Boundaries by AJ Graham #BDSM #DarkFantasy #PNR

Sacrifices of the body cannot compare with the ecstasy that comes from sacrifices of the heart.

Bound by Blood: For centuries, sacrificial offerings have kept peace between humans and the immortal Kin who feed on their blood. When his sister is chosen, Daniel offers himself in her place. Daniel has grown up believing the Kin to be heartless monsters. He never imagined the Kin lord’s touch would stir hiss body and heart, would make him crave the very thing he’d always feared: the sweet, sharp burn of fangs in his neck.

Bound by Desire: Keelie al’Trega marries Lord Kalen to secure peace between their two planets. Then she learns the terrible truth — becoming his mate will create an unbreakable psychic bond between them, a bond so intense and powerful that it can drive a person insane. Is Kalen worth the risk?

No Shame: Paul’s never told anyone about his fantasies of being spanked and flogged, until he meets Kade — a sensual, experienced man who offers to fulfill his every hidden desire. But Paul soon realizes that he might be in over his head…

Flesh and Spirit: Rose has always dreamed of serving Kalia, the goddess of healing and pleasure. But in order to become a priestess, she has to complete a ritual in which she casts aside all inhibitions and enters a trance of sexual ecstasy. Gabe and Rafe are more than happy to help her complete her Initiation. But can Rose handle what they have in mind?

Publisher’s Note: Boundaries (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Bound by Blood, Bound by Desire, No Shame, and Flesh and Spirit.

Available Today at Changeling Press

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Praise for Bound by Blood

“A very enjoyable read.”

4.5 Diamonds — S. K. Fero, Got Erotic Romance! Reviews

“[the author] has created an amazing saga packed with social truths, emotions and spectacular lovemaking.”

5 Nymphs — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs

Praise for Bound by Desire

“If you like classic romance plots and have been missing the virgin/arranged marriage stories in erotic novels, this book is definitely for you.”

— Elizabeth Charles, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 AJ Graham
Excerpt from
 Bound by Blood

Daniel sat upright in the saddle, wrists bound, as his horse plodded forward. The coarse ropes chafed his skin, and fear twisted his guts into knots, but he kept his face calm and expressionless. He would hold onto his dignity, he promised himself, no matter what happened. It was all he had left.

Moonlight silvered the leaves of the forest as the procession rode single file down the narrow path. A guard rode behind him, and another in front to keep him from running away. They needn’t have worried. He did not intend to escape. If he did, his sister would suffer in his place.

He tried not to think of what awaited him at the end of the path. Instead, he thought of Sara safe and alive, baking bread with their mother, riding her favorite mare through the fields, picking wildflowers.

The procession stopped in a large, round clearing. Daniel’s two escorts dismounted. They were both men from the village, men he knew. They wouldn’t look him in the eye. Tom — the village baker — looked around, the whites of his eyes flashing like those of a frightened horse. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “They’ll be here any minute,” he muttered.

“Aye,” replied Ben, the other escort. He glanced over his shoulder at Daniel, looked down, shook his head, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I tell you, Tom, I hate this arrangement. It ain’t right, offering our young men and women to these blood-suckers. Sometimes I think it was better in the old days, when we hunted –“

“Shhh! You want them to hear you?”

“They can’t hear us,” he said, irritation creeping into his voice. “They aren’t here yet.”

“You don’t know that,” Tom shot back. “One of ’em could be standing right next to you, and you wouldn’t know it unless he spoke.” He glared at Ben. “None of us like this arrangement, but it’s the only way. In the old days, people died. The offerings keep things peaceful. Keeps the blood-suckers from our village. As for the offerings… well, it’s the price we pay. It’s not like they kill them.”

“No.” Ben lowered his voice even more, but Daniel could still make out the words. “But what they do to them is probably worse.”

“Hush!”

Daniel’s hands clenched, nails pressing into his palms. “It’s all right,” he said. Despite his efforts to keep his voice steady, it trembled. “I’m not afraid.” It was a lie, and they all knew it. Ben and Tom exchanged guilty glances.

They waited. Daniel’s ears caught the thump of approaching hoof beats. He tensed.

At the edge of the clearing, a black horse emerged from the shadows. It was huge, muscular; its coat sleek and glossy. The rider wore dark, close-fitting trousers, which showed off his long, lean legs, and his black cloak billowed in the wind. Beneath it was a tight shirt of black leather, molded to the contours of his body. He was slender but hard, all sculpted muscle, his abdomen flat and trim. His skin was white, as if it had never seen sunlight… and he was stunningly, unnervingly beautiful, as beautiful as a woman, though it was impossible to mistake him for one. A breeze ruffled his short hair, which gleamed a pale silver, like moonlight on water. And his eyes…

Daniel’s heartbeat quickened as he stared into those ruby eyes. He had never seen one of the Kin face to face. That pale face was as cold and expressionless as a statue’s. There was no trace of feeling in those blood-red eyes. They flicked over the two cowering escorts, then focused on Daniel.

“Is this the offering?” The Kin lord’s voice was deep and full. It seemed to reverberate in the pit of Daniel’s stomach, in the marrow of his bones.

Tom took a deep breath and straightened. “Yes, my lord.”

“I was told that the offering this year would be a young woman.”

Tom glanced at Daniel and cleared his throat. “Aye, that was the intent. But this young man — Daniel — volunteered to take the place of his sister.”

Silver brows lifted. He looked at Daniel. “Is this true?”

Daniel swallowed. “Yes.” His voice sounded very small.

“How old are you, Daniel?”

“Twenty.”

For a long moment, the Kin lord stared at him. That ruby gaze held him immobile. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He felt as though those eyes could see straight into his head, as if they were examining every particle of his soul, weighing and measuring unseen qualities. At last, the man nodded. “Very well. Unbind his hands and let him dismount.”

With shaking hands, Tom unbound Daniel’s wrists. Daniel dismounted. His heart knocked like a fist against his chest as he walked toward the huge, black horse and the silver-haired man. He looked over his shoulder, but Tom and Ben would not meet his gaze.

“You two may go,” the silver-haired man said. “Take his horse with you. He won’t need it.”

Still avoiding Daniel’s gaze, they turned their horses and walked them out of the clearing. Daniel’s mare followed. He took a deep breath and approached the Kin lord.

Ruby eyes stared down at him. The man stretched out a hand. Daniel took it — the skin was smooth as marble — and the Kin lord pulled him onto the horse. Daniel gasped. There was no saddle. He gripped the horse with his thighs.

“Hold on to me,” said the Kin lord.

Daniel hesitated, then placed his hands gingerly on the man’s shoulders.

“Not like that.” There was a touch of gentle amusement in his voice. “Put your arms around my waist.”

Daniel bit his lower lip. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around that dagger-slim waist. His chest pressed against the man’s hard back. The Kin lord gave his mount a light tap with his heels. The horse snorted, tossed its head, and began to walk.

“My name is Vale, but you may address me as Master.”

“Yes, Master,” Daniel said quietly.

Vale looked over his shoulder. His crimson eyes reflected Daniel’s face. There were no discernable pupils, just two solid, ruby disks that seemed to burn with their own inner light. “You volunteered to take your sister’s place, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Daniel hesitated. “She’s younger than me by four years. She’s in love with a man whom she’s planning to marry one day. And my parents adore her. The whole village adores her. So do I. She’s always treated me with more kindness than anyone else. When she was chosen as the offering, everyone was devastated. I could not bear to think of her being taken away from all those who love her.” He remembered the moment of sinking dread as a village elder had read Sara’s name from the scrap of paper he’d drawn, blindfolded, from a wooden box.

“And you? Will they not be devastated by your loss, as well?”

Self-conscious, Daniel dropped his gaze. “I…”

“Look at me.”

Daniel looked up and met those cool, expressionless eyes. “No, Master, they won’t miss me much.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

AJ Graham has a passion for cold weather, unusual beers, and anything otherworldly.  Dragons, demons, shapeshifters and psychics have always populated their imagination, but sometimes the real world can be just as fascinating and mysterious.  And no matter the genre, AJ has always loved stories about soulmates connecting.  Whether it’s instant, explosive passion or a slow burn, the power of two (or more) minds and bodies coming together to form a greater whole is always a story worth telling.  AJ lives in the Chicago suburbs with their husband.

Harri Unbound by Rebecca York #paranormalromance #romanticsuspense #darkfantasy

When the ruthless magician Madrin dies, opportunists seek revenge for his cruelty. They kidnap his daughters, meaning to sell them into sexual slavery at a brutal club for sadistic, wealthy men. Lady Harri Madrin manages to escape before the doors close behind them and vows to rescue her sister, Morgan.

Gareth Lamb, the handsome son of a local merchant, finds Harri and hides her from her furious pursuers. When she begs him to help rescue her sister, he agrees. They decide to pretend she is his concubine so they can gain entry to the club to search for Morgan.

The master-slave charade forces them into sizzling erotic encounters. Soon, they fall in love, but Gareth knows he could never aspire to marriage with the high-born Lady Harri.

Though Harri’s magical abilities give them an edge, they’re badly outnumbered by the slavers. Even if they manage to rescue Morgan, will Gareth’s disapproving father disown him if they declare their love and attempt to marry?

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Rebecca York

Harri Madrin woke in her narrow bed in the dark hours of the night. For a moment she thought she might be dreaming — until she realized there was some sort of disturbance in the convent, something she had never heard in this place of tranquility.

With moonlight streaming through the narrow window, she slipped across the stone floor of the small chamber to where her sister still slumbered. “Morgan, wake up. Something bad is happening.”

Her younger sister’s eyes blinked open as the sound of rough male voices came closer. Men in the convent? Never, unless there was some task that the vestals could not accomplish on their own. And never at night.

Sister Matilda rushed into the room. “Hurry, you must hide! They are after you.” She had always been kind to them, and now her wrinkled face was full of fear.

“Who? Why?”

“For revenge. Your father is dead.”

Harri felt nothing for her sire besides a flood of relief. In all her eighteen years, she had feared her father, the magician, Madrin. Now he would no longer rail at her for being born the wrong sex — and for not inheriting any of his powers. Or so he thought. He was incorrect about the latter, but she had kept that knowledge from him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her talent. It was the same for her sister, Morgan.

“You must hide before they find you.” Sister Matilda urged.

“But where?”

“Come with me,” she pleaded.

“We must dress,” Morgan protested.

“No time.” The elderly vestal ushered them out of their room. The stone floor was cold on their bare feet as they followed the sister to a small chapel. She led them up the aisle to the front of the room, then removed two candlesticks and opened the top of the altar where they saw a deep cavity under the horizontal surface.

“In with you.”

The girls climbed into the box, curling on their sides and scrunching down to fit into the space.

“I will come back for you when it’s safe,” Sister Matilda promised before lowering the lid. The sound of metal hitting wood told Harri she had replaced the candlesticks.

Harri moved in the cramped space, trying to get comfortable. She froze when a rough male voice demanded, “What have you done with them?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying, you old bitch.”

“You dare such sacrilege?”

“You are no better than Madrin, sheltering his demon’s spawn.”

The words were followed by the sound of a hand slapping against flesh. Sister Matilda cried out in pain.

“Where are they?”

There was no answer, but Harri heard something hitting the floor. She crammed her fist against her mouth as she struggled not to scream.

Outside in the chapel, a whirlwind of destruction erupted — heavy pews being tossed about, glass breaking. And then silence.

Harri trembled in their hiding place, and she could feel her sister’s similar vibrations.

Footsteps approached the altar, and she struggled to keep her teeth from chattering. A sweeping noise sent the candlesticks clattering to the stones. The top creaked up, and Harri cringed away.

“And what have we here?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author Rebecca York began her career as a journalist writing articles for newspapers and magazines, but after several years decided to try writing fiction. She’s a highly successful author of over 50 romantic suspense and paranormal novels and is the head of the Columbia Writers Workshop. Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. Her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series. She collects rocks, and enjoys cooking, walking, reading, gardening, travel, and Mozart operas.

RELEASE BLITZ: Kelpie’s Claiming by Alexa Piper #LGBTQ #PNR #Suspense @prowlingpiper @changelingpress

Title: Kelpie’s Claiming

Series: Fairview Chronicles 10

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 147 pages

Genre: Romance, Mystery, Thriller/Suspense, Paranormal Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Shapeshifters

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Synopsis

Rob’s current goal in life? Do not eat people. That’s easier said than done when you’re a kelpie in the service industry. While Rob pursues his goals from behind the bar, a stranger walks in, and Rob catches the man’s scent. Yet, patrons are not for eating, and it should have ended there… except when Rob smells that delicious scent again, the beautiful stranger needs help.

Bertrand wants to fit in, but because he’s part Fae, part Elf, and grew up human, he’s not really at home in either human or supernatural society. Still, he likes being a reporter and following a story all the way to its conclusion. The story he’s pursuing when he walks into Rob’s bar one night is one of supernaturals going missing, and Bertrand seems to be the only one who cares.

Meeting Bertrand might just shift Rob’s life goals. Coming face-to-face with a kelpie stallion might be enough to help Bertrand see where he fits in perfectly. Except Bertrand doesn’t really know what to make of Rob, and also, Bertrand’s missing persons story is bigger than even he envisioned. It’s turning into a case of abduction and trafficking he needs to unravel before he can even think about Rob’s advances. The story will lead Bertrand to some dark places before the year is out.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

Rob

In his more philanthropic youth, Rob had been excited about opening a bar-slash-diner and making a name for his establishment. He had succeeded with the Ragdoll, which was known for amazing sandwiches and exquisite liquor concoctions in supernatural circles and human circles alike. Going fully vegetarian had been the logical choice for Rob when he’d moved to the city of Fairview.

Now, he had over twenty years in the service industry under his belt, and the occasional slice of liver sounded so appealing when Rob had to cling on to his smile for all he was worth in front of a customer. It was why he’d hired a half-succubus and sexy Ilya whatever-he-was to handle the personal interactions.

(Rob was convinced Ilya could have, if he’d ever shown the inclination, charmed the pants off a barstool if barstools wore pants.) But now, with Ilya in love with a disgustingly rich witch and consequently out of town for whatever spell the Fey had planned to put on Rob’s most beloved employee, Rob had to pick up the slack behind the bar. And Ilya’s brother was not a suitable replacement, even if he was responding well to getting trained for the job.

“There is not enough rum in this,” the customer told Rob again, and Rob was pulled from his musings and back to wishing for a slice of liver.

“I’m ever so sorry,” Rob said without conviction. He looked up from the lime he was about to dismember on his cutting board behind the bar and glanced over the customer’s shoulder at Titi. The busboy was taking down the Fat Man Day decorations and prepping the Ragdoll for Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day. There would be even more early drinkers here on Sparklers and Public Drunkenness Day, and Rob would have to be behind the bar, because sweet Ilya was getting bewitched.

“So are you gonna make me a new one?” the customer asked. Apparently, the red-faced man in his thirties with a beer belly threatening already was still there. At three in the afternoon. To consume rum cocktails. Not that Rob was the judgy type.

Rob had no intention of making another Mai Tai. He took a step to his right, located the dark rum, and poured the customer another finger of the liquor into his glass. “There you go,” Rob said, giving the man his best take it or leave it look.

The man looked from Rob to the cocktail, back again, and took it. He was complaining under his breath as he moved back to the table he’d occupied with two equally annoying male companions. The beer bellies were imminent in all of them, in Rob’s opinion. Sadly, that meant their livers would be fatty rather than yummy.

“Sorry,” Ilya’s brother said. Rob looked over to the man, who wore a black button-down shirt and jeans, but not as well as Ilya. He didn’t look half as sexy as Ilya. Rob still could not understand how that worked, how they were related. Ilya was a mysterious pale-skinned and raven-haired delight (who could easily handle over-drunk patrons with his charm). Kyle was plain dishwater blond. It made no sense, apart from being unfair to Rob, who would have loved nothing better than two Ilyas behind his bar.

“It’s fine,” Rob said. “The drink wasn’t the issue.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes and looked at the floor. “Okay.”

Rob frowned. Kyle was an odd one, but he followed direction perfectly. The real downside was simply that he wasn’t the sexy barman his brother was.

“Really, it’s okay. Some people just need to be assholes, and there is nothing you can do about that.” He patted Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle jerked a little at the contact before he relaxed.

Rob felt that was enough life advice, so he went back to murdering the lime. About five seconds later, the door opened, and on a breeze of cold air, the local mage and one of her lovers drifted into the bar. This lover (the nice one) was slightly too chatty for Rob’s taste, but judging by the time, the two of them were just here for a late lunch or coffee and something sweet. (This time, Rob hoped they wouldn’t have their… dessert in the ladies’ room. Rob wasn’t a prude by any means, he just disliked cleaning a bathroom after people spent time on their knees in there for whatever reason, and it was extra work, even if Kyle happily volunteered each time.)

Predictably, after the mage — in conversation with the nice lover — waved hello at Rob and Kyle, who seemed like he wanted to hide under the bar at seeing her, they made for a table rather than the bar. Rob knew Ilya, and possibly the Fey witch, had gotten the mage to become a regular, and it made Rob miss his night bartender all the more.

Kyle sidled up close to Rob. “Uhm, do you want me to serve them?” he asked quietly.

Rob put his knife down. This lime was getting lucky, for now. “I can do it. I don’t think she bites, and that lover definitely doesn’t.”

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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | BookBub

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RELEALSE BLITZ: Blue Rose by Lena Austin #Fantasy #PNR #LGBTQ @Lena_Austin @changelingpress

Title: Blue Rose

Author: Lena Austin

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: May 13, 2022

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 114 pages

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Alternative Universe, Bisexual Pansexual & Multisexual, Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures

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Synopsis

Princess Zara knows one of royal blood is sometimes forced into political alliances, but what’s wrong with wanting a real Prince Charming? Few princes would want a wife who could best them with any weapon, still, there are more rivals for her hand — and her father’s kingdom — than she expects, but only two catch her eye. Prince Bram seems perfect, but he’s more interested in Prince Kennit than Zara. And the nearsighted Kennit isn’t perfect enough — her father will never approve the marriage.

Prince Kennit knows there’s only one woman for him, but few princesses would find a shape shifting dragon to their liking. When Zara is poisoned, Kennit’s the first to volunteer for the expedition to save the princess, though the quest will lead them deep within the ninth circle of Hell. Zara refuses to be left behind, and Bram’s along for the ride.

Things have changed a little — okay, a lot — since the days of Dante’s Inferno. This time the tourists are Zara, the poisoned princess, and her two suitors. Together they must find a single blue rose in the deepest part of Hell before the next full moon, or Zara will run out of time — and choices.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Lena Austin

Zara shrieked in rage and aimed the next statue from the mantel at her father’s head. The heft of the clay dog might open up his thick skull. “I am not a fucking piece of merchandise!”

“Hang it all, Zara! I don’t like this any more than you do, but I would appreciate the courtesy of being treated like the king now and then!” King Ragnar dodged another object and winced as it shattered behind him. “Damn it! That was your mother’s favorite.”

“She’s been dead for twenty-five years. I don’t think she’ll miss it.” Zara cast about for something else to use as a weapon, but the more useful items were behind her father’s desk, putting her in reach of his burly arms. “Did you already send a herald to announce, ‘One kingdom for sale! Marry the princess and rule Powell Mountains’?”

Ragnar snorted, but kept a wary eye on her. “Thank goodness I had the sense to rule all persons must be disarmed in my presence, or you’d be hacking at me with your sword.” He drew himself up. “As a matter of fact, I did indeed issue invitations to the local princes. They should arrive in time for tonight’s feast.”

Zara swallowed another shriek and ground her teeth instead. “You mean to sell me and the kingdom into marriage quickly, don’t you?”

Ragnar’s fingers opened and closed convulsively, and Zara guessed he’d love to have them around her throat. “At least I’m giving you a choice of princes, you ungrateful wretch. I could have simply chosen one and delivered you to him trussed up like a goose.”

“I’d much rather you changed the law that demands this kingdom be ruled by a wedded pair. Just because you got lucky and found Mother while you were children doesn’t make the law right.” Zara tossed her thick black braid over her shoulder and slammed out of the door, not waiting for a dismissal. The cold fury on her face magically cleared a path through the corridors before her.

She’d known something was wrong when the guardsmen who usually gave her a sword workout were conspicuously absent from the fields. Not even the sergeant looked her in the eye when he informed her they were all out on field maneuvers for the week. She sailed through the doors leading to the back of the castle and noted the guardsmen had miraculously reappeared from their maneuvers.

Now she knew the why of the lie, and her anger soared even higher to realize her father had ordered all her “masculine” activities curtailed. Few princes would find a wife charming when she could best them with any weapon. Fewer still would find her preference for masculine clothes alluring.

Zara turned from the now forbidden joys of beer by the smith’s fire, a joint of beef in the barracks, and the clash of metals on the practice field. She knew better than to approach her old friends and cause them to lie to her further. Her eyes stung, not with pain, but more anger than she’d felt in many a year. Her shoulders slumped as she headed for the cliffs to walk as she often did when troubled. The men would read her posture and know that while she didn’t like it, she’d accepted it wasn’t their fault.

The wind and sky played a tempestuous love affair, whipping her comfortable, woven shirt until it plastered against her body, revealing too many feminine curves even in leather pants and vest. She hated her soft skin, though she’d honed fine muscles beneath the easily bruised flesh, of which there always seemed to be too much. “Can I help it if I’m as tall as a man, and nearly as broad? Certainly not. I refuse to be one of the court wenches who daintily picks at her food and then throws up what little she does eat for fear of not appearing feminine and delicate. Pahh!”

She stepped around a particularly large boulder and beheld a sight so strange it stopped her angry ruminations.

A lanky man stood at the very edge of the cliff, his black cloak seeming to hang in the air as if riding the winds, and his shoulder-length black hair escaped its silver thong to join the cloak in flight. Nothing could be seen of the man’s face, for his back was to Zara, but the whole figure was one of tranquility.

That peace alone intrigued her, for so few could bear the fearful heights, and fewer still dared walk the edge on a day when the winds could yank a full-grown man over the precipice. Either this one was very brave or very crazed.

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Meet the Author

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

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Vintage: The Reincarnation Series by Laura M. Baird #vampires #vampireromance

Vintage: The Reincarnation Series Book 2

by Laura M. Baird

Available at Amazon for 0.99 and in Kindle Unlimited https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09W1D25RN

#vampireromance #vampirenovella

#fatedmates #secondchanceromance

Reginald Cast, a former slave, will do anything to be reunited with his love, Charlotte. Including becoming a vampire.

Renata Charles has visions of another life. When tempted by an appealing mysterious man, she learns she’s Charlotte reincarnated.

Will Renata acknowledge Charlotte’s spirit within her and accept Reginald’s gift of eternal love? Or will the past continue to haunt them and threaten their chance at forever?

Excerpt:

December 1860

Reginald Cast wept without shame while kneeling on the snow-covered ground, his pitiful wails competing with the howling wind. Fingers-turned-to-ice gripped the frigid monument he pressed his head against as he tried to conjure images that usually warmed his soul.

Sparkling blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and a sunshiny smile given freely to everyone she met. His lively Charlotte Tremmington.

Until seven days ago. The amount of time that had passed since she’d been viciously ripped from his world. Her light snuffed, no longer able to glow with endless joy.

When he’d discovered the true cause of her demise, his rage had kept him from landing in the ground alongside her. Although he would’ve gladly rested beside the one he loved if it meant meeting her spirit in Heaven. But he knew that would never happen. Rest beside her, that is. He, a lowly slave, buried in the Tremmington family cemetery, one of the elite families in the Richmond, Virginia area. Even now the thought caused him to scoff amid his cries. Never mind the Tremmingtons were the kindest people he’d ever known.

Unlike those he served.

The Barclays.

Julius Barclay, son of plantation owner, Simmion Barclay. Julius, the man responsible for the death of Reginald’s beloved Charlotte.

Anger and hatred burned anew, causing Reginald to grit his teeth and squeeze the cold stone so hard he thought for sure it’d crumble at his feet.

With steely resolve, he liPed his face, bracing the bitter weather as he stared at the script on the tombstone.

“I love you, Charlotte,” he began, his voice filled with heartbreak. “I will end Julius and live in the hope of seeing you at the end of whatever journey God lays out before me.

He pressed his lips against the scroll of her name then rose, keeping his gaze on the words carved into stone for eternity.

Beloved daughter, loved by all.

Reginald clenched his fists and turned.

About the author:

Laura M. Baird is an award winning and best selling author, offering readers heartwarming to body blushing romance. A semi-retired dental hygienist of twenty-two years and former US Army sergeant, she has plenty of inspiration from life to infuse into her writing. With stories ranging from young adult to mature characters, military romance to paranormal, there’s something for every romance reader to enjoy. When not writing or reading, she’s enjoying her family, residing in the Pacific Northwest, and dreaming of travels across the US as well as Scotland and Fiji.

Laura invites you to check out her website where you’ll find more about her, her books, and all the ways you can follow her journey. https://www.laurambairdauthor.com

Rejected Mates – multiauthor anthology #PNR #UrbanFantasy

Title: Rejected Mates

Authors: Rebecca Hamilton, Kathrin Hutson, Sofia Storm, Eliza Gayle, K.G. Reuss, Brenda Trim, Skye Alder, D.E. Chapman, Rebekah R. Ganiere, Ashley C. Harris, A.G. Harris, Brantwijn Serrah, Stephanie Mirro, Aliyah Burke, Jennifer Laslie, Julie L. Kramer, Krysta Fox, Lily Winter, Sapphire Winters, Kyrii Rayne, Dania Voss, Missy De Graff, Cassidy K. O’Connor, Candace Sams, Verika Sloane, and Elena Forest


Genre: Paranormal Romance / Urban Fantasy Anthology

Secrets, Lies, Betrayals.

Add a dash of danger and a pinch of sin,

Heart-pounding stories are waiting within…

What happens when fate steals their happily-ever-after? When the one person they were supposed to spend their life with rejects them? Can these shifters, vampires, demons, and fae find love again from the ashes of rejection?

Or will they be tied to the mates who rejected them, forced to find a way back to them or suffer for an eternity?  

Lose yourself in the magic of this limited edition paranormal romance and urban fantasy collection featuring 20+ rejected mate stories full of heartache, angst, second chances, frenemies, and forbidden love.

Excerpt from Treaty Born by Krysta Fox, participating author for Rejected Mates

AYSHA

The wind howled around the little car, battering it with icy shards of rain. A gust pushed it toward the right, and I fought to keep it on the winding road.

“Just get to the trees,” I muttered to myself, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Just get into the trees and you’ll be fine.”

The metal groaned as another blast hit us, and I bit my lip. Glancing up at the mirror, I checked the back seat for any disturbance. Everything was quiet. The car lurched to the right again and I forced my gaze forward, wrenching the vehicle back onto the road. Relief hit me as we dropped off the edge of the pavement, onto the gravel that marked the boundary I’d been searching for. Seconds later, the dark shapes of trees loomed up on either side of the narrow road. Rain still fell, but the sound of the storm faded instantly and I felt my muscles release. Safety was close now.

The small car chugged along. It wasn’t fast, but it doggedly handled every dip and twist in the road as we climbed toward our destination. I could feel the sting of tears in the back of my eyes, a lump forming in my throat, but I refused to give in to them. Until I had found the Safe House, I wasn’t going to give in to the emotions swirling through me.

After two switchbacks and a sharp turn to keep the wheels on the road, the cabin appeared before me, the promise of safety burning from the candle in the front window. A sound strangely like a sob escaped me at the sight. I coasted to a stop and took a moment to collect myself, pulling my hood up before daring to open my door. I shivered as the rain hit, stinging my exposed hands with the chill, but pulled open the back door, lifting out the blanket draped shape before running to the porch.

Excerpt from Graveyard Shift, The Grave Warden Saga, by K.G. Reuss, participating author for Rejected Mates  

Sophira

          “Sophira. Zander is here.”

          “I’d hope so,” I said, looking around the room. I had to keep an eye out for the jerk in case he tried to light my dress on fire or something. Tonight was the choosing. His perfect mate would be picked from hundreds of names by the cauldron. I knew my name was going into the depths, but I wasn’t worried. Our hatred for one another ran far too deep for the fates to lump us together for eternity.

          “There he is. Ugh. He looks amazing.”

          “Where?” I didn’t really care how he looked, but I did want to keep an eye on him in case he really did try to cast on me and send me squealing straight to the beyond in a blaze of glory.

          I didn’t have to wait long to find him.

          “Well, if it isn’t Sucky Von Morris.” His voice rang out behind me, using the nickname he’d given me when we were kids. I let out a groan, drawing in a deep breath and counting to three before I turned around to greet him.

          “Zander,” I said tightly, taking in his slicked back black hair and dark suit that had obviously been tailored to hug every muscle he’d sprouted over the years we’d know one another.

          “Wow, Sophira?” His green eyes widened as they raked over me. A blush, something very unlike him, clouded his handsome features before he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. Inside, I smiled smugly. I’d never made Zander blush before. Mom and her friends had done a great job on my attire tonight.

          “How are you doing, Zander?” Hazel chuckled as Zander ran his fingers through his black hair.

          “Uh, good.” Zander glanced at me quickly. “I, uh, almost didn’t recognize your face there for a second.”

          “Well, I’d never forget your face,” I shot back. A grin spread over his features, reaching his sparkling green eyes. He visibly relaxed.

Buy Links:  

Pre-order today for only 99 cents, then request your free gifts at: https://tinyurl.com/RejectedMatesGifts

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Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/rejected-mates-a-paranormal-romance-and-urban/id1587915904

NEW RELEASE: Blue Rose by Lena Austin #DarkFantasy #PNR @Lena_Austin

Princess Zara knows one of royal blood is sometimes forced into political alliances, but what’s wrong with wanting a real Prince Charming? Few princes would want a wife who could best them with any weapon, still, there are more rivals for her hand — and her father’s kingdom — than she expects, but only two catch her eye. Prince Bram seems perfect, but he’s more interested in Prince Kennit than Zara. And the nearsighted Kennit isn’t perfect enough — her father will never approve the marriage.

Prince Kennit knows there’s only one woman for him, but few princesses would find a shape shifting dragon to their liking. When Zara is poisoned, Kennit’s the first to volunteer for the expedition to save the princess, though the quest will lead them deep within the ninth circle of Hell. Zara refuses to be left behind, and Bram’s along for the ride.

Things have changed a little — okay, a lot — since the days of Dante’s Inferno. This time the tourists are Zara, the poisoned princess, and her two suitors. Together they must find a single blue rose in the deepest part of Hell before the next full moon, or Zara will run out of time — and choices.

Available Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 13th at your favorite retailer

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Lena Austin

Zara shrieked in rage and aimed the next statue from the mantel at her father’s head. The heft of the clay dog might open up his thick skull. “I am not a fucking piece of merchandise!”

“Hang it all, Zara! I don’t like this any more than you do, but I would appreciate the courtesy of being treated like the king now and then!” King Ragnar dodged another object and winced as it shattered behind him. “Damn it! That was your mother’s favorite.”

“She’s been dead for twenty-five years. I don’t think she’ll miss it.” Zara cast about for something else to use as a weapon, but the more useful items were behind her father’s desk, putting her in reach of his burly arms. “Did you already send a herald to announce, ‘One kingdom for sale! Marry the princess and rule Powell Mountains’?”

Ragnar snorted, but kept a wary eye on her. “Thank goodness I had the sense to rule all persons must be disarmed in my presence, or you’d be hacking at me with your sword.” He drew himself up. “As a matter of fact, I did indeed issue invitations to the local princes. They should arrive in time for tonight’s feast.”

Zara swallowed another shriek and ground her teeth instead. “You mean to sell me and the kingdom into marriage quickly, don’t you?”

Ragnar’s fingers opened and closed convulsively, and Zara guessed he’d love to have them around her throat. “At least I’m giving you a choice of princes, you ungrateful wretch. I could have simply chosen one and delivered you to him trussed up like a goose.”

“I’d much rather you changed the law that demands this kingdom be ruled by a wedded pair. Just because you got lucky and found Mother while you were children doesn’t make the law right.” Zara tossed her thick black braid over her shoulder and slammed out of the door, not waiting for a dismissal. The cold fury on her face magically cleared a path through the corridors before her.

She’d known something was wrong when the guardsmen who usually gave her a sword workout were conspicuously absent from the fields. Not even the sergeant looked her in the eye when he informed her they were all out on field maneuvers for the week. She sailed through the doors leading to the back of the castle and noted the guardsmen had miraculously reappeared from their maneuvers.

Now she knew the why of the lie, and her anger soared even higher to realize her father had ordered all her “masculine” activities curtailed. Few princes would find a wife charming when she could best them with any weapon. Fewer still would find her preference for masculine clothes alluring.

Zara turned from the now forbidden joys of beer by the smith’s fire, a joint of beef in the barracks, and the clash of metals on the practice field. She knew better than to approach her old friends and cause them to lie to her further. Her eyes stung, not with pain, but more anger than she’d felt in many a year. Her shoulders slumped as she headed for the cliffs to walk as she often did when troubled. The men would read her posture and know that while she didn’t like it, she’d accepted it wasn’t their fault.

The wind and sky played a tempestuous love affair, whipping her comfortable, woven shirt until it plastered against her body, revealing too many feminine curves even in leather pants and vest. She hated her soft skin, though she’d honed fine muscles beneath the easily bruised flesh, of which there always seemed to be too much. “Can I help it if I’m as tall as a man, and nearly as broad? Certainly not. I refuse to be one of the court wenches who daintily picks at her food and then throws up what little she does eat for fear of not appearing feminine and delicate. Pahh!”

She stepped around a particularly large boulder and beheld a sight so strange it stopped her angry ruminations.

A lanky man stood at the very edge of the cliff, his black cloak seeming to hang in the air as if riding the winds, and his shoulder-length black hair escaped its silver thong to join the cloak in flight. Nothing could be seen of the man’s face, for his back was to Zara, but the whole figure was one of tranquility.

That peace alone intrigued her, for so few could bear the fearful heights, and fewer still dared walk the edge on a day when the winds could yank a full-grown man over the precipice. Either this one was very brave or very crazed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

NEW RELEASE: Kelpie’s Claiming (Fairview Chronicles) by Alexa Piper #DarkFantasy #PNR @prowlingpiper

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Gay, Murder Mystery, Shapeshifters, Suspense, Action Adventure

Rob’s current goal in life? Do not eat people. That’s easier said than done when you’re a kelpie in the service industry. While Rob pursues his goals from behind the bar, a stranger walks in, and Rob catches the man’s scent. Yet, patrons are not for eating, and it should have ended there… except when Rob smells that delicious scent again, the beautiful stranger needs help.

Bertrand wants to fit in, but because he’s part Fae, part Elf, and grew up human, he’s not really at home in either human or supernatural society. Still, he likes being a reporter and following a story all the way to its conclusion. The story he’s pursuing when he walks into Rob’s bar one night is one of supernaturals going missing, and Bertrand seems to be the only one who cares.

Meeting Bertrand might just shift Rob’s life goals. Coming face-to-face with a kelpie stallion might be enough to help Bertrand see where he fits in perfectly. Except Bertrand doesn’t really know what to make of Rob, and also, Bertrand’s missing persons story is bigger than even he envisioned. It’s turning into a case of abduction and trafficking he needs to unravel before he can even think about Rob’s advances. The story will lead Bertrand to some dark places before the year is out.

Available NOW at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 13th at your favorite retailer

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2022 Alexa Piper

The daytime drinkers with the incipient beer bellies were getting louder. Rob was just about to get back to gutting his lime in order to suppress thoughts of gutting those three when the door opened once more.

The icy air tickled Rob’s nose with the smell of the season turning, of snowdrops shaking off the weight of frozen water to sing of longer days and sun returning to the world.

But the man walking into the Ragdoll wasn’t a sprite. He was — glamoured.

Rob, who knew how to use a glamour even if he turned into a carnivorous horse who could break hearts without prettying himself up with magic, could tell. The glamour wasn’t exceedingly strong on this man.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rob saw the mage look up briefly, noticing the same thing, but then dismissing it. She’d have been able to see through it easily enough, and since she didn’t react further, Rob could be sure the man who smelled of snowdrops didn’t have any openly nefarious intentions.

But the man… Rob’s mouth was watering, and he watched as the new patron pulled his fur-trimmed hood back from his golden locks and pried his snug gloves off his long fingers. He had to be part Fae. Rob was pretty sure just from his looks, but with a glamour that hid what he was, Rob couldn’t tell precisely.

The man looked shifty, though. Rob had misspent his youth lingering in pools, ponds, and really any body of water that didn’t have a kappa infestation. He’d done it in order to lure humans and whoever wanted to be lured, so he knew what shifty looked like quite intimately.

The glamoured patron wasn’t the let’s-drown-them-and-eat-their liver type of person, not that Rob would ever admit to anyone that he himself had ever been that person. The man wore glasses. They misted up in the warmth of the Ragdoll, and he had to pull them off, revealing a set of hazel eyes that brimmed with intelligence. Without the glasses, he wasn’t too blind to find one of the quiet corner tables, where he deposited his large frame in a chair that looked flimsy under him.

Because yes, the man looked like the kind of person Western directors with a bottomless budget would cast for the role of a Greek hero or an intergalactic hero. Rob liked a man who could hold his own in a fight, and he shivered at the thought of this one’s thighs pressing into Rob’s sides when he was in his horse form. He shivered at the thought of this man riding him.

Kyle grabbed a menu and made his way to the man while Rob watched.

The new patron was interested in the soon-to-be beer-bellied. He glanced past Kyle and seemed too distracted to properly examine the menu, but Kyle nodded and scribbled something on his notepad.

“Hey, boss.” Carla, Rob’s strawberry blonde half-succubus bartender, had snuck up on him and was clapping him on the shoulder.

“Please don’t startle me,” he told her. “And also, hello. You are early.”

“Well, I figured you might need the extra pair of hands,” she said and gave his still unharmed lime a pointed look.

“I was getting to that,” he told her, frowning.

Carla sighed. “Can I say something?”

“Can I stop you?”

She crossed her arms in front of her beautiful succubus chest. “What do you think?”

“Well, let’s have it.”

“You, boss, need to get laid. It might be, I don’t know, a shifter thing. I swear it’s like you guys molt or something.”

Rob sliced the lime in half neatly and let it bleed its acidic last on his cutting board. “Carla, dear. I turn into a horse. I do not molt.”

She raised her finger to forestall a lecture. “Changes nothing. You need to bang someone.” She tapped her nose with a finger, the nail painted fire-engine red. “I can tell.”

“I’m stressed because I’m tending bar when I shouldn’t be tending bar,” Rob said.

She waved that off. “Pfft. You’re happy for Ilya, admit it. Maybe ask that witch if he has a brother?” she asked and wiggled her eyebrows.

“He’s the sole Fey heir, and you know that as well as I do,” Rob said. “Also, I do not need to urgently bang a witch.” Rob kept his voice down, because he was not easily shaken, certainly not by the suggestion that he was in need of sex. Rob was accomplished. He had the occasional one-night stand, because (just like Ilya) he looked good behind the bar, almost as good as he did as a horse with his hooves in a lake, his mane dangling in the water, and the moon hitting his shiny coat just so.

Yes, if Rob wanted to find a warm body to put his cock in, he could do just that, but the succubus was overreacting. It was a thing with ‘cubi, assuming that one needed to have sex all the time or else one’s health — mental or otherwise — was in danger.

“Did you just daydream about fucking Aaron?” Carla asked.

Rob made quick work of the lime. “I did not, and I reject the idea.” Although the witch was a big strong man under that coat he wore all the time. But no. Going there was no good — even if from the looks of it, Aaron had very nice shoulders.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter or TikTok, and subscribe to her newsletter!

BOOK BLITZ: Kiss of Darkness by Taylor Aston White #ParanormalRomance @tayastonwhite @XpressoTours

Kiss of Darkness
Taylor Aston White
(Curse of the Guardians, #1)
Publication date: May 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

He despises her… almost as much as his beast craves her.

Kyra’s seen and survived the worst things imaginable, all because of the magic she was born with. Trapped by her secret, she has no choice but to serve Councilman Gallagher or risk everything she has tried so hard to build. Because despite black magic being banned, her very survival depends on it.

When she’s commanded to summon a Daemon, a Breed notorious for their corruption and brutality, she’s torn between keeping her secret and doing the right thing.

Xander’s hate for black witches was notorious, but nothing frustrated him more than the one witch that brings trouble with a capital T. With dark amber eyes, and a controlled strength that fascinated his beast – the monster he’s cursed to share a soul – Xander will do anything to push her away.

So when he’s forced into protecting her, he must put aside his prejudice and ignore his growing desire that’s an insult to his past.

Because he’s had an entire childhood to remember why you can’t trust black witches.

And he definitely can’t trust Kyra Farzan.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

“Little girls shouldn’t be here.” A hand struck out, carefully circling her wrist with enough pressure to stop her, but not enough to hurt.

Kyra paused, the coin at the edge of the slot. She looked up, and Xander removed his sunglasses.

“That’s a rude comment,” she said, trying to tug from his grasp.

His mouth twisted, pale eyes narrowed as he released her wrist, only to grip her jaw. He angled her face against the light, her lip stinging when she frowned.

“What are you doing here, Kyra?” His white silver hair, just long enough to cover his unusually dark brows moved across his forehead, partially concealing his expression.

“Minding my own business!” she snapped, but the steel behind her reply lessened when she met his eyes, and flinched. “Don’t touch me.” The words came out quiet, desperate. His eyes had been blue, she was sure of it, yet she could see her own reflection in his irises made from a liquid silver.

His fingers opened, and she stumbled back, breathing heavily. She needed to get out of there before she suffered a full panic attack. Xander was just too much, his gaze too direct as she tried to look anywhere but him.

“Black witch,” he grunted, as if she were tainted.

Which she wasn’t, but she couldn’t explain why he was wrong. He wouldn’t care either way, his opinion on her already set in stone, and had been since they first met. Black witches were seen as evil because of their ability to gain power from death, and while many embraced that sordid side of magic it didn’t mean they were all evil. It did, however, make them illegal.

Ignoring him, or at least trying to as he seemed to press himself closer, always pushing her boundaries, she inserted the Ravyn into the slot, the portal opening with a flash of light. He said nothing as she stepped through, the package hugged tight to her chest, and as soon as the portal closed behind her she released a sigh of relief.

Author Bio:

Taylor Aston White loves to explore mythology and European faerie tales to create her own, modern magic world. She collects crystals, house plants and dark lipstick, and has two young children who like to ‘help’ with her writing by slamming their hands across the keyboard.

After working several uncreative jobs and one super creative one, she decided to become a full-time author and now spends the majority of her time between her children and writing the weird and wonderful stories that pop into her head.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

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Book Blitz: Beast Charming by Grace Goodwin #PNR #SciFiRomance @luvgracegoodwin

Beast Charming
Grace Goodwin
(Interstellar Brides Program: The Beasts, #5)
Publication date: April 26th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Science Fiction

One dance with this ‘prince’ could cost her a job.

Her freedom.

Her life.

Warlord Tane of Atlan is a warrior, not a prince.

So why is he wearing these ridiculous white pants and gold-trimmed jacket?

And gods help him, why are there hundreds of females in glittering gowns, circling like vultures, expecting him to dance?

The human producers of the Bachelor Beast television show thought this would be a good idea; dress up an unmated Warlord like a fairytale prince, invite hundreds of eligible human women to a ‘Cinderella Ball’, turn on their cameras, and record everything.

And then he sees her. His mate. The only female who can tame his beast.

But…

This princess wasn’t supposed to be at the ball. A borrowed ballgown. A stolen invitation. A friend in trouble. Everything is going according to plan…until she can no longer resist temptation.

Surely one dance won’t hurt?

Even a dance with a beast.

Don’t miss this wild and twisted Cinderella story.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

Warlord Tane, Miami Event Center, ‘The Bachelor Ball’

“I do not know how much longer I can endure.” I whispered the confession to Bahre where we stood in front of the raised dais. The fucker’s response was to laugh at me.

I discreetly elbowed him in his ribs, then turned to face the forty-seventh female being introduced to me.

“Warlord Tane, may I present…” Chet Bosworth, with his overly large teeth and puffed hair paused to look at the card he held in his hand. “Celine Legrand from Canada.”

“A pleasure,” I repeated, for the forty-seventh time. Leaning over, as I’d been instructed by Bahre’s beautiful mate, Quinn, I dutifully took the female’s small hand in mine and bowed at the waist. I believed the act was a waste of time. I knew, even before she had approached, that she was not mine. My beast knew as well. I had walked the room earlier, passed by the females as the lined up wearing their fine gowns, eager to enter and meet the beasts.

None of the female’s present was my mate. I already knew this truth and yet, I had to endure several more hours of Chet Bosworth and his pontificating nonsense.

My beast and I were losing patience.

As if on cue, Chet’s conspiratorial whisper carried to both me and the young Celine. “Hold your breath, people, as the alien, Warlord Tane, meets the next gorgeous woman in attendance. Celine Legrand traveled all the way from Gatineau, Quebec, Canada, more than sixteen hundred miles, for a chance to win this Atlan beast’s battle weary heart.”

The young woman blushed at Chet’s words. I released her with a gentle shake of my head. I did not need to tell these females they were not mine.

If this woman were mine, she would already be in my arms. More like, over my shoulder so I could carry her somewhere private and pleasure her properly.

Without a live television audience.

The young lady took a step back and then hurried away.

“Another strike out!” Chet smiled directly into the camera and winked at the lens. “That’s forty-seven in a row, my friends. Is true love in the air tonight? Will one of these women be the answer to a broken-hearted beast’s most fervent wish? Or will this lonely beast, this wounded veteran, who has already been rejected by his own people, be doomed to face the executioner?”

Author Bio:

Grace Goodwin is a USA Today and international bestselling author of Sci-Fi and Paranormal romance with nearly one million books sold. Grace’s titles are available worldwide in multiple languages in ebook, print and audio formats. Two best friends, one left-brained, the other right-brained, make up the award-winning writing duo that is Grace Goodwin. They are both mothers, escape room enthusiasts, avid readers and intrepid defenders of their preferred beverages. (There may or may not be an ongoing tea vs. coffee war occurring during their daily communications.) Grace loves to hear from readers.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Bookbub / Instagram / Newlsetter

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