Karma by Kate Allenton

Betrayal_BookDesign1

 

 

What you give is what you get.

True statement when it comes to Karma Montgomery, the Supreme Being that issues just what her name implies. Karma

A flick of the wrist, a twitch of the nose and her charges always got what they reaped. Some good, most not. A trip to hell was in the cards for her current charge and she was going to make the bastard pay. When her raging libido gets in the way of performing her job, and an evil soul escapes capture, there is no way of knowing she’ll be personally responsible for spawning Armageddon. Armed with her witty personality, and her five inch heels, she’d do practically anything to set the record straight. Especially if it meant working with the man she’d been trying for a decade to seduce. Her Reaper.

Reap was damn good at his job. Soul extraction was his specialty. There wasn’t a soul or demon in Hell that would think twice about going up against him. So when his partner, the feisty little five foot redhead, lets her raging libido get in the way of their latest extraction, he’s assigned to help her right the wrong. The sweet taste of his own personal revenge dangling as a prize for completing the task, he’d keep his eye on the ball, and not on her ass, to save the world – even if it killed him.

A rogue soul, an unruly Essence, and an unquenchable desire brewing between Reap and Karma might be more than either one of them bargained for.

EXCERPT

Karma adjusted the knife in her thigh-high black boots and grinned. She’d been called lots of things during her existence and bitch was sitting pretty high on top of the list. Tonight she was going to prove the name had been created just for her. Another bar, another asshole, even worse than the last one she’d sent to hell. She stepped into the barely lit building and paused while taking in her surroundings. Squinting through the smoke, she inhaled, taking in a mixture of cheap perfume coupled with expensive aftershave and tainted with the undeniable smell of sex. This wasn’t your typical let’s hang out with friends on a Friday night and get drunk type of bar. It wasn’t even the type of bar to drink your sorrows away. This bar specialized in prostitutes and men who thrived from being unfaithful. An underlying sense of desire coursed through the establishment walls. She was in the right place. No other seedy joints for miles.

The bar was darkened to hide the sins of the patrons in the nearby booths, but she knew what they were doing. It was her job to know. She was Karma. The one and the same that comes back around ten-fold when you’ve been naughty. Judge, jury, and executioner all in a pair of her favorite five-inch-heel studded boots.

She sauntered into the bar, ignoring the glares from the partially clad women and the arousal of the businessmen, in stiff suits, out for a quickie and good time. Her black leather skirt conformed and stretched over her generously endowed ass, pulling and shifting with each step. A quick glance at her watch and she sighed. Her target was late. Had her best friend, Destiny, been wrong with the when and where?

Pressing her fire engine red lips together, she slid onto the nearest bar stool. The move inched her skirt a little higher on her legs, giving the man beside her a glimpse at her silky thigh-highs attached only by a matching black garter. She was sex and sin, and she was in the right place for that. There was only one way to take the bastard down and to win her bet, and she was dressed for the part.

The bartender appeared immediately in front of her, eager and willing to serve and, from the looks of it, he’d much rather serve her more than a simple drink.  “What can I get you, doll?”

“Vodka straight up.”

“Sure thing, honey.” His eyes, hooded with desire, and his black pants did little to hide where his thoughts had strayed.

She watched the reflections, of the people behind her, in the mirror hanging behind the bar. She didn’t have to see him to know when her counterpart appeared. His essence alone drifted through the air, caressing her skin like an old lover. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Fresh rain and sex, the scents dampened her panties every time. She opened her eyes and continued to watch him through the mirror, never turning to offer her location. He’d find her soon enough. He always did. He scanned the rough smoky bar, past the women drooling and the men puffing out their chests. It was the same wherever one of the essences went, another reason why she was tired of this damn job. His crystal blue eyes met hers in the reflection. His mouth hardened in barely contained fury and she had to press her legs together to ignore the throb. This man defined sin.

He moved with long, sure strides until he stood behind her with his bronzed, bulging arms crossed over his chest. His normal sky blue eyes swirled with gray like a darkening sky during an approaching storm. She’d barely contained herself at the last meeting and had reached for the cannons he called arms. A million times, she’d been left horny and wanting while waiting for the day he’d take her in his arms and fuck her like the wanton woman she turned into when he was around. One roll in the hay, was that too much to ask for?

“What are you doing here, Karma?”

She slowly spun around, seductively crossing her legs. His eyes never strayed, never even acknowledging the move she’d performed just for his benefit. Bastard. Maybe the rumors were true. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Have a seat, stud. The party is just getting started, and you won’t want to miss this.”

 

BUY LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Karma-Kate-Allenton-ebook/dp/B00I1PUFFQ

Shifter Paradise

Not My Shifter

Not My Shifter and Sinfully Cursed are the first two books in a brand new shifter series written by Jessica Coulter-Smith and Kate Allenton.

Paradise Falls is a town where misfits and shifters collide and these are their stories.

Not my Shifter

Devlin St.Claire is a whole lot of trouble, with a badge. Kicking ass and arresting unruly paranormals is all in a day’s work for Devlin. Her hatred for the shifter population has gotten her into more trouble than not, especially with her boss. She’s a little spitfire just waiting to explode on the first shifter who crosses her path. Imagine her surprise when that shifter turns out to be her mate. So what happens when her new mate is accused of not one murder but two?

She has no choice but to fight back the only way she knows how – a bit of detective work and a little brute force. One way or another, she’s going to prove that Jameson Starke is innocent.

As the sexual tension becomes damn near unbearable, only one question remains. Will she be able to walk away from one night of passion, even if his life depends on her staying?

Sinfully Cursed

A wingless fairy, a demon, and a crystal sound like the making of a bad joke. When hardnosed cop, Quinn Montgomery, unknowingly walks right into the middle of a P.I.T.S. investigation where he discovers all three in an abandoned alley, there was no way to prepare himself for how his life was about to change. When a newfound destiny is thrust upon him, he falls into a chaotic world filled with unfamiliar rules and a bossy fairy he’d like to seduce.

Fairy, Parker McKenna, has worked hard her whole life to overcompensate for her short comings. Proving herself everyday by catching the bad guys has become second nature to the P.I.T.S. Detective. When one bad bust goes wrong and a human almost dies on her sting, she deserves whatever punishment she has coming. Nothing could have prepared her for the curve ball thrown her way. With off the charts sexual tension, and a witch’s warning to keep her hands to herself, what’s a fairy to do?

A curse. A family secret. A hidden agenda. Against all odds, Parker will do anything to save Quinn, even if it means saving him from himself.

 

EXCERPT

Devlin narrowed her eyes at the large shifter, his meaty arm pressed to her throat, his bulk blocking out the other bar patrons. The sounds of the raucous crowd hadn’t dimmed since their altercation began, so she doubted anyone was paying them any attention. She knew she shouldn’t have let him goad her into a fight, but she hated shifters, especially werewolves, and hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity to put big and smelly in his place. He’d gotten in one or two licks but hadn’t done any permanent damage. She’d have a bruise or two by morning, but that’s all.

Shifting her hips, she angled her leg between his, hooking her foot behind his knee. Devlin gripped his arm and twisted her torso, throwing her shoulder into him. She knocked him off balance and took him to the ground. It was a textbook maneuver and would’ve gone down smoothly if the fucker hadn’t hung onto her like he was Velcroed to her ass. A quick elbow to his gut released his hold on her, and she rolled to her feet.

He grabbed her leg with his ham-like hand, his fingers sliding up toward her thigh, and she saw red. Baring her teeth, she drew back her foot and nailed him right between the legs, feeling more than a little satisfied when he dropped his hand to grab his crotch, howling long and loud in agony.

“The next time you grab a lady on the ass, make sure she wants your attention, asshole,” she spat at him. “The amount of alcohol I’d need to consume in order to sleep with you would probably kill me.”

She stepped over his body, now curled in a fetal position, and strolled up to the bar. Signaling the bartender, she ordered a shot of whiskey. Her body was still thrumming with excitement, every nerve alive and screaming for more action. She needed something to calm her down. About the only way she was going to burn off this energy would be a hard night at the gym, or a long night of lovemaking. Seeing as how she was between boyfriends, she didn’t see that as an option. Not that she’d ever truly had a boyfriend. Fuck buddies were more her style. Unfortunately, her last one had decided he’d had enough of playing the field and had gotten married two days ago.

Slamming her shot glass down on the bar, she turned and surveyed the room. The werewolf was still down, but he’d drawn a crowd of sympathizers. More shifters.  Just what she needed. The place was crawling with them. Hell, there was even a vampire at the end of the bar. But she wasn’t here to bust anyone tonight. She’d come to O’Leary’s to kick back and relax, blow off steam. A smile spread across her full lips. She’d blown off steam all right.

Her eyes cut to the werewolf again. Hmm. Trouble seemed to be brewing. Two shifters separated from the group and were ambling toward the bar with her in their sights. One was short and wiry, probably a cat shifter. His spiky hair was gelled to perfection, and his skin held the honeyed glow of a warm tan. The other was taller, with lean muscles and a hard edge to him. His eyes were shifty, his nose blade thin. Werewolf? No, that wasn’t right. He seemed cagey, as if he wasn’t used to being in civilized company. Coyote.

They stopped in front of her, hatred burning in their eyes. The smaller one looked her up and down, his look both lascivious and insolent. It was clear that he wanted her yet didn’t want to want her. Not that she gave a rat’s ass what he wanted. If he laid one finger on her, she’d feed him his teeth.

“Can I help you boys with something?” she asked.

“That was a cheap shot,” the bigger one said. “In a fair fight, you’d have never taken down Big Mike.”

Big Mike? Seriously? She snorted. “Yeah, well, Big Mike cries like a little baby.”

The smaller one gave her a chilly smile. “If you’re so sure of yourself, maybe you’d like to go up against a real fighter.”

“Sure. When one gets here, you let me know.” With a smirk, she turned around, dismissing them. She wasn’t completely stupid though. She could see them in the mirror over the bar and watched as they made a move on her. Spinning around, she kicked out at the bigger one, sending him staggering back several paces. Hmm. Not the result she was going for. He should’ve been knocked on his ass, possibly even been thrown across the room. Her kicks had been known to do some serious damage.

The smaller one attacked, coming at her with a right hook. She brought up her arm, blocking him effectively, and slammed the heel of her hand up into his nose, breaking it. She watched as his eyes teared and he grabbed his broken snout. But she didn’t have time to do anything more because the coyote was on her again.

Everyone had cleared a path for them, giving them more than enough room. A few cheered them on, some yelling for the men to put the bitch in her place. If they weren’t careful, they’d be on her list next. She could do this all night long and never get winded.

The coyote howled and rushed her, his hands out, fingers curved like claws. She braced her feet, bent her knees, and waited. When he was close enough, she dropped her hip and launched a punch to his solar plexus. It didn’t stop him, but it stunned him momentarily. While he was confused, she snapped a sidekick into his stomach, sending him backward several feet.

Devlin advanced on him. He came at her with a swinging punch, but she blocked it and nailed him with one of her own, right across his left cheek. She felt the bone give under her knuckles and smiled at his roar of pain and fury. He launched himself at her, shoving his shoulder into her stomach and knocking her back a few paces, but she didn’t falter. She brought her elbow down hard where his neck met his shoulder. When he released her, she brought her knee up into his face, clipping his chin before he had a chance to raise his head.

The coyote rose to his full height, towering over her five-foot-three-inch frame. Before he could come at her again, Devlin spun, her leg arcing. A moment later her heel connected with his temple, knocking him out cold. The shifter fell to the floor in a boneless heap.

The shouts and cheering stopped as everyone stared in both horror and fascination. One pint-sized woman had just taken out three men – shifters – who were much larger than her. She could tell by their faces that they weren’t sure if they should be in awe or be afraid. Fear worked for her.

“Anyone else?” she taunted. “Is there anyone else who wants to get their ass kicked tonight?”

The crowd moved back, giving her space. They parted like the Red Sea as she made her way back to the bar. Devlin smacked the wood bar top twice, and the bartender slid another whiskey down to her. She caught it easily and threw it back in one gulp. It burned going down, the fire licking its way down her throat and into her chest. Throwing some cash down, she stepped away from the bar and sauntered to the exit, feeling every eye in the place on her.

She slammed her hands against the door, shoving it open and stepped out into the brisk night air. The black stiletto boots encasing her tiny feet clicked on the concrete as she made her way to her pride and joy. As she slid into the candy apple red Mustang, her black leather pants squeaked against the leather seats. Closing the door, she engaged the locks and started the engine, smiling as her baby purred to life.

Tilting the mirror down, she fluffed her long red hair, wiped away a smudge of lipstick, and winked at her reflection, her green eyes sparkling with mischief and mayhem. Her blood was still pumping from the fight, and she wasn’t ready to go home.

A commotion across the lot caught her attention. Two men were arguing, the smaller one gesturing wildly. But it was the larger one who held her attention. He was tall, which was enough to draw her eye, but she found she liked the overall package. Longish brown hair, a tattoo covering one arm, and a glint of something at his ear. An earring perhaps? He had bad boy written all over him.

Devlin licked her lips. If he weren’t in such a heated discussion, she’d get out and go introduce herself. She needed a diversion tonight, and she had a feeling he’d be more than adequate in the sack. Just looking at him set her on fire.

Mr. Lickable hefted the smaller guy by his neck, and she wondered if she should step in. She reached for her door handle, but her phone went off, the ringtone indicating it was the chief. Tearing her eyes away from the scene before her, she answered the call.

“St. Claire,” she said, holding the phone to her ear.

“Do you want to explain to me why I just received a call from O’Leary’s that you’ve been in a bar brawl with not one but three shifters?” the chief yelled into the phone.

Betrayal by Kate Allenton

Available Now!

Excerpt:

Freddie Sinclair thrashed through the trees, his arms pushing and breaking through limbs and brush as he raced through the thick forest in his attempt at a quick escape. He’d watched as a silent witness as the Phantoms killed Floyd. A grin spread on his lips, knowing that his biggest territory rival had failed in his quest for power. He’d killed himself with his own arrogance, thinking that he wielded more power than his opponents. Freddie’s fingers had twitched, and his heartbeat had quickened overhearing the Phantoms’ conversation about a vial containing unlimited possibilities. His lungs burned the harder his feet pounded the earth below. He needed to get out before they noticed him and killed him as well.

His boot caught on a tree stump, forcing him to the ground with a thud, pushing the air from his lungs. He pushed up with pure determination and a will to survive, sprinting faster to make up for lost time. The red of his Maserati peeked from beneath the limbs he’d used to camouflage its hiding place and called to him like a beacon, taunting him that his freedom was in sight. Unable to stop, he slammed into the side of his car, yanked the door open, and shoved the key in the ignition. Time was his only enemy now. He grabbed his phone and speed dialed the one man who could get him what he needed.

Pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he threw the car into gear, flicking rocks and dust as he hurried to capture his fate.  “Look for a vial and get out,” he growled into the phone. “It’s probably in Floyd’s office, possibly in his safe. I don’t care if you have to take the whole damn thing. Get it and get out.” He drew in a deep breath as he pushed harder on the gas pedal, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure he didn’t have a tail. “The Phantoms killed Floyd, and they’ll be there soon looking for answers.”

About the Book:

For years, Gracie Lister has fostered an image of party-goer and all-around bad girl. After trying to convince her father, the leader of the Phantom Protectors, that she was just as resourceful as anyone under his command, she’d given up hope of ever being accepted, and who could blame her? Never measuring up to her father’s standards was something she learned early on to embrace. Now she knows it’s time to ditch the persona she’s created and show the world what she’s truly made of.  After successfully infiltrating the last territory boss and helping to bring the man down, how hard could it be to do again? She knows she’s headed in the right direction and will stop at nothing to bring down the man who threatens her happiness. When long-forgotten memories emerge, they threaten not only her game of spy she’s playing but also her life. Left broken and betrayed, she struggles to find the energy and strength to fight back.

Second-in-command Ridge Connors likes his life neat and tidy. He lives for the dangerous missions, constantly proving his rightful place within the Protectors hierarchy. When tasked with babysitting the one woman who is strictly off limits, he must struggle to douse the fire she ignites inside him long enough to keep her alive.

Mastermind Freddie Sinclair has plans of his own to set in motion. Awakening Gracie’s long-forgotten memories and secrets is part of his master plan. When she realizes she’s nothing but a pawn in his game for power, the real fun begins.