Release Blitz: Fang by Ellen Mint #paranormalromance @Totally_Bound

Fang by Ellen Mint

Book 2 in the Coven of Desire series

Genres:

ANGELS AND DEMONS
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
PARANORMAL
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

How can Cal live when the monster remains in the mirror?

Cal is struggling. After his past unraveled into a torment that claimed nearly his whole family, how could he not be? The only good left in his life is Layla, even if she comes with a pain-in-the-haunches incubus. Dealing with Ink is one more problem he’s ignoring, until the werewolf issues he’s refused to face come for him.

A second pack is hunting him and they’re threatening his mother. Cal has no choice but to travel back to Santa Fe and confront them, or lose the last family he has left. While a road trip with Layla sounds nice, Ink has to come along, and the demon keeps driving a growing wedge between Cal and his tenuous grasp on humanity.

Cal, Ink and Layla come face to face with an enemy Cal once believed to be nothing but a myth, his claws and fangs useless against their firepower. What do they want with the witch, werewolf and demon? And, most of all, how can they be stopped?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, peril, near death, blood and gore. There are references to a cult, abusive and violent parents, and references to patricide.

Publisher’s Note: Everyone who buys a copy of Fang will receive the short story Snow Print free. Set between the events of Claw and Fang in the Coven of Desire series, Cal’s struggling to overcome the loss in his life is interrupted by a snowman army.

Excerpt

A crack shattered the silence, trying to pry my locked jaws apart. Shadows clipped across the single floodlight above the floorboards.

Diesel, gun oil, salted pork and…old leather. Every scent filled my sinuses and I whimpered.

“Cal…”

No! I spun in the tight space, clamping my filthy fingers onto my brother’s mouth. Even in the muddy crawlspace, I could see his eyes blazing above my palm. Eli’s entire body shivered, his shoulders rising to shield himself from every clip of the boot above our heads.

“We have to keep moving,” Mark spat in my ear. I cringed at the loogie sliding down my face while the eldest brother easily spun on his haunches. Even with his messed-up leg duct-taped to a fence post, he crawled quickly under the floor.

The boards above our heads stopped creaking and the light vanished. Had he gone to bed? This was it. Mom had put me in charge of getting Eli. All we had to do was…

Blinding white punctured the world. The ceiling above us shattered, splintering my heart. A massive hand slammed down right in front of my face. I reached my foot back, prepared to kick and break a finger, when the entire house collapsed over Eli.

Another crack. We all flinched as he took it. Three more lines added to the ones crisscrossing his back. Growls rumbled from Mark, pinned by his mother to stand and watch. I tried to twist away, but my head wouldn’t leave. If I didn’t watch, I could be next.

“Ah!”

A single cry escaped from Eli, and both Mark and I screamed, “No.” If he made a sound, it started all over.

The belt hung against the five-year-old’s back, Eli straining to reach over the apple crate he bent over. Crimson wicked up his burlap cassock. The blood would be left to dry for days as a reminder because the scars weren’t enough.

“This is what happens to disobedient boys,” boomed the voice through my ears, up my feet and into my blood. I tried to spit it out, the scent of him merging into a putrid taste boiling down my throat. Leaning over, I tried to retch it away—diesel, gun oil, salted pork, old leather, and blood. A spray of it erupted from my lips, staining the floorboards of the great room. No one turned to me, no one noticed I was vomiting in front of them.

Every eye gazed upon him. The father. Our great leader into the next stage of existence.

“Cal!”

“Eli…?”

His dirty, matted hair began to lift. As it did, crimson paint dribbled down the sides. “I don’t wanna be here, Cal!”

“I…” Damn it. My gaze plummeted to the floor, tears threatening to burst. Slamming my lids closed so no one could tattle on me for crying, I said, “I’ll get you out of here, Eli. When it’s done, I’ll get you.”

“Forget it.” It wasn’t the soft cry of a kid, but the dead acceptance of an adult. Even with my eyes shut tight, I saw Eli rise from the box. He trampled it down with his foot, shattering the crate we’d all been whipped on. Eli stood tall, stretching far above my head.

“Weak,” the voice of my unending nightmares thundered. “All of you.” His face burned hot like the sun and I could only stare at the black gun extending from his hand. He pointed it at the followers standing in a ring around us.

“The time of the Moon is nigh,” the rotten bastard said. “Destiny, child. Blood.” He aimed his gun at Eli. A flash turned my brother’s head into a wolf’s skull.

“Eli!” I screamed, running for him. But my feet couldn’t get any traction. Every step kept me pinned in place, unable to reach my brother slowly tumbling to the cement ground.

“You cannot escape it, Calvin.” The asshole’s hand clamped to my shoulder and he pressed me down to my knees. I tried to fight it, but my bones were matchsticks against his might. They buckled, my nose pressing into the dirt.

A wind howled through the trees, parting the stricken branches to reveal the yellow-blue light forever beaming down upon us. Itching rippled under my skin, one no amount of scratching would solve.

“Give in,” he chanted almost serenely.

I shook my head, feeling fur and not hair brush against my shoulder. “No,” I declared, the words warping as my gums receded. Pain clawed up the roots of my teeth sharpening to fangs.

“You cannot escape, Calvin.”

Squeezing my eyes tight, I willed the wolf back. My teeth flattened. I patted my head, finding only the shaved hair. Lashing my arm back, I burst from his grip and took two steps forward. “I’m never changing again!” I shouted.

A low chuckle caused me to freeze. My body betrayed me, terror beckoning me to turn. Lucien bent down, half of his skull exposed, the skin ripped like paper, the muscles rotted away. The eyeball in his fleshless socket was milky white. “Child.” A squishy, flapping sound followed his words. Red and purple tubes flapped out of a massive wound in his throat. I wanted to scream, but my mouth drowned with hot liquid.

“You cannot escape your blood.”

Fuck!

I shook awake, my whole body slamming forward to try to escape. Instead of hurling myself off the bed, I almost knocked my teeth into a soft shoulder. Layla’s hair provided cushioning to stop me, and I buried my face in it. I opened my mouth in a rictus and gave all the force of shrieking without letting a single sound escape.

My tongue tasted of copper and salt, of Lucien’s blood that I had ripped from his throat. My brain thundered with the scents of his body, his boots, his instruments of terror. Get out of it. He’s not here. He can never be here.

Burrowing my nose farther into her hair, I pulled in the deepest whiff imaginable. Cereal marshmallows. We’d gotten into a pointless food fight last night and I’d flicked them at her as she laughed. Amber. She’d used my soap to wash her hands and face. Me. The long night I held her safe in my arms. The air right before a thunderstorm struck. Layla.

My body tightened around her as it recognized the fullness of her. And she was stirring. Damn it.

“Cal…?” she croaked. Most of the time her voice was lush and lyrical, but in the morning it sounded more like a smoking frog.

I placed my lips to the nape of her neck, kissing over her curly hair to try to find the skin below. The taste of her replaced the lingering memory of blood. “Sorry to wake you,” I said.

The wolf inside me was restless. No, angry. It wanted vengeance even though we’d already gotten it. I winced and started to slide away. If I stayed in bed, no matter how tempting, it could rip through me. Take over my thoughts and push me to its side. I slid my hand up Layla’s stomach and over her hip, having to abandon her to calm down.

I was fairly certain she’d passed out and I slipped to my feet, when her fingers crested over mine. Through the shadows of the old house, I couldn’t see much, but the silhouette of her breasts tumbling together out from under my blanket almost drove me back in with her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

No. But I’ve never been okay my whole life. “You stay sleeping.” I bent over and kissed her lips. I wished her taste and touch could chase away all the nightmare, but it clung to me like a filthy sack caked in blood. Rising to my feet, I stumbled out of my room. The wolf inside me howled.

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About the Author

Ellen Mint

Ellen Mint adores the adorkable heroes who charm with their shy smiles and heroines that pack a punch. She recently won the Top Ten Handmaid’s Challenge on Wattpad where hers was chosen by Margaret Atwood. Her books, Undercover Siren and Fever are available at Amazon as well as a short story in the Lucky Between The Sheets anthology. Married, she lives in Nebraska with her dog named after Granny Weatherwax. Her hobbies include gaming, painting, and halloween prop making. The basement is full of skeletons because they ran out of room in the closets.

You can find Ellen at her website here and also on Bookbub.

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Ellen Mint’s Claw Giveaway

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Infernal Desire by Angela Knight #DarkFantasy @AngelaKnight @changelingpress

For the past five years, Zana Alasdair has been obsessed with Rafe Cazadero. Which is an issue, to say the least, because Rafe is a half-angel demon hunter, and Zana is… well… a demon. Sort of. Anyway, she’s a succubus — a half-human demon who draws magic from the erotic energy she collects making love to mortals. Which means Rafe would probably kill her if he caught her hanging around.

Which is why Pointy doesn’t approve of her little crush on the hunter. Pointy is her evil tail, which has a mind of its own, and is thoroughly convinced Rafe is Bad News. And Pointy does have a… well… point. Except if Rafe’s not careful, he’s going to get himself killed, and that would be a damn shame. Especially since one of those most interested in killing Rafe is Zana’s psycho father, Jargoth, a Lord of Hell, who’d also like to kill Zana.

Zana’s been thinking. Wouldn’t it be great if she could talk Rafe and his magic sword into an alliance? She can be pretty persuasive… assuming she can convince her evil tail to be a little less evil…

Get it now at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 2nd at Online Booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight

Rafe

I needed the night off, but I wasn’t going to get it. I’d be killing demons before dawn. That or dying.

My skin had the itchy feeling that meant something nasty was about to emerge from Hell. Trouble was, it was hard to tell when that itch would escalate to the fiery burn of the Call.

Frowning, I swallowed a mouthful of Scotch, absently stroking the cat in my lap as I gave the problem some thought. Witches preferred to do their summoning at midnight, because that’s what some idiot wrote in a grimoire once. On the other hand, a demon manifesting on his own could choose any time between dusk and dawn. Once the sun came up, you were in the clear for the day. All that solar radiation interferes with dark magics.

“Blllurrrt?” Hocus stretched upward to scrub her furry head against my stubbled jaw. The cat was a Maine Coon, sixteen pounds of fluff and affection. Her bright green eyes peered from a coal-black face surrounded by streaks of white, gray and black, as if she was emerging from a cloud of smoke.

Five years ago, I’d found her meowing in a storm drain as a half-drowned kitten. I’d fished her out and taken her home. I have no idea how an expensive purebred ended up in such a mess, but the vet said she wasn’t chipped. I decided not to look a gift cat in the fangs.

I’d needed the company of something alive to stay sane, since there was no way in Hell I’d risk a woman in my life for more than a few hours. Sometimes I still woke with tears on my cheeks, remembering the clean toddler scent of Ettor’s white-blond hair and the music of Ynes’s laughter.

And the sight of their bodies, when I’d returned home from the mission to find what the demon had left of them. It had been more than three centuries, but you don’t forget that kind of pain. I’d never dared love another mortal since.

Fortunately, one of the Diabol would ignore a cat. Animals don’t have enough innate magic to attract their attention. Hocus was a safe enough companion.

I took another sip of Scotch whiskey as the electric tingle on my shoulders started rolling over my skin in stinging waves. The sensation sharpened between my shoulder blades, burning like a brand where wings would have been — if I’d had them.

Grimacing, I drained the Scotch. The Call would sober me up, no matter how drunk I was. Part of the magic. I ran one hand down the cat’s silken back all the way to the end of her tail, which twitched out of my grip.

It was quiet, the only sound Hocus’s metronome purr and the steady click of the grandfather clock. The library was my favorite room in the house. No weapons lurked anywhere, other than the blessed blade in my boot. No grimoires occupied the maple hand-carved floor to ceiling shelves. Just mysteries and science fiction novels and volumes of poetry, stacked three deep. It wasn’t a rich man’s library — no leather-bound first editions. Most of my books were paperbacks in a dozen languages, dog-eared with cracked spines. I read books, I don’t collect them. I clung to the moment of peace with a drowning man’s desperation, knowing it was about to…

My vision snapped crystal-sharp around the edges, a signal that meant I had exactly twenty minutes to the Call. I put the rocks glass down on the end table with a click, scooped Hocus off my lap and dropped her to the floor as I rose. She meowed plaintively and trotted at my heels as I strode from the library and down the hall.

I’d built the house in the Craftsman style a century or so ago. Its exterior was rough fieldstone in shades of brown and cream, with thick, square columns and oak accents. Inside, I’d hand-carved exposed oak beams and wainscoting with intricate patterns. You’d have to look closely to see the warding spells worked into the carving to discourage demonic visitors. It was a bit dark inside for contemporary taste — no blinding white open plan for me. I displayed the art and sculpture that was too realistic for modern collectors where it suited me. I replaced it with whatever piece I did next and liked better.

When you’re immortal, you don’t get sentimental about your work. That’s why I’ve got three storage units stuffed to the gills.

The door at the end of the hall opened at my touch — no one else could have opened it at all — and the wrought iron rang under my feet as I descended the spiral stairs to the armory.

Hocus trotted at my heels muttering weird little Maine Coon vocalizations. I was almost tempted to run her commentary through Google Translate, but I didn’t think Cat was one of the language options. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she was bitching about.

“I shouldn’t be gone long,” I told her. “But just in case, there’s water, and the feeder will dispense your breakfast in eight hours.”

More Maine Coon grumbling.

“Yeah, I know you hate dry food, but that’s all the feeder takes.” She was picky as Hell, but I figured she’d eat it if she got hungry enough.

She leaped past, the stairs ringing as I stepped off onto the smooth-finished concrete floor inscribed with runes and three different spell circles. I pulled my cell phone out of my jeans pocket and thumbed a button, then dropped it on my worktable.

If I wasn’t back in forty-eight hours to cancel it, an email would go out to Jo Landon telling the gallery owner where to find the key I’d hidden. She’d pick up the art and the cat. Remuiel would take care of everything the mortals didn’t need to know about. “Jo’ll come pick you up if something goes seriously sideways.” I gave the cat a glower. “I know you never like my friends, but too bad. No biting, no clawing, no breaking her shit. I don’t want you to starve if I’m not around to take care of your furry ass.”

As I spoke, I started stripping, methodically swapping jeans and T-shirt for the skin-tight Lycra that would keep my armor from chafing. Then I turned to the big man-shaped form that held the blessed armor and began to slide into it.

Back in the day, a knight needed the help of a squire and a page or two to get into his armor, but this suit had been conjured by an angel for combat with demons. The hip-length jacket and pants looked like leather and weighed about the same, but the spells and sigils embossed into them made them stronger than a battleship’s hull. I could have taken a blast from a tank without mussing my hair. Black gloves, boots and a helm with a transparent faceplate completed the armor, all marked prominently with the sign of the cross. Which, unfortunately, didn’t do as good a job at repelling demons as legends would have you believe.

Because that would make my life too fucking easy.

The burn was intensifying. I was running out of time…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angela Knight’s romance writing career began in 1996, when she realized her dream of romance publication with Red Sage’s Secrets anthology. She is a New York Times best-selling author of more than fifty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Time Hunters series. Her career spans twenty plus years. Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine gave her a Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for best erotic romance and best werewolf romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press. She also teaches online writing courses with SavvyAuthors.com. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.

BOOK REVIEW: Demon Kissed by H.M. Ward #fantasyromance #youngadult @hmward

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The Valefar boy tricked Ivy Taylor into kissing him, but he took much more than a kiss – he stole her soul and left her within inches of death. By surviving, Ivy is drawn into the conflict between the Martis and the Valefar. The war between these two immortal forces has raged for millennia without distraction. Until now.

Ivy is an anomaly-she is the only person who has ever walked away from a demon kiss alive. Her survival gives her unique and deadly abilities. Too powerful to ignore, Ivy is a threat to both armies. These two ancient enemies will stop at nothing to kill the seventeen-year-old.

Surviving is nothing new for headstrong Ivy, but her survival has never depended on another person before. This time it does. And if she misplaces her trust, she’s dead. To her horror, she starts falling in love at the worst possible time-with the enemy. He appears to be protecting her. But she can’t be certain if he is trying to help her, or help himself to her power. For Ivy, trusting the right person is the difference between love and survival, or a deadly demon kiss. 

MY REVIEW:

5 stars!

I stumbled across this one as recommendation from Amazon, based on previous books I’ve read. I didn’t read the reviews before downloading it, and I’m glad I didn’t since so many said the book was awful.

Good vs Evil will be a common book theme until the world ends. Yes, there are ideas in this one that seem similar to other romance with demons or angels, but not enough for me to say it’s a copy of any other book. It stood on its own and was unique enough to keep me intrigued. Yes, there are errors but even books from large publishers aren’t completely error free. There weren’t that many and it didn’t distract me from the story.

I found Ivy to be an interesting mix of light and dark. She was stronger than she realized. Collin is the bad boy everyone loves and wants to reform. He’s typical in every way, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Then there’s Eric, who is so blinded by his beliefs he struggles to see the truth until it’s nearly too late.

Be warned, it ends on a cliffhanger.

If you want to be entertained for a few hours, and enjoy paranormal young adult romances, give Demon Kissed a try.

*Disclaimer: Neither the publisher nor author requested a review. I purchased/borrowed a copy from Amazon. The review above is only my opinion.

Book Blitz: Damned When I Didn’t by Cherie Colyer #paranormalromance #youngadult @CherieColyer

Damned When I Didn’t
Cherie Colyer
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication date: November 18th 2020
Genres: Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult

Death isn’t the end for eighteen-year-old Avery Williams, and her final resting place isn’t beyond the Golden Gates. No, the Queen of the Damned has plans for her and, unbeknownst to Avery, fought hard to gain possession of her soul.

As Hell’s newest succubus, Avery is expected to siphon life from the living. It only takes a long, meaningful kiss, but for a virgin like Avery, kissing guys she barely knows isn’t something she’s comfortable doing. Avery focuses on the upside of her fate—she’ll be returning home, or so she thinks. When the Queen of the Damned cuts her off from her old life, Avery is determined to find a way back to her family and friends, even if it means facing Hell’s fury if she’s caught.

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EXCERPT:

I kicked my sneakers off near the kitchen stools and dropped my purse on the floor.

“What’s your problem?” Cole asked. He stood a few feet from me, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.” I breathed in deep, trying to calm myself. The stench of cheap perfume invaded my nostrils. I covered my nose with my hand. “You reek of imitation lavender and…and…onions.”

Cole tossed his keys onto the counter. Obvious confusion flittered over his features only to be replaced with the realization that I was referring to the scents of the waitress.

“You’re one to talk!” he spit back. “You stink of Sport Goofy.”

“Sport Goofy, I mean Marcus, barely touched me.” Cole gave off such a strong odor, I was sure the waitress had put her hands all over him.

Cole stepped closer, placing his hands on the counter on either side of me, caging me in.

“And I barely touched her,” he growled. “When a human’s life force flows from them to us, our souls grow brighter and—”

“We smell like them,” I said, finishing his sentence. He’d told me that once.

“And because our senses become sharper, we know when our kind renews.” The blue in his irises was more pronounced than I’d remembered. I bit my lip to keep from asking him if that was because of my heightened vision or because he’d renewed, as he called it. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

I felt my face warm, and I had to fight to keep my gaze from traveling to his lips. Did I want to admit that I was irrationally jealous that he’d kissed another girl? Nope. So, instead, I said, “Her smell makes me want to puke.”

“Eau de Jock is doing the same to me.”

“You’re the one who called Sport Goofy,” I reminded him.

He smiled, clearly happy that I’d called Marcus by the nickname.

“You’re the one who pissed off the Queen of the Damned,” he countered.

I twitched a shoulder. “I still can’t stand how you smell right now.”

“Fine!” He grabbed me just under my butt and lifted me over his shoulder. I screamed. He held my legs, keeping me from falling.

“What are you doing?” I grabbed his waist from my upside down position.

“You think I smell?”

“Reek. And you said I do, too! Now put me down!”

“Let’s fix that.”

He marched to the bathroom with me slung over his shoulder. The next thing I knew we were standing in the tub. He continued to hold me like a sack of rice.

“Cole?”

He slid me down his chest so I stood in front of him with his arms keeping me from moving.

“Cole?”

He reached behind me.

I glanced up at the showerhead, then to the knob next to me. “You wouldn’t!”

“Want to bet?”

My Review: 5 stars !

Demons, Nephilim, and so much more… If you’re looking for your next paranormal read, you can’t go wrong with Damned When I Didn’t!

They say not to judge a book by its cover, but I rather like the cover for Damned When I Didn’t. In fact, it’s a large part of what made me want to read this particular title. I saw it and needed to know more. But when it comes to people, what you see isn’t always what you get. It’s a lesson Avery has to learn, especially when it comes to her mentor, Cole. It never occurred to Avery that just as she didn’t earn her way to hell, and her new position as a succubus, that perhaps the super hot Cole didn’t earn his place there either.

I loved seeing the push and pull between Avery and Cole. Both drawn to one another, yet not willing to accept their attraction. Not only does their budding romance draw the reader in, but the banter between them, and the mix of other awesome characters, makes Damnmed When I Didn’t a page-turning read you won’t want to put down. A half-demon, a Nephilim, and another incubus are just some of the charming characters you’ll find in this intriguing, must-read book. I truly hope we’ll get to see more of them in the future.

Damned If I Didn’t is the perfect mix of romance, drama, and friendship. You won’t be disappointed!

**Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for allowing me to read an ARC of Damned If I Didn’t. The review above is my honest opinion.

Author Bio:

Cherie Colyer is the author of Challenging Destiny and the Embrace series. When she’s not getting the fictional people in her life into trouble, she can be found solving network issues at work, spending time with family and friends, reading, or exploring the great outdoors.

Cherie lives in Illinois with her family.

To learn more about Cherie and her novels visit http://www.CherieColyer.com

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