(Deadside Reapers #1))
Publication date: March 26th 2020
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Urban Fantasy
Your dead are our business.
Got a loved one who’s passed? Want to ask your dead aunt where she hid that elusive will? Head over to Necro city and look no further than Soul Savers Inc.
One day the world was normal, and the next, it was filled with ghosts. And then the reapers came. Blood-sucking hot dudes with wings and wicked scythes. They took control, and now we have a system.
Now we have Necro city, the hub of all things untethered.
As a soul relocation agent, it’s my job to rehouse the dead until the reapers come to collect, but with so few of those dudes about, the wait isn’t pretty. Thank goodness for decent coffee, frosted donuts, and a pending promotion.
Things are looking good until they’re not.
One bar fight and a dead reaper later, I’m left holding the scythe.
Not just any scythe, but a scythe belonging to one of Lilith’s four favored sons—the most powerful reapers in the world.
For some reason, it’s chosen me.
Now, three very large, very pissed off reapers are on my case.
It looks like that promotion is going to have to wait.
A kickass Urban fantasy with a why choose romance. Vampires, ghosts, angels, and demons. Perfect for readers who enjoy forbidden romance, enemies to lovers, or friends to lovers.
Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.
By Blood and Magic
Jamie A. Waters
(The Dragon Portal #2)
Publication date: March 26th 2020
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
A priceless treasure is hidden within the ocean’s depths…
Sabine barely managed to escape from Akros with her life.
But the ocean isn’t safe for someone whose power stems from the forests.
When their ship is attacked on the high seas and one of Sabine’s companions is taken hostage, only an agreement forged by blood and magic may save her friend’s life.
The pearl of the sea is also the key to the gods’ revenge…
With the dragon portal failing and the gods’ magic threatening to destroy their world, Sabine must choose between following her heart or upholding a sacred oath.
The cost of ending a centuries-old feud may be higher than anyone expected.
All magic demands a sacrifice–even if it’s hers.
Sabine scanned the sea, but she couldn’t see any sign of the missing crew. If the Merfolk were already taking prisoners, they were running out of time. A few more hits like the last one, and the ship would capsize.
“If you have any suggestions, Sabine, now is the time. Otherwise, I agree with Bane. I’ll destroy every last one of these Merfolk for harming those under my protection.”
Without waiting for a response, Malek leaned over the railing toward the lower deck and called out more orders to ready the catapults. Sabine swallowed and tried to bury the sick fear threatening to overwhelm her. Esmelle wouldn’t even have been on this ship if it weren’t for her. The thought of losing one of her closest friends was unfathomable.
Sabine’s hands tightened on the railing as she stared at the angry sea. “They’ll keep Esme and the rest of the hostages alive until they manage to capsize the ship. Those who aren’t enslaved are usually fed to their underwater pets. If they take all of us down below, we’ll lose any negotiating power we might have while still under the sky.”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Bane admitted, caging her with his arms. She leaned back against his heated skin, thankful for the warmth he offered against the chill from the elements. Bane might have difficulties tapping into softer emotions, but he’d made it no secret he admired and respected the spunky witch who was now an unwilling hostage.
“They aren’t just stories,” she said as a daring plan began to form in her mind.
Bane squeezed her midsection and murmured, “You are my priority, Sabine. If we must lose Esme, she will be mourned, but we cannot allow you to fall. We need to get you and this ship out of here.”
Sabine turned and glared up at him. “We won’t be mourning anyone. I will get them back—all of them. And you’re going to help me do it.”
Jamie A. Waters is an award-winning writer of science fiction and fantasy romance. Her first novel was a winner of the Readers’ Favorite Award in Science Fiction/Fantasy Romance and the CIPA EVVY Award in Science Fiction.
Jamie currently resides in Florida with two neurotic dogs who enjoy stealing socks. When she’s not pursuing her passion of writing, she’s usually trying to learn new and interesting random things (like how to pick locks or use the self-cleaning feature of the oven without setting off the fire alarm). In her downtime, she enjoys reading on her Kindle, playing computer games, painting, or acting as a referee between the dragons and fairies currently at war inside her closet.
Publication date: March 24th 2020
Genres: Adult, Contemporary
From New York Times bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin comes a heartfelt story about overcoming great loss and forgiving past sins to find happiness again.
Brooklyn Hewett hasn’t stepped foot in Cape Harbor for fifteen years—not since an accident claimed the love of her life, Austin Woods. Desperate to move forward, Brooklyn has focused on raising her daughter for the past fourteen years. But when the opportunity comes along to renovate, and possibly buy, the old Driftwood Inn, Brooklyn knows it’s time to go home.
But it won’t be easy. For one, Austin’s best friend, Bowie Holmes, still lives in Cape Harbor. Brooklyn hasn’t quite been able to forget him: not since the night they spent together—the same night they both lost Austin. Separated by tragedy and guilt, they’re brought together by the Driftwood project. And as they rebuild the inn, they discover they’re also rebuilding something else.
Brooklyn’s always been desperate to move on, not knowing that she first needs to reconcile past transgressions. She can’t forget, but she can forgive—Austin, Bowie, and herself—on her way toward long-awaited happiness.
Instead of heading straight to the Driftwood Inn, Brooklyn detoured and drove down Third Street. This was the only town she had ever lived in or visited that hadn’t had a Main Street. It was such a random thing she picked up on when she and her parents moved here years ago. She never understood why until she learned that when the town incorporated, the people counted the streets up from the harbor, numbering instead of naming, with First Street being the closest to the water.
Curiosity filled her. For years she had not asked questions about her favorite spots, mostly to avoid the feeling of being homesick, but also so she could forget. The less she knew, the better. The less she longed to return, the easier it would be to create a new life. That was what she needed to do: start over, put the past behind her, and move on.
At the red light, she closed her eyes. It only took her seconds to tell Carly she would come back, even though, deep down, it wasn’t what she wanted to do. Yet, she owed the woman and could never tell her no. Brooklyn was content with the life she was living. She was one of the most sought-after home renovators, with homeowners paying her top dollar to come to them, to transform their visions into their dream homes. Her job afforded her many luxuries, except roots. She didn’t rent a home, let alone own one. Each town became her stomping ground, until the next job came in. She traveled thousands of miles, back and forth across the country, leaving her mark everywhere she went.
Heidi McLaughlin is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of The Beaumont Series, The Boys of Summer, and The Archers.
Originally, from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband, two daughters, and their three dogs.
In 2012, Heidi turned her passion for reading into a full-fledged literary career, writing over twenty novels, including the acclaimed Forever My Girl.
When writing isn’t occupying her time, you can find her sitting courtside at either of her daughters’ basketball games.
Heidi’s first novel, Forever My Girl, has been adapted into a motion picture with LD Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Rothe, and opened in theaters on January 19, 2018, and is now available on DVD & Digital.
Rise of the Mage
(Resurrecting Magic, #1)
Publication date: March 24th 2020
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal
College is hard—classes, homework, bullies. But, being the daughter of renowned professors, I grew up at Alderidge University and was on track to have an easy start to my freshman year. Until I met Nathaniel Nightingale.
Aloof and mysterious, Nathaniel’s hands were covered in scars that told me he had a violent history. He started asking questions about my own, and then dark secrets in our family lines collided after a strange discovery in the library. We found words with power, and they unleashed abilities in the both of us that had been lost to the world.
Turns out, the witch trials weren’t entirely the product of mass hysteria. As far as we can tell, almost every mage was wiped out – killed for their knowledge and their capabilities. And now I have to wonder if my mother’s disappearance is related.
This is dangerous. It’s feels impossible. We have the weight of an entire lost race resting on our shoulders.
But we’ve got this. Together, we’ll bring it all back. Together, we’ll resurrect magic.
“Did you know that while the Salem witch trials were the last and only here in America, that there is still official litigation against witchcraft in parts of the Middle East?” With those long fingers of his, Nathaniel opened the book and flipped a few pages. He opened to a section and handed me the book, pointing to a particular passage. My eyes scanned it, searching for what he wanted me to see.
It was a list of the names of the men and women who were killed at the Salem Witch trials. And there, almost to the bottom, was the name of Mare McGregor.
My blood chilled, seeing her name there, listed among the accused and executed. I knew her name. I knew her story, as much of it as had been recorded by her son, my great-something-grandfather, Collin. But it was always so stark, the reality that she’d been hung. Killed.
“The entire world has a history of witch hunts,” Nathaniel said, turning to the bookshelf again. He grabbed another book, opening it to a section. “Egypt and Babylonia.”
He took another book, opening it and laying it on his desk. “Across the Holy Roman Empire.”
My heart rate picked up. Sweat broke out on my palms.
Still, Nathaniel grabbed another book and another. “Russia, India, and even Africa to this day.”
I watched Nathaniel, who stood with his back to me. His shoulders were tight. His head was bent low. His words were growing lower with each one spoken.
Gingerly, almost reverently, he reached for another book. The red binding was worn, and there were no words left. Gently, he grabbed it, and he held it to his chest, his arms carefully wrapped around it.
“It is estimated at around 60,000 people were killed for being witches over the course of three hundred years, in western Europe and central Europe alone. Tens of thousands more in Asia, countless more in Africa. Miraculously, only nineteen here in America.”
There was a deep sound rushing in my ears and it took me a moment to realize it was the sound of my own blood. There was a heavy feeling of anticipation and uncertainty in my gut.
Nathaniel turned back toward me, and in his eyes, I saw something big.
“I cannot confirm that I am a direct descendant, but there was a William Nightingale killed during the Lancashire witch trials in England in 1612.” His eyes were fixed on me, but I could tell, he wasn’t seeing me. He had fallen into history, into ancestry. “There are thousands of stories of accusations and trials and deaths.”
“Yes,” I said, wanting to bring us back to a place that wasn’t so dark. I wanted everything to go back to being light. “And they were the result of mass hysteria and superstition. They wanted something to blame for bad harvests and hard financial times. A lot of innocent people died.”
Nathaniel’s focus returned to me. Three seconds passed, and finally he gave a little nod, but it didn’t seem like a complete act of agreement.
He stepped forward, and gingerly, he laid the book in his arms on the desk. I recognized it then as the one from the library, the first day we had met.
“You said you cannot read Gaelic,” he said in a low voice. He opened the book and looked down at it, gazing at the words with wonder. “But maybe you should try again.”
“Nathaniel, I-” I began to protest. But he looked up at me and begged me with his eyes.
So, I crossed to the desk to stand beside him. I looked down at the words, remembering the silly experience with it before, now weeks ago. I could recognize letters, as I’d concluded before, some of them were of Latin origin. But I couldn’t read any of it.
“I haven’t learned Gaelic in the last few weeks, Nathaniel,” I said, looking over at him. He looked at my face intently, as if he were waiting for something spectacular to happen. “I still can’t read it.”
Gently, he reached for my hand, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I decided I trusted him enough to humor him.
He brought my hand forward, and gently, he set my fingertips down on the edge of the pages.
It was as if I’d blinked, and it turned into a different book.
One moment it was in unreadable Gaelic. The next, it was in perfect English.
I blinked, leaning in closer to the book.
A simple matter of will and asking, levitation is one of the simplest forms of magic.
My eyes read the line without a second of hesitation or translation.
I ripped my hand back from the book and took half a step back.
Instantly, the book was once more in a language I could not read.
The room was utterly silent. So quiet it pushed in on my ears and the only sound was my own heartbeat.
I felt Nathaniel’s eyes on me. I felt meaning filling the air. I felt anticipation. But also, momentous confusion.
Cautiously, I reached my hand forward again. Filled with fear and wonder, I touched the edge of the pages.
In levitation, most users have certain affinities, whether they be metal, earth, wood, life forms, etc.
Because it was the scientific method of proving a hypothesis, I removed my hand one last time and the words became unreadable.
I touched the pages, and my eyes relaxed as the words became readable.
“You can read it, too.”
I looked up at Nathaniel and startled when he stood there with his right hand held up, his fingers generally pointed at the ceiling. And floating around his fingertips there were three paper airplanes, swirling, dipping and rising through the air. And that air around his hand had this…shimmer. Almost as if glitter floated in the air. But I couldn’t quite focus on it. And the air seemed more…golden.
“What kind of trick is this, Nathaniel?” I asked, my words hoarse and quiet.
I’d never seen this look in his eyes. They were filled with…excitement. And hope. He shook his head. “It’s not a trick, Margot,” he said. He waved his fingers, and the airplanes set off toward the opposite end of the solarium. Gently, they floated toward his bed, flying in a circle over it. They followed each other in a line, doing a flip in the air and then flying over to the couch, where they dipped down low, soaring beneath it, before they aimed back at Nathaniel. There, they swirled around his fingers once again before they gently floated down to the table and landed on the book. “It’s in my blood. And I believe it’s in yours, too.”
Keary Taylor is the USA TODAY bestselling author of over twenty novels. She grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she started creating imaginary worlds and daring characters who always fell in love. She now splits her time between a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest and Utah, with her husband and their two children. She continues to have an overactive imagination that frequently keeps her up at night.
Screwed and Satisfied
(Moon Ranch #2)
Publication date: March 23rd 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
Second chance at romance? Like hell, and definitely not with the girl next door.
Dane Moon is the troublemaker of the family, and his latest screw-up was marrying a Vegas stripper. Or was it that she married the male dancer? Either way, that chapter of his life’s over, along with the marriage. He’s back in Colorado on the family homestead, attempting to pick up the broken pieces of his past, present and future.
When vet assistant Brennah Peterson finds a drunk guy passed out in her hay bale, she isn’t surprised it’s Dane Moon. The panty-melting bad boy next door always had a reputation for being the life of the party. Any torch Brennah used to carry for the rough and tumble cowboy has been long extinguished—at least until he throws that crooked smile her way again.
Wanting Brennah and wanting to be a better man go together like boots and hats, and maybe it’s time Dane cleans up his act. But Brennah’s got every reason to stay away from him, and he doesn’t want another ex-wife anyhow. When things heat up, it’s hard for Brennah to walk away. But a hot roll in the hay with Dane won’t be enough, and she won’t accept less than all or nothing.
Brennah stared down at the big, muscled, tattooed cowboy passed out in her barn. His black hair and the blacker five o’clock shadow coating his jaw gave him a dangerous air.
Speaking of air, she could use some fresher variety. Manure was a treat compared to this guy, who smelled like he’d soaked himself in alcohol and hadn’t bathed since the time of pirates.
Setting a hand on one hip, she contemplated calling the Stokes sheriff to come get him. She didn’t have time to spend on a drunkard—she had animals to tend to before her real day of work started at her veterinary practice. Without looking, she knew her schedule was jam-packed all morning. She’d eat lunch in her vehicle on the way to some ranch calls to see to livestock and then return late in the day to her clinic to treat more dogs, cats, iguanas, and whatever ailing animal came through her door.
Looking at the man curled on his side, she couldn’t help but think she recognized him. His angled jaw and the breadth of his shoulders seemed mighty familiar.
Sometime in his sleep, his Stetson had toppled off and lay a few feet away. The deep, heavy sleep spoke of one hell of a hangover to come.
Feeling a little on the evil side today, she clapped her hands loudly. “Hey! Get up! Hello!”
He moaned and rolled onto his back, giving her a good view of his big, hard body sprawled on her barn floor. The horses were restless in their stalls, eager for their breakfasts, and in the big corner pen, several llamas pawed the floor to show they wanted out to roam the fields too.
Brennah nudged the cowboy’s foot with her own boot. “Hey! You’re trespassing! Wake up!” No matter how loud she yelled, she didn’t get even a flicker of an eyelid in response.
Storming outside, she looked around for a bucket. She located one and filled it with water—cold mountain water from the spring-fed well—and carried the bucket back in. One heave of the bucket and water hit the guy square in the face and chest.
“What? Wha—” He shook his head, but didn’t get up. In fact, he went back to snoring, mouth open.
Brennah stared at him in shock. His blood must be 100-proof if that didn’t do the trick.
“All right. You asked for it.” Her last resort lay in the midsized tractor she used to haul hay bales to her animals. Quickly, she walked outside and climbed into the tractor seat. She started the engine and backed to the open double barn doors.
A glance over her shoulder revealed that the guy hadn’t stirred even at the sound of the loud engine. She set the brake and then leaped to the ground again. After locating a rope, she hitched it to the back. Then she looped the other end around the man’s ankles. To do this, she had to move each of his spread legs, which weighed as much as tree trunks.
She’d seen drunk people sleep this heavily before, and the behavior always scared her. But her annoyance outweighed any butterflies in her stomach that the guy would wake and come up swinging.
Once she had the rope around his booted feet, she stood back to look at him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
But he was big and heavy, and she had no choice but to drag him out of her barn.
With a shake of her head, she returned to the tractor. Another backward glance and she saw he hadn’t budged.
She put the tractor in gear and rolled forward. The guy bumped along the wooden floorboards. As his body crossed the threshold, she swore she heard a groan from him. Looking back again, she watched his head bump over the lip of the doors and onto the patchy grass outside.
She towed him across the bumpy earth to the water trough and cut the engine. Jeez, this guy was really out for the count, wasn’t he?
When she climbed down, she spotted a small leather object along the trail that had been cut into the dirt by his heavy body. His wallet—and presumably he carried an ID. Though the feeling she recognized him burned strong, she didn’t know the guy’s identity.
She gave him a wide berth in case he woke suddenly and made a grab for her. Then she’d have no choice but to brain him with a shovel.
She walked over to pick up the wallet that had fallen out of his pocket. Propriety told her not to open the bifold and look, but she had to identify the guy, right? She flipped it open and stared at the Colorado driver’s license—expired with a picture of a younger man.
She groaned. No wonder she recognized him—Dane Moon.
Her mind waged a war with her younger alter-ego. In high school, she would have done just about anything to have Dane throw one of his gorgeous crooked smiles her direction, and he never gave her the time of day.
He could only be described as rough around the edges, with a look about him every girl in Stokes High wanted a piece of. Heck, Brennah had her fair share of fantasies involving Dane Moon.
Em Petrova was raised by hippies in the wilds of Pennsylvania but told her parents at the age of four she wanted to be a gypsy when she grew up. She has a soft spot for babies, puppies and 90s Grunge music and believes in Bigfoot and aliens. She started writing at the age of twelve and prides herself on making her characters larger than life and her sex scenes hotter than hot.
She burst into the world of publishing in 2010 after having five beautiful bambinos and figuring they were old enough to get their own snacks while she pounds away at the keys . In her not-so-spare time, she is fur-mommy to a Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff and works as editor to other authors.
You can find Em Petrova at http://empetrova.com
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