This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author is awarding a randomly drawn winner a $15 Amazon/BN gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
In the midst of pain, Shari Ramming saw an opportunity to learn and create The Monday Book to help others find themselves in their brokenness. With personal evaluations, she guides you to wholeness. Shari lays out steps to finding the treasure in the trauma of life: Acknowledge, Honor, Connect, Practice, and finally, Open to receive the gift of the lesson. Her simple straight-forward advice for fixing whatever feels broken is “begin and continue.” It seems hard in practice, but in showing up for yourself, you’ll find small ways to daily love yourself and become the cure for your own brokenness. Her message puts your problems outside so you can interact with them in a productive way. By seeing everything and everyone as a reflection of yourself, you’ll become more compassionate toward yourself and everyone else. Open yourself up to the true and best you.
Read an Excerpt:
Imagine this. A woman seemingly without doubts about her life. A wholesome and satisfying life filled with family, travel, friendships, children, and social activities. Her focus is on accomplishments, security, and home life. A life that is fast and full. Caught up in the way life seems to zoom when it is bursting with an abundance of three children, a few businesses, multiple homes, a crowded travel and social schedule, and the usual day-to-day duties.
I believed putting my family first was important, that coming in second (or third) for myself worked out okay. With that belief I lost myself and my own power. My passion and my uniqueness.
Life showed me where I was powerless, and also where my power was. My life, until that point of reckoning and painful loss, was ostensibly satisfying. What had guided me was being challenged.
What I had used previously needed some serious updating. I was being tested and I was being shown my darkness. I was meant to understand that I needed to let go of previous held beliefs that kept me going but were not evolved enough for where my life’s journey was taking me. All the change, death, disease, and dishonor was a fierce way of being shown a new path.
About the Author:
Shari Ramming writes on a broad range of subjects. She feels there is a great intelligence that is not of the mind. Loving her three grown children fiercely she uses verve and wanderlust to make her home in Austin, Texas. She is still learning.
YA Action Adventure Fantasy | Science Fiction | LitRPG
Publisher: Fire & Ice Young Adult Books
Date Published: August 27, 2019
Gwen Nielson is a gamer and she’s damn proud of it. Her mother may be a former beauty queen and her kid sister may participate in every pageant the state of Colorado has to offer, but Gwen is content to stay at home and play on her Xbox. To her, life isn’t about fashion and make-up; it’s about making a difference and keeping a low profile. And while most of the girls at her high school hang out at the local country club vying for the popular boys’ attention, Gwen is cool with having a boyfriend she’s never met. Pete is a fellow online gamer who lives in California. He’s funny and sweet, and his father owns a gaming company, which is an added bonus because Gwen gets to test out new games before they’re released to the public.
When Pete mails a new game for her to beta test, Gwen patiently awaits its arrival, but the package is never delivered. To make matters worse, when she calls to let Pete know, she discovers that he’s at the hospital after succumbing to a mysterious illness. Hours later, an ambulance arrives next door because her neighbor’s youngest son, Ben, suddenly becomes ill too. His parents and doctors aren’t sure why he has slipped into a coma, but when Gwen finds her opened package in Ben’s bedroom, she begins to suspect that the game is responsible for both of the boys’ eerily similar conditions.
Even to Gwen, the idea of a game making people sick sounds absurd, so she decides to test her theory before going to her parents. Unfortunately, her neighbor’s older brother, Ryan, insists on checking out the game with her. That’s when they discover that the disc isn’t a game at all—it’s actually a portal to a high-tech government simulator named Eve 2.0 who’s programmed to trap players until they can complete all of the timed objectives.
With her top-notched gaming skills, Gwen is a formidable opponent, but she quickly begins to realize that playing a game versus living it is a lot harder than she ever imagined. And as the objectives become more difficult and the four kids are forced to work as a team, Gwen concedes that she may not be as good as she needs to be, which just might end up costing her not only her own life, but Pete, Ryan, and Ben’s too.
About the Author
Winter lives in the moment and loves nothing more than being surrounded by her family, her fur-babies, and a ton of great reads! When she doesn’t have her nose stuck in a book, she’s usually thinking up far away, fantastical worlds or she’s cooking up a storm in the kitchen!
Because of her love for all things literary, Winter pursued a Master of Arts degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. Professionally, she is a manuscript editor and, in her spare time, she enjoys hosting author spotlights, posting book reviews, and teaching creative writing workshops.
In her private time, she is an avid reader of science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal romances, and one day she hopes to inspire young readers in the same way her favorite authors continue to inspire her today.
New York Times best-selling paranormal romance author Felicity Heaton is here today for the book tour of her new paranormal romance release, Seduced by a Demon King, the latest release in her popular Eternal Mates world.
There are now seventeen books in this series, but don’t worry, you can dive right on in with Seduced by a Demon King, or start at the very beginning with Kissed by a Dark Prince, which is just 99c at all retailers right now. Binge-read to your heart’s content!
If you love big worlds packed with detail and every paranormal species imaginable, together with hot alpha heroes and strong heroines bringing them to their knees, then this series is definitely for you. Plus, each book has a happily forever after and there are no cliff-hangers, because there’s nothing worse than a cliff-hanger!
Seduced by a Demon King (Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series Book 17) by Felicity Heaton
Saddled with a crown he never wanted, King Tegan of the Second Realm of demons is a warrior born for war stuck ruling in a time of peace, bound by the pact that cost his brother his life. Chafed by the ties that have held him shackled to his throne for the last thousand years, Tegan plans an escape from his prison—one stolen night meant to give him a taste of freedom, but one that will lead him to the greatest battle of his life.
A fight to claim the heart of a bewitching fae female who might be his fated mate.
According to many in her clan, and the idiotic incubi who infest the fae town where she lives, Suki puts the suck in succubus. Down on her luck, and in danger of being kicked out of the family she loves, she’s determined to prove her worth by bagging and tagging a powerful male. When she sets eyes on a mysterious, panty-melting demon warrior in a nightclub, things finally seem to be going her way, but his shadowed aura and guardedness warns he won’t be an easy mark.
Seducing him is going to be the fight of her life.
When the battle is done, will the victor have the forever they want, or will this war cost them both everything?
A simple feint. Trick the eye. A stroke of genius.
With a dash of the fates smiling upon him, he might escape this prison tonight.
This castle had been his cage for a thousand years, since the night his brother had been murdered, the throne beneath him a shackle that held him fast, unbreakable except through death.
He ran a steady hand over his right horn, feeling the smoothness and the slight bumps where the enchanted gold had been inlaid into the grooves he had carved himself. Some of the bumps were barely noticeable, a sign of how many times he had performed this act since Edyn had died.
The plan was sound.
But still a trickle of nerves ran in his blood.
Or was that excitement?
It had been so long since he had experienced that emotion that he was unfamiliar with it now. He pondered that as he swigged from his pewter mug, the brew sweet on his tongue. One of the few pleasures he had left in his long and tedious life.
Excitement. Fear. Pain. The high of victory.
Everything he had loved had been stolen from him the night he had been thrust into a role he had never wanted.
Although perhaps he would have lost it all anyway, even if his brother had survived.
He cursed that word.
He cursed Edyn.
He cursed the throne.
He cursed his kingdom.
Tegan mentally took that one back.
As much as he despised the truce with the First Realm of the demons and the elf kingdom, as much as he despised his throne and his advisers who sought to keep him tethered to it, safely holed up in his castle, he couldn’t blame his people for what had happened to him.
Perhaps he was the one who was cursed.
Cursed to lead a dull and peaceful life for the rest of his days.
Tegan leaned to his right, dropped his chin on his upturned palm as he planted his elbow against the arm of his black throne, and huffed.
He had been born for war, not peace.
Yet here he was, presiding over a feast celebrating the anniversary of the truce his brother had formed with the neighbouring demon realm and the elves.
He could practically feel his life draining from him, one grain of sand at a time through an hourglass that was shielded by layers and layers of steel designed to keep it safe from harm.
What sort of demon wanted to be safe?
He craved battle, adventure. A glorious war or two every decade wouldn’t go amiss either. But here he sat, his backside stuck to a throne he wanted no part of, doomed to rule a peaceful kingdom while the other demon kings indulged in lavish wars, were out there on the frontline spilling blood and breaking bones.
He lifted his cup to his lips again and took a deeper draught of the mead.
Gods, he was bored.
It was Edyn’s fault.
His older brother was meant to rule while Tegan did all the fighting as commander of their Royal Legion, not broker a damned peace treaty and then die, leaving the Second Realm in Tegan’s hands.
He growled low in his throat.
A few of the warriors celebrating at the long feast tables that lined the grand hall of the castle paused to look his way, their brew or their females forgotten as they checked on him. Tegan glared at them all, tempted to flash his emerging fangs as his mood took a sharp dark turn, plunging him into the mire of thoughts that had been his own personal hell since the night someone had placed a crown upon his head.
The warriors returned to their drinks, laughter spilling from their lips as they toasted him and cheered, as if that would lift his mood. He drummed his short claws against the layer of stubble on his cheek as he surveyed the room, dark gaze passing over the towering carved black columns that supported the vaulted ceiling high above him.
The candles in the middle of each long black wooden table illuminated the faces of his warriors, playing over their dark hair and horns, flickering over their bare chests as they shoved and laughed, caroused with the females he had brought in for the celebration.
At least someone at the feast was enjoying themselves.
Edyn had always said the people came first.
Something he and his brother had agreed upon. Although Tegan liked to place his warriors first, a hang up from his days serving in the legions, leading them and witnessing the toll battle took on them. Now peace took its toll on them instead.
So he had agreed to tonight’s feast.
His men needed to blow off some steam, and if drinking and females could supply them with an outlet for it, he would gladly sit through a thousand boring feasts. He couldn’t give them war after all.
He had once contented himself with feasts, mead and females. It had worked for a while, taking the edge off, but now he found them dull.
What he wanted now was a battle. A war. It was the only thing that could improve his mood. The news from the other demon realms wasn’t helping. Several of them had gone to war recently, and although he had lobbied his advisers and made a valiant attempt to let the Second Realm join the Third Realm in their battle against the Fifth, their answer had been the same as always.
He must maintain the peace.
Tegan huffed again.
Maintaining the peace was exhausting. It went against his very nature.
He went to take another mouthful of his brew and frowned at the bottom of the large pewter mug when he found it empty. He held it out to his right and the male standing there refilled it for him. He nodded, lifting his mug to thank the male, and drank deeply, emptying half the tankard in one go.
A few of the warriors in the room tugged females away with them.
Almost time to put his plan into action.
He just needed to be patient for a little longer.
But patience wasn’t his strongest virtue. It lacked a little.
He tapped his foot, jiggling the female seated on his left thigh. One he had completely forgotten about, even though she was about to become a key factor in his battle plan.
She immediately went into action, fawning over him, running fingers over his shoulder, shifting the material of his loose white shirt as she murdered his language so badly, he struggled to interpret her meaning. “My lord, your muscles. You are strong.”
Tegan slid her a look he hoped conveyed how irritating she was. It didn’t stop her. She prattled on, all smiles as she flicked blonde hair over her shoulder to reveal a hefty amount of cleavage. Unsurprising given how tight her red leather bodice was.
He wasn’t sure what species she was, and he didn’t care.
He tuned her out as he surveyed his warriors. Were they really content with feasting and females? He wasn’t.
How was he meant to continue like this?
He was a warrior at heart, but every day he had to pretend to be something else. Worse, he had to be someone else. He no longer recognised the male who obeyed the wishes of his advisers even though he was tired of hearing them all tell him he had to place the peace of the kingdom above all else. He no longer recognised the male who sat on the throne, listening to the complaints of his people.
They were not content, not as they were meant to be anyway. Many came to him to complain about everything from their neighbours to the travelling traders he permitted to roam through the kingdom to sell their wares.
He settled his gaze on two males, both close to his seven-foot height, both packed with as much muscle as he was. Commanders like he had been. Demons born for war. They weren’t content. They stood to one side, had been there all night, deep in discussion and ignoring the advances of the females.
Talking of war? Of glorious days long past but not forgotten?
He wanted to speak with them, to relive the days they had fought beside each other, the great battles they had witnessed in their years and the close shaves that had brought them dancing dangerously with Death.
The female seated on his knee showed no sign of moving though and the two guards who flanked his throne, standing slightly behind it as if he wouldn’t notice them there, would stop him if he tried to speak with them. No doubt they had strict orders from the court to keep him from talk of war and battles tonight.
The two males glanced his way, lingered and dipped their heads, raising their tankards at the same time. He could see the weariness in their eyes, as if they were a reflection of him. The inactivity grated on them as viciously as it did on him.
If he could give them war, he would do so in a heartbeat.
Tegan mentally took that back too.
As much as he hated the peacefulness of his kingdom, as much as he craved doing battle, he couldn’t just go to war. The majority of his people had become accustomed to this dreadful peace. They enjoyed it, finding pleasure in having a land dominated by stability and peace.
He was their king, whether he wanted it or not, and he couldn’t deny them that which they desired—a kingdom not at war.
More of his men left with females in tow. Soon.
The night was growing older, the feast becoming louder, the merriment infectious as the gathered warriors consumed mead by the barrel and sampled their females, selecting the one who would pass the night in their bed.
He had successfully managed to pass the day evading his advisers, which had lifted his mood. Or that might have been the punishing training routine he had indulged in, competing in mock battle with four of the finest warriors in the Royal Legion. They were always kind enough to help him fill the tedious hours of the day and grant him some escape.
Tonight, he had meant to carry out his usual method of filling the dark hours.
A long time ago, that would have meant bedding one or more females, living up to the rumours that he had a harem of them at his disposal. He had quickly grown bored of females after ascending to the throne though.
Females were too compliant, always too willing to throw themselves at his feet in a grand effort to please the king.
So now he filled his night hours with a different sort of entertainment. A guilty pleasure he found himself indulging in more and more often recently.
His aide called him voracious. He had a thirst for knowledge that kept the male constantly teleporting back and forth to the mortal world to bring him more books. Since becoming king, he had learned twelve languages, both written and spoken. He had studied the culture and history of every mortal country, and every fae and immortal realm. He had learned about music and art, and as much as he could about the modern human world.
He had read books on almost every subject imaginable.
He had a library in his private floors of the castle, a sanctuary few knew about, one he was adding new shelves to and expanding every year.
That was where he had intended to pass the night after managing to escape the feast.
Only he had finished his last book while dressing for the feast.
So his plans had changed.
Had grown more thrilling.
He meant to escape more than the feast.
More than the castle.
He meant to escape Hell for the first time in a thousand years.
Just the thought of seeing the modern human world with his own eyes had adrenaline surging through his veins and he couldn’t contain the smile that tugged at his lips as his heart soared. He turned it on the female as she sidled closer, attempting to conceal the true reason for his excitement in case the guards were watching him.
She fluttered long black lashes, her grey eyes sparkling at him as she stroked the horns that curled from behind the top of his ears, her fingertips lightly tracing the curve of them down to his lobes in a way that did nothing for him.
She leaned in closer still and murmured in his ear, her use of the demonic tongue leaving a lot to be desired as she mangled his language in an attempt to seduce him. “Your horns are so big.”
He supposed she meant to use the old adage about a demon’s horns having a correlation with the size of his manhood.
Some part of him felt that he should be enjoying her attention and the feast, but he wasn’t.
Something wasn’t right, and it hadn’t been for a long time.
The female pressed against him, her breasts threatening to spill from her corset as she leaned her side against his chest and her arm came to rest along his shoulder. She pushed her fingers through the longer lengths of his black hair and skimmed them over the shorn sides to tease the more sensitive base of his horns.
He still felt nothing.
He swigged his mead as she traced patterns on his chest, working her way over to the lacing on his shirt. She toyed with the ties, curled them around her fingers and tugged, clearly intending for him to move closer.
He took another mouthful instead.
He wasn’t interested in the female. He hadn’t asked for her company, had given her no indication he desired her attention, yet here she was, fawning over him.
“You have masculine beauty,” she husked, and he gritted his teeth. Whoever had taught her to speak the demon tongue had done a bad job of it. “Strong male.”
Did she think her praise would rouse his interest and make him want her?
It had quite the opposite effect.
He had lost interest in carousing with females when he had realised they were only interested in one thing—his throne.
He despised the fact every female he met viewed him as a throne, not a male. They wanted the power he could give them, the status. They didn’t really want him. Of course, he could sleep with them and discard them, slaking some of his hunger on them, but where was the fun in that?
He preferred a challenge, something that would appease his hunger for battle. If he couldn’t do battle physically, he would do it mentally. He wanted a female who would be that challenge for him, one who would make him fight for her.
His warriors and his younger brother Ryker, the current prince, weren’t complaining about his lack of interest in the females. All the more for them.
Gods, Tegan envied Ryker a little. He had freedom, came and went as he pleased, while Tegan was locked in his castle, only allowed out with an entire entourage of advisers and bodyguards, and even then it was only to official functions where the kingdom needed to be represented by its king.
Ryker had everything Tegan had lost, and Tegan would give anything to return to that life.
His dark eyes scanned over the feast. Edyn would have lapped this up. He would have loved sitting on the throne with a female on his knees, soaking up her praise and that of his people.
Tegan hated it.
A thousand years he had endured this dull and unsatisfying life.
That changed tonight.
His battle plan was sound, everything was in place. His strategy had been checked from all angles, every little thing accounted for and covered. All that was left was to put it into action.
He signalled the male to his right, who eagerly bustled over, his jug at the ready. Rather than allowing the male to fill his cup, Tegan placed it on the tray in the male’s other hand and nodded.
Tegan grasped the female’s slender wrist, pulled it from behind his head and pushed her forwards, forcing her off him. She tottered a little, giggled and swayed against him as he stood.
The two males guarding him immediately moved forwards.
Tegan turned on them. “I do not require an audience.”
Both males dipped their heads and pressed their right hands to their bare chests.
He cut them off before they could mention standing guard outside his rooms. “You are done for the night. Enjoy the feast and the females.”
The two exchanged a glance and then looked beyond him, to the males who were still celebrating, pawing at the females on their laps and calling out to the others that wandered around the room, seeking a partner.
The younger male on his right looked as if he might mention the orders the court had given them, but the other male grabbed him by the back of his neck and pushed him forwards, guiding him towards the nearest females.
Phase one of his plan successfully completed, Tegan tugged the blonde female towards the side door of the grand hall, one only he could access. She stumbled along behind him, still throwing compliments and things he supposed were meant to sound seductive. He paid no attention to her as he mounted the spiral steps, eager to reach his rooms and move on to phase two.
The female slowed him down, so he turned and scooped her up into his arms and took the steps two at a time instead, making swift progress towards his private floors. She stroked his chest and shoulders, even went as far as pressing kisses to his throat as he kept his focus ahead of him.
Light chased back the darkness ahead of him and he quickened his pace, his heart pounding harder as he thought about what he was going to do.
He set the female down as soon as he reached the broad torchlit corridor at the end of the stairs and pulled her along behind him as he stormed towards the door of his apartment. She continued to twitter, babbled words that were lost on him as he went over his plan again, ensuring everything was perfect.
He shoved the wooden door open with the flat of his hand and pulled her inside, shoved her aside and released her as he closed the door behind him. She moved around his drawing room, saying things he didn’t hear as she studied the paintings that hung on the black stone walls and ran her fingers over the glass that covered the long low display cases that lined them, eyeing his collection of weapons, helmets and other things from all the regions of Hell.
His trophies of war.
She fell silent, her eyes landing on him as he pulled his shirt off over his head and discarded it on the wooden floor.
Her throat worked on a hard swallow and she sidled towards him, heat kindling in her eyes as she approached. She raked them over his chest and stomach and that heat became a fire.
“You are beautiful, my lord.”
Tegan turned away from her, grabbed the black shirt he had laid over the back of his wine-red wingback armchair before leaving for the feast and donned it. Disappointment flared in her eyes.
He ignored her and tackled the buttons on his shirt. Buttons. They were fiddly small things, irritating him as he fumbled with them, trying to close the shirt of mortal fashion that Ryker had given him as a present.
He wasn’t sure how his younger brother could wear such things.
It was tight and restrictive, made his back itch as his wings pushed for freedom. He focused to keep them hidden as he adjusted to the confining feel of the shirt. If he attempted to swing his sword arm, he would rip the damned garment to pieces.
But then, he supposed it hadn’t been made for fighting in.
When he had first tried it on at Ryker’s insistence, his brother had assured him it was all the ‘rage’ for males to wear such tight clothing in the human world, an apparent attempt to reveal their physique whilst still being dressed.
Tegan glanced at himself in the mirror above the fireplace behind him when he was done with the buttons. He arched an eyebrow at his reflection. He supposed the cut of the cloth was rather complimentary. It stretched across his broad chest and tightly gripped his biceps, and even hinted at his muscular stomach.
“You look divine,” the female purred in approval in the common tongue and he conceded that he did look rather good in human fashion. “Do I get to peel it off you?”
He flicked her a glare, stooped and picked up his coin purse from the table beside his armchair. She swayed towards him, her eyes on his chest, clearly intent on unbuttoning the shirt he had just put on. He moved around her, crossed the room to a set of black wooden drawers, and pulled the one on the right open. He picked up a smaller coin purse and hung it with his other one on the waist of his black leathers.
He turned back to the female.
He would get into trouble with his advisers if they got wind of what he had done, but he didn’t care. He needed a change of scenery. He had been stuck in this castle for the last thousand years. It was time he got out.
It was only going to be for a short time. Everyone would think he was sleeping with the female in his quarters. He would be back before he was missed.
He just wanted a taste of the current mortal world to see if it was as exciting as the stories painted it to be, filled with marvellous technology that sounded like fantasy to him. He had heard tales of it from the Third King and his mate, glorious stories of a world that was vastly different to the one he remembered.
Electronic communication devices that could be used to speak with someone across the globe? Impossible.
Giant metal birds that carried mortals to far-flung destinations? Laughable.
But he had heard the stories coming from the Third Realm and the king himself had told Tegan all about the miracles of mortal technology. Thorne was using the technology to bring electricity into the demon realm he ruled.
Tegan glanced at the sconces burning on the black wall, at the dark wooden furniture of the office that adjoined his drawing room, and the paintings hanging on the walls. Mortals had things that took paintings. No, that wasn’t right. They called them photographs. They displayed them on their walls rather than paintings now, and such photographs appeared on electronic devices too.
Thorne had shown him such a strange device when the demon king had brought his new queen to visit. The mortal queen of the Third Realm had one in her possession.
It had been magic.
It had awed him.
A flat rectangle no bigger than Tegan’s hands side-by-side but it had been colourful and bright, and she had touched it and things had happened. His advisers had deemed it witchcraft of the darkest degree and warned him against it, but Tegan had been fascinated. He wanted to see more of these mortal inventions.
He wanted to possess them.
It wasn’t as if he was committing a crime by leaving the kingdom. He was king. He only meant to go out to a place the Third King talked about and also purchase some more books. Small steps. If the mission was successful, perhaps he would go out again.
He grabbed hold of the female. She pressed closer to him, sliding her hands over his chest and leaning into his embrace. Tegan kept hold of her as he summoned his portal. The black abyss opened beneath them and the female squeaked as they dropped into it. They landed in the free realm, in the middle of the town he had once visited. People on the black cobbled street between the obsidian stone buildings stopped to stare as he pushed her away from him and distanced himself.
“This is as far as you go,” Tegan said.
Confusion danced in her pale grey eyes and she tried to get closer to him again. He backed off a step, maintaining the distance between them, and the confusion turned to anger as he spoke.
“I am leaving now.” He took the smaller coin purse from his belt and tossed it at her.
She caught it and he teleported before she could give him hell, nerves and excitement clashing inside him as he dropped back into the black abyss.
Heading to the mortal world.
That filled him with an unsettling, but thrilling sensation.
His life had been static for the last thousand years.
Now he was going to taste freedom.
And something told him his life would never be the same again.
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling London Vampires series. Seven sexy and sinful Greek god brothers can be your new addiction in the Guardians of Hades series. Or how about four hot alpha shifter brothers in her Cougar Creek Mates series? Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places:
Title: Coming Home to the CowboyAuthor: Megan Ryder
Genre: Western Contemporary RomanceRelease Date: September 23, 2019
Cover Designer: Tule Publishing and Lee HyattHosted by:Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
The town bad boy with hidden pain…
Champion bull-rider and all-around fun guy Chase Summers is everybody’s friend, but his affable personality hides a lifetime of pain. Having been abandoned as a young child at the steps of a church, he learned young that he was unwanted. The only thing that saved him from isolation was his foster dad and life on Redemption Ranch. Now he spends his time on the rodeo circuit, sending home his winnings to help the ranch succeed, and his nights with buckle bunnies, making sure no one gets close enough to touch the pain deep inside.
The town good girl who saw the good in everyone…
When accountant and small business advisor Hailey Spencer is hired by Redemption Ranch to implement their guest ranch ideas, she and Chase are thrown together. It’s not long before he is introduced to the son that she had with his best friend. The best friend who would’ve following Chase anywhere…even the bull riding circuit with it’s deadly potential. With Hailey hanging on to resentment and Chase racked with guilt, the two try to fight their age-old attraction – in vain. Chase knows Hailey deserves more than a broken-down cowboy for her son and her heart.
Can Chase resist the call of the rodeo and man up for a woman he’s loved for years or will he leave for the allure of the road.
Chase Summers leaned against the tunnel wall leading out to the arena, thumbs hooked in the loops of his comfortable old jeans and wearing his lucky flannel shirt under the competitor’s vest with his sponsor’s badges decorating the lapels. He barely heard the dull roar of the crowd, the pounding country rock music, sounds he could filter out as he focused on his ride. People milled about, other cowboys waiting for their rides, watching the competition, or those who had finished and were seeing who made the next round with them. The sports medicine team pushed past Chase and ran to the arena to help one of the riders who had just gotten thrown and was slow to get up. Chase didn’t go look, couldn’t afford the distraction, not this close to his ride. Couldn’t let the risks mess with his head, not yet. He’d check the status later on the injury list.
It’d been a bad season so far. Bull riding was one of the most dangerous sports there was. Yeah, people complained about football. Two men lining up to attack each other in the pursuit of a ball. Not that he didn’t love football or respect the game, but those men weighed a couple hundred pounds. Put a guy who weighed a couple hundred pounds, maybe, against a fifteen hundred to two thousand-pound bull who didn’t play by any rules except to kick the shit out of you. Then see who had it rougher.
Despite the dangers, he’d ride the bull any day. The rush, the adrenaline, the reward was intense. But this season there seemed to be more injuries than usual, more of the top guys out for extended periods. The number one rider was kicked in the face just two weeks ago and needed major reconstruction, leaving the field open for someone like Chase to catch up.
He took a deep breath, letting the smell of dirt, bull, and rawhide permeate his lungs, then he let it out slowly, expelling the thoughts of injuries like a bad odor. The scents reminded him of the ranch, the only home he’d ever known, the home he never thought he’d actually have and wouldn’t have except for the generosity of his mentor and foster father, Douglas Rawlings.
J.D. McIntyre strode up next to him, his chaps and jeans coated in dirt from his fall in the ring and clapped him on the shoulder. “You up next? Who did you draw?”
“Oleander,” Chase replied, nodding to his sometime traveling companion and hell-raiser.
J.D. snorted. “Better you than me. That bull looks sweet and docile but turns into a righteous demon in the chute.”
Chase shrugged and checked his gloves. “He’s worth the points. I’ll need them for the lead.”
J.D. shook his head. “Well, someone had to draw him. If anyone can, it’d be you. Go beat the Brazilian and bring home the trophy. I’m out of the running for now. Damned Quick Draw tossed me in 2.8 seconds.”
Chase grunted. Quick Draw was living up to his name again. But J.D. was his only other real competition outside of Antonio Pereira. Antonio was ranked number three overall, but he hadn’t gotten as high a bull as Chase or J.D. If Chase could ride Oleander, he could take the competition from Antonio and gain serious ground in the overall rankings.
He heard his name being called to the chute.
“See you on the other side.” He nodded to J.D. and strode to the ride-chute where Oleander was already being led.
Oleander was a beast of a bull, docile as most of these creatures were outside of the arena, calm, almost amiable. He was mostly white with a few splashes of black to break up the albino quality. He settled quietly in the chute, no banging against the metal walls, no fighting the handlers. Chase eyed the bull who steadfastly ignored him, as if he were bored with the proceedings, but Chase knew better.
Chase climbed the metal fencing next to the bull and handed the rope to the handler. He grabbed the opposite fence across the bull, making sure to get a good grip, then he set his boot solidly on Oleander’s back, letting the bull know he was there. He waited a few seconds, pausing to the let the bull do his customary buck, an introduction from Oleander, a preliminary howdy-do. He then slid his legs around the bull, keeping his toes pointed forward to ensure his spurs stayed away from its flanks. He warmed up the rope, checking the slack, then rubbed the rope to get the rosin sticky and hot on his glove. He punched the rosin rope away and warmed the handle, to improve his grip. Then he positioned the bull rope for the ride.
Through this, Oleander stayed fairly docile, almost asleep, but Chase wasn’t fooled. No bull was assigned the final round of any tournament if he wasn’t a tough contender, and Oleander was one of the toughest. Several competitors swore this damned beast used psychological warfare against many of the riders to beat them. No one had ever ridden him successfully; Chase was fixing to be the first.
When the rope was situated to his satisfaction, he took the final piece of wrap and slid up the back, put his feet toward the shoulder of the bull, and nodded.
The chute opened with a clang and they were off.
Oleander came alive in a whirlwind of motion, shoulders and back arching then colliding with the ground, designed to jar the rider’s teeth. At the same time, the bull’s back end came up, and twisted to throw Chase off balance and hopefully off his back, but Chase was prepared and moved with the bull. Chase kept his legs clasped around the bull’s body, shifting and moving as the bull flung his body about in a ferocious attempt to dislodge the human interloper from his back. All the while, Chase waited to hear the blessed bell indicating that he had successfully made the eight seconds needed to beat the behemoth between his legs.
But all he heard was the sound of grunts and snorts and bull snot flying. Then, finally, the sound of victory. The bell sounded and Chase made his move to dismount, but the bull made one unexpected sideways turn and a blunted horn came straight right for Chase’s head.
Ever since Megan Ryder discovered Jude Deveraux and Judith McNaught while sneaking around the “forbidden” romance section of the library one day after school, she has been voraciously devouring romance novels of all types. Now a romance author in her own right, Megan pens sexy contemporary novels all about family and hot lovin’ with the boy next door. She lives in Connecticut, spending her days as a technical writer and her spare time divided between her addiction to knitting and reading.
Rena Mason counts the days until she can leave for college. Every night her
father drinks himself to sleep, leaving her to care for her younger brother.
When her father is kidnapped by terrorists, her dreams of freedom become a
Stunned that her father
has a history with these terrorists, Rena knows she must run or be their next
victim. She learns the tough guy at school has a reason to look after her –
he’s working for a government agency with the same goal as the terrorists: find
a woman who disappeared eighteen years ago. Time is running out since only this
woman’s special gift can save the world from a looming nuclear attack.
Rena can’t trust
anyone, especially not the stone-cold agent she’s falling for. Can they save
the world before Rena’s feelings trap her in an agent’s fight for justice?
Fear Justice contains
elements of fantasy, sci-fi, and paranormal, with a clean romance. It’s the
first book in an exciting new series called The Fear Chronicles.
He smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Tony and no, I’ve never
thought of myself as a nice guy.”
Staring at his outstretched hand, I hesitated. “Rena.”
Tony moved his hand closer and his eyes took on a look of
intensity, as if daring me to shake his hand.
“What’s with the gloves?” I asked.
“Skin allergies. What’s with the hesitation?”
“Hesitation?” With defiance, I reached forward. “I’m not
afraid of you.”
“What are you afraid of?”
As his hand gripped mine, my breathing sped and I fought to
control my voice. Our skin wasn’t even touching. Hiding my feelings with Robbie
had been easy, but this was… weird. “Why are you worried about who I date? You
don’t even know me.”
“I know your name is Rena Mason. We’ve got physics
A twinge of guilt caught me off-guard. “I haven’t noticed
“My dad taught me to blend in with my surroundings, like
“He was a hunter?”
“Not exactly, but he did teach me how to shoot before he
“Left?” The instant his words were out, I felt a connection
to him. It was a sadness that welled from deep inside, the knowledge that we
were alike in a terrible way.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
grew up in south Alabama, where she’s happy to still reside. She’s an engineer
by day and a writer by night—too bad she could never do one without the other.
fishing… she loves the outdoors and the warm Alabama weather. For years she
thought up stories to write and finally started putting them on paper back in
2006. If you hear her talking with no one to answer, don’t think she’s crazy.
Since talking through her stories works best, a library is her worst place to
write… even though it’s her favorite!
C.C. loves to
mix sci-fi and paranormal—throw in a little romance and adventure and you’ve
got her kind of story. She’s written nine books including the Leftover Girl
series, The Agency series, and The Fear Chronicles.
by Sara Faring
Release Date: September 24th 2019
Genre: Young Adult, Thriller, Horror, Mystery, Historical Fiction
Simmering in Patagonian myth, The Tenth
Girl is a gothic psychological thriller with a haunting twist.
At the very southern tip of South
America looms an isolated finishing school. Legend has it that the land will
curse those who settle there. But for Mavi—a bold Buenos Aires native fleeing
the military regime that took her mother—it offers an escape to a new life as a
young teacher to Argentina’s elite girls.
Mavi tries to embrace the strangeness
of the imposing house—despite warnings not to roam at night, threats from an
enigmatic young man, and rumors of mysterious Others. But one of Mavi’s ten
students is missing, and when students and teachers alike begin to behave as if
possessed, the forces haunting this unholy cliff will no longer be ignored.
One of these spirits holds a secret
that could unravel Mavi’s existence. In order to survive she must solve a
cosmic mystery—and then fight for her life.
Born in Los Angeles, Sara
Faring is a multi-lingual Argentine-American fascinated by literary
puzzles. After working in investment banking at J.P. Morgan, she worked at
Penguin Random House. She holds degrees from the University of Pennsylvania in
International Studies and from the Wharton School in Business. She currently
resides in New York City.
Her first novel, The Tenth Girl, will be released by
Macmillan/Imprint on September 24, 2019. Sara is represented by Sarah
Bedingfield at Levine Greenberg Rostan Agency.
Decades after a cataclysmic nuclear war, Ghanaian scientists
develop technology that stores consciousness onto data orbs called retcons.
Seventeen-year-old forensic specialist, Feeni Xo, is an Enhuman (a
radiation-enhanced metabolic human) that, similar to a vampire, needs blood for
sustenance. Through a game called the House of Oware, Feeni discovers that the
virtual construct is actually an augmented reality. She and her human best
friend, Sammi, a young detective, have been mysteriously given specialized
neural implants that allow them to hack into government software. The two
teenagers race against time in a horrific world of deformed beasts to piece
together the puzzles of the digital mosaic. Will they find a way to save
sentient beings from total extinction or will they run out of time?
Praise for Oware Mosaic: “Once again, Nzondi creates a rich
and vibrant world crackling with life. He is a brilliant writer, one readers
and critics should be watching.” —Pete Nowalk, creator of How To Get Away With
“Nzondi’s ‘Oware Mosaic’ is real Afrofuturism, speculative
fiction actually set on the continent itself. This is the future of sf, and the
future is looking good.” —Steven Barnes, author of Lion’s Blood.
born Acemandese Nzondi Hall in Queens, New York. Hall received his BFA from C.
W. Post, Long Island University. Hall is a two-time Honorable Mention winner of
the Writers and Illustrators of the Future Award. He is also the author of the
novels, The Oware Mosaic (Omnium
Gatherum, September 2019), Confessions
of Sylva Slasher, (Montag Press, April 2013) and a
non-fiction book, Lord
of the Flies: Fitness for Writers (Omnium Gatherum,
I was born in a dead man’s
city. My first taste of how bitter life was, came when my parents died on my
eighth birthday. I ended up springing from foster home to foster home but spent
the majority of my useless childhood playing role-playing games online to flee
from the sting of the African streets. I never played with dolls, wore makeup
nor had a boyfriend. Why? The world had fallen ill due to a virus called hate,
and that was one disease that led to wars so brutal, it crippled the planet.
So there wasn’t much to do in
an insufferable wasteland but play virtual reality games, get wasted and berate
myself for still wanting to make a difference on a planet where the word hope
had become obsolete in all languages.
There is a
tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
Winner’s choice between a copy of MADDEN ’20 or a
$60 gift card to Fashion Nova
by Kate Williams Publisher: Delacorte Press Release Date: September 17th 2019Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Witches
Synopsis: Adventures in Babysitting meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer in this funny, action-packed novel about a coven of witchy babysitters who realize their calling to protect the innocent and save the world from an onslaught of evil. Seventeen-year-old Esme Pearl has a babysitters club. She knows it’s kinda lame, but what else is she supposed to do? Get a job? Gross. Besides, Esme likes babysitting, and she’s good at it. And lately Esme needs all the cash she can get, because it seems like destruction follows her wherever she goes. Let’s just say she owes some people a new tree. Enter Cassandra Heaven. She’s Instagram-model hot, dresses like she found her clothes in a dumpster, and has a rebellious streak as gnarly as the cafeteria food. So why is Cassandra willing to do anything, even take on a potty-training two-year-old, to join Esme’s babysitters club? The answer lies in a mysterious note Cassandra’s mother left her: “Find the babysitters. Love, Mom.” Turns out, Esme and Cassandra have more in common than they think, and they’re about to discover what being a babysitter really means: a heroic lineage of superpowers, magic rituals, and saving the innocent from seriously terrifying evil. And all before the parents get home.
I’m a YA write or die, originally from Kansas but now living in California. I’ve written for Cosmopolitan, NYLON and Seventeen, amongst other magazines, and worked with brands including Urban Outfitters, Vans and Calvin Klein. The Babysitters Coven is my first novel, but fingers crossed it won’t be my last.
skeptic Marvin meets artistic Natalie in a coffee shop on a cold October
morning, the two fall fast in love, but nothing is ever as easy as it feels.
Natalie believes that a
divine something is guiding her life for her greater good, and it seems to be
true. She lands her dream job and she and Marvin marry at a beachside castle.
However, the ease and flow of their lives start to change. At the same time that
Natalie becomes pregnant, Marvin experiences strange symptoms and visits his
EXCERPT : Marvin heads into his oversized master bath to start the shower. He is sensitive when it comes to nature, so he has a top of the line water purification system that allows him to use the ocean water in his home. It siphons water from the ocean, removes the salt and impurities, and leaves him with the smoothest, cleanest water in town. He is hopeful that the city will one day take advantage of such a resourceful product, but he isn’t surprised that they haven’t. The water is silky and hot as it rains down on his body. His showerhead is automated with voice command, so he can tell it if he wants jet stream, raindrops, massage or pulsating. Marvin’s home may be more modest than most in the area, but he never held back on the luxuries of things he liked. He turns the steam feature on as he shuts the water off and grabs his towel. He loves standing in the steam, with it smelling the way only steam in a clean shower can smell. He has always been very in touch with his senses and felt them all deeply: touch, taste, smell, hearing, vision, and the unspoken sixth sense. He is unconsciously aware of his intuition because his analytical mind has yet to bring it forth; however, it will happen when the timing is right. He steps out of his steamy fortress, his hair awry, and drapes his towel over the shower door. As he steps in front of the mirror, admiring his sculpted body, he wonders if Talie might be up, if she was even awake.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Zajkowski has an exhilaration for life while exploring all areas from the
ethereal to the ordinary, and she appreciates learning something from every
aspect. Her main theme in life is fun, as she indulges in laughter and looks
for the positive in every situation. She also thrives on pushing the boundaries
of the body while enduring in the sport of Triathlon, having completed a Half
Ironman. However, it’s her first love of running that brings her an immense
sense of liberation and connectedness with the beauty of the world. Lisa loves
connecting with people, and being a massage therapist allows her to do this as
she enjoys helping people facilitate healing within their innate body systems.
She is comforted in the softer side of life while cuddling with her dogs and
cat, and desires to own a horse ranch. Lisa revels in the freedom of being
fluid in her writing, taking pleasure in all genres of authoring. She is
currently working on Drama, Sci-Fi, and Horror novels.
One randomly chosen winner via
rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
by an Angel (Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series Book 16) by Felicity
Heaton – Book Tour and Giveaway!
New York Times best-selling paranormal
romance author Felicity Heaton is here today for the book tour of her new paranormal
romance release, Avenged
by an Angel, the latest release in her popular Eternal
If you love big worlds packed with detail and every
paranormal species imaginable, together with hot alpha heroes and strong heroines
bringing them to their knees, then this series is definitely for you. Plus,
each book has a happily forever after and there are no cliff-hangers, because
there’s nothing worse than a cliff-hanger!
ABOUT THE BOOK
by an Angel (Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series Book 16) by Felicity Heaton
Duty should mean everything to the Fourth Commander of the Echelon angels. It
did before he met her. Now, the only demon he wants to slay is the one that
haunts the enchanting mortal huntress, and the temptation to hunt him in Hell,
a realm that might kill him, is becoming impossible to resist.
Held captive by a dragon shifter in Hell, Emelia
survived a torment that changed her in ways she hates. She wants her strength
back. Her life back. To do that, she needs closure. To get that, she might have
to trust not only a man again, but an immortal.
But when the price of vengeance is the soul of the
angel bringing her back to life, will Emelia be willing to pay it?
The alarms were still blaring ten minutes
later as Emelia ran beside a group of black-clad hunters down a corridor on the
second level of the building. The flashing red lights hurt her tired eyes, and
her muscles protested, threatening to cramp as she pushed herself to keep moving.
“Might be a breach in the cell block,” a
hunter said to his companion as they broke off, turning down a hallway to her
She doubted that. Any breach in the cell
block would have been dealt with by now by one of the teams that had been
It was him.
She knew it.
She would never forget the way electricity
had charged the air when he had appeared in the building the first time they
had met. The strange sensation had faded now, but she hadn’t imagined it.
It was the angel.
He had come back.
She just wasn’t sure where he was.
She had checked the place where they had
met, a small observation room next to one of the grim white medical cells where
the scientists and doctors at Archangel often studied the non-humans the hunters
captured and brought in for them. The angel hadn’t been there.
Where would he go?
She ground to a halt as she realised
She wanted to find him. She wanted to see
Her pulse pounded for a different reason as
that hit her, and she moved to the cream wall and pressed her palm to it for
support as she stared at the wooden floor. Awareness rushed through her, the
past few weeks rolling up on her and leaving her stunned. She had been drawing
further and further away from everyone else, even her friends.
But not from him.
What was it about the angel that had her
moving towards him, seeking him?
He was a stranger to her, and a dangerous
man. Very dangerous. She had witnessed that for herself.
So why was she experiencing a rush of
adrenaline, a quiet thrill at the thought he had returned?
Why was she happy that he was here?
Because he was an angel, so she felt he
could help her by using his power to free her from the pain of her memories by
healing her battered mind somehow?
Or because she had seen the darkness in
him, the savage side that had startled her at the time because he was an angel,
and had felt the power he commanded, strength that matched, if not surpassed,
what Zephyr possessed?
Her fingers tensed against the cream wall.
Did she want the angel to heal her… or
destroy the dragon?
She lifted her other hand and pressed it to
her chest. Her heart thundered against her palm as she dug her fingertips in,
clawing her black T-shirt into her fist.
She wasn’t sure.
A prickling sensation ran up her arms. She
dropped her gaze to her left forearm, frowning as the hairs stood on end. A
moment later, the familiar charge began to build, barely noticeable at first,
but as she focused on it, she could feel it growing.
Was he planning to leave?
Panic propelled her feet into action, and
she sprinted down the corridor only to stop at the next cross junction. She
slowly turned back the way she had come. The charge was weaker here, away from
the spot she had just occupied. Was she moving away from him?
She ran back the way she had come and
focused as best she could on the strange feeling. Her breaths came faster as it
built inside her, and she was sure she was moving closer to him now. She
followed it up through the building, letting her instincts and that electrical
charge guide her.
She ground to a halt in front of the fire
exit that would take her to the roof.
The charge was strongest here, a rush of
tingles constantly running up and down her spine, tripping over her skin
beneath her black combat gear. She took a moment, trying to settle her heart
and level out her breathing. Her hands shook as she smoothed them over her damp
hair, using the action of drawing the dark ribbons of it into a rough knot at
the back of her head to calm herself.
Emelia blew out her breath, gripped the
handle, and pushed. The heavy door creaked open, and she stepped out onto the
flat roof. The cool night air chilled her, brushing across her damp nape and raising
the hairs on her bare arms as surely as the angel had.
Was he here?
She shuffled out onto the roof, her eyes
adjusting to the dim light that rose from below her, allowing her to see
through it. Objects gradually appeared, gaining form and depth as she moved
deeper into the darkness, leaving the safety of the door behind. Nerves
threatened to send her running back that way, a whispered taunt in her mind
reminding her that she hadn’t left the building in more than a week.
That she was in danger out here in the
She instinctively glanced up and then shook
her head. The dragon wasn’t here, and he couldn’t shift in her world. There was
nothing to fear from that inky sky.
She moved around one of the air-conditioning
outlets and paused.
Her breath hitched.
Heart lodged in her throat.
She clenched her fists to stop them from
trembling and lingered in the shadows, away from the sphere of slender light
that emanated from the pitched glass windows that formed a skylight for fifteen
feet down the middle of the roof.
Slender light that washed over the man
lazing on the gritty dark ground before her, his hands tucked behind his head,
supporting it as he stared at the sky.
Looking nothing like she had expected.
The thick onyx hair and silver eyes had
remained the same, the chiselled contours of his face and strong line of his
jaw exactly as she had remembered them, but everything else was wrong.
He looked more human than angel.
No huge white wings.
No pristine white tunic suited to one of
A dark turtleneck and black slacks hugged
his powerful physique, emphasising muscles that roused a wariness in her and
had her wanting to take a step back from him. She knew he was strong, he didn’t
need to drive the point home by showing off honed muscles that screamed he
could easily overpower her.
Emelia fought the wave of panic that rose
If he wanted to hurt her, he probably would
have done it by now. He was aware of her. She wasn’t an idiot. He was pretending
to be oblivious to her standing in the shadows, looking at him, on the verge of
a panic attack. To give her time to calm herself and adjust to his presence?
It certainly seemed like an angelic thing
to do so she rolled with it as his reason for not even glancing at her.
She swallowed to wet her dry mouth and
throat and risked a step towards him. “What are you doing?”
The black slashes of his eyebrows rose but
he still didn’t look at her. “Trying to relax.”
Funny that. She had been trying to relax
too, before the alarms had sounded. Now she was trying to relax all over again,
repeatedly telling herself that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
She braved another step closer so she could
see him more clearly in what little light shone on him. He did seem tense.
Lines bracketed the corners of his full
mouth as he moved his right arm, lowering it to his stomach, and she didn’t
miss the way he shifted that hand to his left side.
“Any reason you’ve chosen to relax on the
roof of Archangel?” She canted her head to her right, peering at his face.
He didn’t answer.
She glanced over her shoulder towards the
fire exit as the alarms continued to ring. It was only a matter of time before
one or more of the hunters scouring the building below her for the intruder
ended up checking the roof. What would he do then?
What would she do?
“The alarms are ringing because of you,”
she murmured, her eyes still on the door.
It beckoned her, luring her with a promise
of safety. She was safe in there, shut away from the world.
“My apologies.” His deep baritone rolled
over her, chasing that desire away, together with her panic. It slowly faded as
she shifted her focus to him, coming to face him. The alarms ceased, but he
still didn’t look at her as he said, “Is that better?”
He had silenced them the last time they had
met too. What other powers did he possess?
She nodded, relieved the world had fallen
silent again. Hopefully the hunters would believe the intruder was gone or was
never there to begin with, and would go back to their duties. It might buy her
time to find out why there was an angel lazing on the roof, his eyes on the
Those eyes shifted like mercury in the weak
moonlight, eerily bright despite the darkness.
“Are you here about Sable again?” She inched
closer, narrowing the distance between them down to under ten feet.
He finally looked at her.
It was nothing more than a brief glance, a
bare brush of those dazzling silver eyes over her from head to toe before they
fixed back on the stars. Nerves instantly rushed through her, thoughts filling
her mind that had butterflies whirling in her stomach like a damned hurricane.
Emelia edged another step closer as her
memories pushed harder.
And hell, that was just as bizarre as
finding him dressed like a regular guy on her rooftop.
Normally when the crush of memories happened,
she wanted to get away from everyone.
Not get closer
She reminded herself that she couldn’t
trust anyone now. Whatever trust she’d once had, it lay broken now, fragmented
like her strength.
Fractured like her soul.
“I will not hurt you,” he murmured softly
without looking at her, his voice a balm to her ragged nerves, soothing the
torn edges of them. “I did not come to upset you.”
Had he sensed her mounting panic?
Immortals had acute senses, but she hadn’t
expected his to be that sharp. The panic hadn’t even gripped her yet, had only
been on the verge of seizing her, but he had felt it, and he had sought to
She breathed a little easier, managed
another step closer to him, and was rewarded for her courage by the memories
that had been surfacing fading away instead. She tried to relax, but it was
difficult. No matter how many times she told herself that he was an angel, that
he wouldn’t hurt her, the tension in her body remained.
A different memory surfaced as she looked
down at him, a flash of him in that observation room, his face a mask of
darkness and eyes as hard as diamonds as he had growled that he would kill the
dragon for her.
“I like the view of the stars from here.”
His deep voice wrapped around her again, pulling her back to the present, and
she had the feeling he had known she was slipping away again and had wanted to
bring her back to him.
She tipped her head back and charted the
faint pinpricks that struggled to pierce the lights of the city. Calm washed
over her as she gazed at them, carrying away her fears and leaving her feeling
lighter, freer than she had in a long time.
“The city lights drown them out, but… I
like to look at the stars too now.” She lost herself in them and everything
fell away, all the weight lifting from her with it.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from them
as she let the words slip out rather than holding them back. “They help me
remember I’m not in Hell anymore.”
The briefest trace of cold washed over her
exposed skin and the stars seemed to dim for a heartbeat before they returned.
“The stars are always more beautiful from
your world.” His voice was tight now, held an edge that was sharp as a blade
and at odds to his words.
Was he trying to control his mood? The
world had darkened as it had before when his temper had snapped, but it had
only lasted a split second this time. Because he didn’t want to scare her?
He sounded like she did at times when she
was close to snapping, trying to be polite to stop herself from lashing out at
those who were trying to smother her.
“The lights drown the stars out.” She
squeezed the words past her tight throat and told herself to breathe, because
she was safe here.
“I can see them,” he murmured. “I see
things a little differently to you.”
She could imagine.
She tried to find her favourite
constellations, wishing she could see the stars as clearly as he could. She had
seen pictures of the Milky Way viewed in complete darkness, and she would love to
see it with her own eyes. She wanted to immerse herself in nature, in
everything that Hell lacked. Stars. Trees. The sun. She had basked in it more
than once in the doorway behind her, not quite brave enough to laze on the roof
as he was and bathe in it.
“Why are you here?” She lowered her eyes to
He looked at her at last.
“I am sorry. I could not stay away any
longer.” His voice was low as he spoke, an honesty in his silver eyes that drew
a frown from her.
She hadn’t seen honesty in anyone’s eyes in
a long time. She had seen pity, disgust, guilt, and everything in between, but
He was truly sorry, but she wasn’t sure
“Couldn’t stay away?” The answer struck
her. “You mean from Sable.”
He had come for her friend again, sent here
to make another attempt to take her to his realm. He was going to be sorely
“She isn’t here. As far as I know, she’s in
Hell with Thorne.”
His gaze locked with hers. “From you.”
Emelia stared into those honest eyes, saw
the truth in them as they brightened, turning gold at the edges, and panicked.
She backed off a step as the fear he had
chased away surged through her, memories fighting to the surface to twist her
thoughts. She had to get away. She had to go. It wasn’t safe here. She
swallowed her racing heart and tried to calm her mind, but fear sank icy claws
into both of them, and she couldn’t breathe.
He sat up, grimacing as he clutched his
left side. “I am sorry. Do not fear me. I would never hurt you, Emelia.”
She couldn’t convince herself to believe
Zephyr had told her he would never hurt her
again, and then he had struck her so hard when she had refused his advances
that he had broken one of her ribs. She lowered her hand to her right side,
mirroring the angel as he struggled to his feet, pain tightening his features.
“Emelia,” he murmured, his soft voice doing
nothing to calm her this time. “I need to know more about you… about that
diabolical bastard who hurt you.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to
speak about such things. She just wanted to leave. She needed to leave. So why
couldn’t she convince her feet to move?
Why did part of her want to stay?
“I tried to forget you,” he grated, the
gold that ringed his irises beginning to invade them now as the air around him
darkened. “I tried to forget what I saw… but I cannot… and I cannot focus on my
duty anymore. The dragon must pay.”
All her fear and panic flooded out of her
just like that, as if he had uttered magical words not a simple vow to avenge
her. Calm flowed in, cold and clinical, erasing all feeling in its path,
leaving her feeling empty inside.
She stared into his shifting eyes, ones
that were still honest and open, hiding none of his feelings. His anger. His
fury. It was all there for her to see.
“The dragon lives in Hell,” she uttered.
A place he apparently couldn’t go without
experiencing great pain.
“I do not care.” He ground the words out as
the air around him continued to darken and his eyes brightened further, pulling
her under their spell. “I will slay this dragon for you.”
She wanted that.
She wanted Zephyr dead.
But if the angel ventured into Hell, he
would be weakened, in danger of being killed by Zephyr. Sending him to hunt the
dragon might be sending him to his death.
Was that a price she could bring herself to
pay for a shot at revenge?
Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA
Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance
books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing
action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary
from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to
sinful angels and hot demons! If you’re a fan of paranormal romance authors
Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan
then you will enjoy her books too.
If you love your angels a little dark and
wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong,
powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her
stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that
are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling London Vampires
series. Seven sexy and sinful Greek god brothers can be your new addiction in
the Guardians of Hades series. Or how about four hot alpha shifter brothers in
her Cougar Creek Mates series? Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled
with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons
to shifters and angels, then take a look at the Eternal Mates series.
If you want to know more about Felicity, or
want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places: