story. She is currently living in Ontario with her husband, their young daughter and with their cat, who is constantly trying to interrupt the writing process.

Visit Cameron at: https://www.cameronallie.com/