Promo Blitz: Return of the Convict by William Alan Thomas

 

Science Fiction
Date Published:  February 2016
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It’s 2143. In the aftermath of wars, plagues and environmental breakdown, there’s growing hope. Thanks to extensive brain implants, space cadet Dom enjoys a perfect memory. He and girlfriend Astra practice telepathy and attain new heights.
Lucas, Dom’s benefactor and parent clone, is a diseased convict now returned from Martian exile. Dom’s brain implants offer Lucas the chance for a life-saving mind merger, and he intends to make that happen.
Praise for Return of the Convict:
“a crackling, well-told story…exciting, thought-provoking.”–Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“The novel is in turn thrilling and thought-provoking, and has the makings of a powerful sci-fi franchise.”–Foreword Reviews (Clarion Review, 5 stars)
 
“captivating, relentlessly paced…this novel should more than satisfy anyone who enjoys cerebral sci-fi.”–Blueink Review (starred review)
 
Excerpt
Dec. 16, 2143
There were forty-five of us transports crammed into the space bus, and even though everyone was sedated, the two and a half day trip was arduous.
              After we docked there was a slight shaking. Our capsule shot backward, and stopped. With a hissing of air, the door slid open. “Welcome to Mir,” a man’s voice said. “Everybody out.”
              The artificial gravity here was less than the moon’s; I got up without much difficulty. Two uniformed guards checked us off as we came out. “You’re Dominic Tessier,” one said crisply, when she touched my ID tag with a scanner.
                My legs uncertain, I stepped onto a moving sidewalk that took us through a tunnel. In a few minutes the passageway curved, and the main terminus area of the space station came into view. I held tight to the railing and stared. The people here arrived and departed from all over the solar system: personnel from the space ships, businessmen, and new-world workers. Some, while roughly dressed, had a special swagger. I thought they might be prospectors. Then a group of T-men walked through in unisex suits and skull caps. Although silent, their expressions and gestures showed communication. Thanks to their brain implants, they were telepathic.
                Only a few months earlier, I’d been a student at the Space Training Academy. My brain was being transformed through implants, and I looked forward myself, to a career in space as a T-man administrator. An awful injustice had been done to me, and my dreams were trashed. Yet I felt no regret, resentment, or any emotion at all. A silver bracelet around my wrist created a chemically-induced docility, more powerful than chains.
                Our guards took us along a walkway above a large, brightly lit loading dock. Through the side-mesh I could see the Stellar Blossom. The ship’s blue hull seemed to stretch on forever; it dwarfed the men gathered to service her.
                Ahead was a short, balding man I remembered from my time in jail. “Phil,” I called, catching up to him.
                He turned to me without surprise. “Hello, Dom,” he said in the slow speech of the bracelet wearers. He pointed up the dock to a line of people entering the ship under a bright yellow canopy. “Did you notice? Some are women.”
                “Passengers,” I said. “A different world.”
About the Author

A University of Chicago graduate in English, William Alan Thomas has been a civil servant, fisherman, and first aid attendant, among many other things. He’s written most of his life, and today his two main series, thriller and sci-fi, are well underway.

 

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Review: Kulti by Mariana Zapata

KultiKulti by Mariana Zapata
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Sal Casillas has worked hard to get to where she is in soccer. Finding out that the new assistant coach is her former heartthrob crush who unbeknownst to him broke her heart and of course their is the situation he created with her brother who plays soccer still. What she thought she would get from Reiner Kulti goes out the window real quick, he is quiet and rude instead. Of course Sal has always had a problem with her temper and he gets it full force. What happens when they become close and it leads to something more though?

Another fantastic read from Mariana Zapata. I follow the Timbers so this was right up my alley and could visualize everything. I really liked Kulti, he is a mystery and it takes awhile to figure him out. Excellent.

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Review: DILF by Jenika Snow and Sam Crescent

DILF: Dad I'd Like To F*ckDILF: Dad I’d Like To F*ck by Jenika Snow
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

David knows he should not be attracted to Lisabeth but he is. She is his daughters best friend and now his employee. He knows he should stay away but when Lisabeth lets him know she feels the same he goes about making her his.

This was a short and steamy read. I thought the handling of the couple was great and a bit of a slow burn. These two authors always keep me entertained.

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Cover Reveal: Dagger In The Sea by Cat Porter

Release Date: June 6, 2018

Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design

 

Synopsis

 

”The velvet tongue”
That’s what they hear
“The silent fixer”
That’s what they whisper
“Turo DeMarco can slice you with that smile”
It’s been known to happen
But the one truth they don’t know could get me killed.
It’s already gotten me thrown into the fire.
I’m the rising dark star of Chicago’s criminal underworld, but I’ve been warned, and I have one chance to make things right, flying halfway around the world to do it.
Then one hot AF heiress gets in my way with an unforgettable kiss and a blast of gunfire, hurling us both into the eye of a Mediterranean hurricane, tangling us in the ultimate high stake game
Our impulsive escape to a Greek island exposes cruel lies, sour truths, explosive passion…and bares our bitter souls
I was always told that actions speak louder than words,
and Adriana proved it to me.
Yet there’s one thing that speaks even louder—
Blood
Blood in my heart, blood on my hands.
Blood never lies, never plays games.
Neither do I.

Goodreads

 

 

Excerpt

 

Adriana flinched at the shrill scream of a motorcycle on the bend of the narrow waterfront road. A hand went to her heaving chest. She turned away from the road, and her troubled gaze snagged on mine. Her eyes widened, and my pulse gained speed.

Remember me, baby?

Her lips parted, she shook her head at me. A slight movement, but I caught it. Was she calling Game Over or was she warning me off? Maybe she hadn’t been some random girl bumping into me, flirting with me? Did the Alibertis know I was shadowing them and had sicced Adriana on me as a distraction?

Only one way to find out.

I strode toward her. Toward them. The traffic on the road behind her got thicker. A tourist bus, droning motor scooters with helmet-less teens, motorcycles with couples, cars.

Those blue gray eyes got huge. “Turo?” Adriana said, her voice low, stiff.

“Leaving so soon?” I asked.

Her long elegant neck straightened. A swan preparing to take flight.

Not so fast, lovely.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” I asked.

Alessio prowled over, Luca tossed his cigarette, tracking to the other side of Adriana. Alessio’s dark eyes gleamed as he gave me a curt shake of his head. That Italian “Who the fuck are you, what the fuck is this?”

“Turo DeMarco.” I stretched out my hand to Alessio.

Alessio stared at my hand, an eyebrow raised. His full lips twisted into a smirk. Luca’s face was a mask.

“Adriana! Adrianaaaa!” shouted photographers from across the street. Her gaze darted to them but she immediately turned her back on them, pressing next to Alessio, her body bunching up. She was uncomfortable.

“Adriana!” the paps shouted. Her jaw set, her face tightened. Was she famous?

“Ignore them, Adri,” muttered Alessio, a hand at her back.

Just over her shoulder, a few yards beyond us on the main road, a mud splashed motorcycle with two helmeted figures in long sleeved jackets slowed down at the curve approaching the club’s entrance, weaving in front of the line of cars parked at the end of the walkway. They moved slowly, deftly, swiftly. They weren’t paparazzi. They weren’t club-goers. Not to this club.

Needles pricked up the back of my neck.

The rider in the back raised his arm, a semi-automatic in his grip.

I lunged at Adriana.

Crack. Crack.

Twisting her into me, I rolled onto the ground with her in my arms. I covered her, our bodies pressed together into the pavement. She clung to me.

Blat tat clip clip crack.

A high pitched scream ripped the air above us. Muffled moans. A tidal wave of shouts.

I pushed up, digging my fingers in her hair, cradling the side of her pale face. Anguish, terror. “Are you all right?” my voice as tense as my grip on her. “Adriana? Are you okay?”

“Yes! Yes—” She couldn’t catch her breath, her eyes opened widened even more, flitting to the side of my face. A hand reached out, touching the side of my stinging face. Blood stained her shaking fingers.

I touched the side of my face and found torn wet skin. Must have been from falling to the sidewalk.

Alessio, Luca over us. A flurry of Greek, Italian. I pulled her up and held onto her. Her arms were cold, so cold. Alessio, the bodyguard, an ashen Gennaro hanging behind him. Luca shouting, gesturing. My head reeled, was I swaying on my feet? I grabbed Alessio by the shirt.

“That motorcycle—” I gulped in air. “Did you see that motorcycle?”

Si. I saw.” His gaze darted to the side of my face, and he winced. Alessio grabbed Adriana whose eyes stayed on me, not wanting to let go. Alessio took her and brushed past me, and I staggered.

“Turo! ” shouted Adriana, looking over Alessio’s shoulder, eyes wild. She fisted Alessio’s shirt. “Don’t leave him here! Don’t!”

A thick arm wrapped around me like a stiff belt, a hand at my chest, holding me up. Luca steered me toward a black Porsche Cayenne manned by a security guard who held the back door open. Alessio and Adriana climbed inside.

“Come.” Luca picked up his pace, leading me toward the car. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

I shoved him off me. “What are you talking about?”

He grabbed my arm again. “You are coming with us.”

 

 

Giveaway

One of Five ARC’s for Dagger in the Sea

 

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About the Author

 

Cat Porter was born and raised in New York City, but also spent a few years in Europe, Texas and the suburbs along the way. As an introverted, only child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events planner, freelance writer, and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of the day and night to help make those dreams come true. She has two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to old movies, the History Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive member of society. If you enjoy character driven epic tales, her books are for you.

 

Connect with Cat

 

Newsletter Sign Up: http://bit.ly/2qZMrn2

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Twitter: http://bit.ly/2qpepM2

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BookBub Author Page: http://bit.ly/2IJsa0R

 

Blurb Blitz: Strawberries and Strangers by Leena Clover

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Leena Clover will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Exclusive beach party takes a murderous turn.

Dumped by her cheating husband, Jenny King is trying to build a new life in the small seaside town of Pelican Cove. Locals are lining up at the Boardwalk Café for her tasty cakes and muffins. But when her aunt is accused of killing a stranger, Jenny is forced to set her apron aside and put on her sleuthing cap.

Jenny battles with the cranky local sheriff and quirky local characters to get to the truth. Aided by her new friends, she will move heaven and earth to find out who the dead stranger was and what he was doing in Pelican Cove.

If you like cozy murder mysteries with friendly small towns, scenic settings, yummy food and a touch of romance, you will like Strawberries And Strangers.

Buy now and get hooked on the brand new Pelican Cove Cozy Mystery Series. Book 2 and Book 3 are coming soon in May 2018.

Read an Excerpt:

“Shall we walk along the beach?” Chris asked the ladies.

“Not until I have a piece of Jenny’s cheesecake first,” Heather said.

She opened her mouth wide and took a big bite of the sinful dessert. It almost stuck in her throat as a piercing scream sounded far away. Heather coughed and sputtered as her food went down the wrong way.

“What was that?” Jenny asked as she patted Heather on the back.

“You girls stay here,” Chris ordered. “I’ll go have a look.”

The old biddies had also heard the scream. They surrounded Jenny and Heather, peppering them with questions.

“Hold on, Grandma,” Heather gasped, finally catching her breath. “Chris will be back soon.”

Chris came back five minutes later, looking grim. His face was white with shock.

“Bad news!” he declared, raising his hand to ward off their questions. “There’s a dead body on the beach. Eddie’s grandson almost walked into it.”

About the Author: Leena Clover grew up reading mystery books. Some of her favorite authors are Agatha Christie, M C Beaton and Donna Andrews. Now she is trying her hand at writing whodunnits, making them as nail biting as possible while keeping them cozy. Her love for food is evident in all her books. Readers can find yummy treats in the pages of her books, along with friends that last a lifetime.

Connect with Leena at her website or write to her. She looks forward to hearing from you.

https://twitter.com/leenaclover
https://facebook.com/meerapatelcozymystery
leenaclover@gmail.com
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/leena-clover
https://www.amazon.com/Leena-Clover/e/B071ZX7XS9

The book will be on sale for only $0.99.

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Promo Blitz: The Goddess’s Choice by Jamie Marchant

 

Book One of The Kronicles of Korthlundia
Epic Fantasy
Date Published: April 2017
Publisher: Bewitching Fables Press
 
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In a world where the corrupt church hides the truth about magic, the fate of the joined kingdom falls on the shoulders of two young people from opposite ends of the social hierarchy.
Crown Princess Samantha’s life begins to fall apart when she starts seeing strange colors around her potential suitors. She fears that she’s going insane–or worse that she’s defying the Goddess’s will. Robrek is a lowly farm boy with incredible magical powers. He has been biding his time waiting to get revenge on those who call him a demon.
Thrown together by chance, they must overcome their differences to fight their common enemy Duke Argblutal, who, with dark magic, is slowly poisoning the king’s mind and turning him against his own daughter. Time is running out for those chosen by the Goddess to prevent the power mad duke from usurping the throne and plunging the joined kingdoms into civil war.
Other Books in The Kronicles of Korthlundia Series:
 
The Kronicles of Korthlundia: Book II
Publisher: Bewitching Fables Press
A match made by the goddess is threatened by an Ancient Evil.
As Samantha and Robrek prepare for their marriage and coronation, they are met with opposition on all sides. Not all believe that the peasant sorcerer is worthy to be king, and the young couple must perform delicate political maneuvers to prevent the joined kingdoms from breaking apart.
As the church splits over opposition to their union, an unseen force is poised to release an ancient evil that was last defeated a thousand years ago. When the Soul Stone is broken free of its bonds, all life in its path succumbs to its power. How much will the new royal couple have to sacrifice to free the joined kingdoms of its evil?
The Kronicles of Korthlundia, Book 3
Publisher: Bewitching Fables Press
The Ghost is going to hell. Not even the goddess can forgive his sins: assassin, oath-breaker, traitor (an affair with the queen earned him that title). No one can ever learn the princess is his daughter. To keep this secret, he flees to the land that turned him from a simple stable groom into an infamous killer.
His mission now? To find evildoers and take them to hell with him. But when an impulsive act of heroism saddles him with a damsel who refuses to be distressed, her resilience forces him to questions why he really ran from his daughter.
Excerpt
 
Chapter 2
The Princess Samantha sat at her dressing table and glowered at her reflection as her maids dressed her hair. She detested balls and loathed the hundreds of suitors who flocked around her: “I have never seen a lovelier flower, Your Highness!” or “Your eyes rival the brilliance of the stars, Your Highness!” If I hear that one again, I’ll vomit. It wouldn’t be quite so bad if even one of them meant it. Sometimes she wished . . . She pushed the thought away. As the heir to the throne, she couldn’t expect romance. 
“Let us be painting your face tonight, Your Highness!” Ardra begged. Samantha’s maid was as small and slight as the princess herself and had hair so blonde it was almost white. The princess smiled at the quaintness of her speech. Although both Ardra and Malvina had been in Murtaghan for over ten years, they still hadn’t lost the peculiarities of their western Lundian accents.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Malvina chimed in. “Lady Shela’s maids said just yesterday we couldn’t possibly be knowing our business ’cause you never be wearing paint.” Malvina, more of a typical Korthlundian woman, was tall and broad and not nearly as pretty as Ardra.
“Lady Shela,” Samantha snorted in disgust. Shela wore so much paint she resembled some ghastly sea creature. Samantha knew she wasn’t pretty, but she was fond of the freckles that speckled her nose and thought the emerald green brilliance of her gown set off her white skin and auburn hair beautifully. Besides being appallingly uncomfortable, paint would absolutely spoil the effect. The princess gestured toward the huge portrait that covered one wall of her bedchamber. “Do you think Danu wore paint?”
Malvina shrugged. “The Princess Danu was said to be a powerful sorceress, Your Highness. She probably didn’t need to wear paint to attract men.”
Samantha laughed bitterly, as she thought of the army of men waiting below. “I wish not wearing paint was all it took to scare them off. They say Danu never married, and see how happy she is.”
Samantha yearned for Danu’s freedom. The long-dead princess was laughing as she galloped across the fields with her auburn hair flying out behind her in the wind. The stars on the forehead and chest of her horse shone against its gorgeous coat. Samantha loved this painting, which was just as well because it was bolted to the wall and couldn’t be removed without tearing her chambers apart. She’d decorated the rest of her bedroom to match. Tapestries of horses covered the walls. Her dressing table, armoire, and large four-poster bed had horses carved into the woodwork. A quilt, embroidered with horses and stars, was spread over the bed. The mantle over her fireplace sported figurines of horses in gold, silver, jade, crystal, and precious stones. Every new ambassador added to her collection.
 “Your Highness, you’ll be having to marry one of them eventually,” Ardra persisted. “The king won’t be letting you hold out forever. You are seventeen, after all. Your mother was only thirteen when she married the king.”
“You needn’t remind me, Ardra.” Samantha picked up her silver-backed brush from the dressing table, a gift from the Neasarian ambassador that was inlaid with an amber Horsetad; diamonds marked the stars at its forehead and chest. She fingered it lovingly. “Do you think it’s true Danu rode a Horsetad?”
“So the bards sing of her,” Ardra said.
Malvina made an impatient noise in her throat. “And they also be singing she turned suitors into toads with her kiss! You don’t really believe such nonsense, do you, Your Highness? Nobody can tame a Horsetad.”
“No, I suppose not,” the princess sighed wistfully, then smiled at the toads that hopped around the feet of Danu’s horse. How I wish my kiss could do that!
Finally, her maids were finished weaving the jewels through her hair and had attached the simple gold circlet of the heir. Samantha tried to take a deep breath, but was prevented by the tightness of her corset. “That’s it. This is the last time I wear a corset. Have my dresses altered to fit without one. And don’t lecture me about fashion. I’d rather be able to breathe.”
Before her maids could protest that without a corset she was almost as flat as a boy, she left the room. She passed through her reception room, which was decorated in a similar style to her bedroom and contained more ambassadorial gifts. Pausing in front of her favorite tapestry—a white mare at the edge of the forest, helping her newborn foal stand, she wished she were heading for the stables instead of the ballroom. She forced her face into a court smile and left her chambers.
Her two bodyguards bowed and fell in behind her. The princess couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been followed by two heavily armed men. She’d grown so used to them she often forgot they were there.
A full crowd tonight, of course. While the possibility of wearing a crown still exists, not even a deadly plague would keep the hordes away.
Behind the dais at the top of the ballroom was the king’s standard—a brilliant yellow sun on a field of red. Next to it was a smaller standard in her own colors—the head of a white horse on a field of emerald green. The walls were lined with the standards of all the noble houses of Korthlundia; most sported images of ferocious beasts or weapons of war. If I’m supposed to be maintaining the peace, why do I have to dance in a room that celebrates war? Her father claimed they couldn’t redecorate the ballroom without the risk of offending one or more of the Korthlundian noble houses. But Samantha doubted she’d like balls any better no matter how the room was decorated.
As she moved through the crowd, the courtiers parted and bowed. All the men attempted to catch her eye, and the smiles of the women failed to mask their jealousy.
As she mounted the dais where her father and members of the royal council awaited, King Solar beamed at her. His long white hair and beard flowed around his head, giving him the appearance of the wise old man from the bards’ tales. She bowed to him, and he quickly extended his hand, raised her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Despite his insistence that she marry, her father did love her. The princess knew she should consider herself lucky. Most royal children had no choice in a spouse, but her father had left her free to choose among the men of appropriate rank. But as she looked over the sea of hungry male eyes, the thought of marrying any of them nauseated her. If only marrying them didn’t mean I had to bed them.
Beside the king, Uncle Caedmon smiled at her. Caedmon, Duke of Tuath and Boirche, was her mother’s uncle and had been her father’s chancellor since she was two years old. He had very bushy eyebrows that gave the impression he was always looking down on people. But he was one of the few members of her father’s council she liked, and he was the only one who exhibited no designs on the throne. His only son had married before she was born.
Immediately after the king announced the opening of the ball, Argblutal, the Duke of Handgriff, stepped forward to claim the first dance. No one else ever dared ask her until the duke had had his turn. Like every Korthlundian man, Argblutal was tall, broad-shouldered, and blue-eyed. Many of the girls found him handsome, but she wasn’t sure why. He was nearly twice her age. He was dressed in a surcoat of black leather with long black velvet sleeves, trimmed in gold and crimson braiding. He had several thick gold chains around his neck. From the largest of these hung a pendant of a panther, the symbol of his house. In defiance of court fashion, he wore his blond beard and hair cropped short. He and Duke Sheen were her closest living relatives on her father’s side, not that they were very close—third cousins or something. Both had thought to inherit the throne until her birth gave Solar a direct heir.
Argblutal bowed. “May I have the first dance, Your Highness?”
“I’d be honored, Your Grace.” Father would throw a fit if I refused. She smiled her fakest smile and accepted his hand.
As the dance began, the duke bowed low over her hand, sliming it with a kiss. “Your Highness, you are the brightest star in a shining crowd tonight.” It’s only the first dance, and I get the star thing already. Is there some book they all read? Fifty-two Compliments for Ladies. The duke danced stiffly, as if he disapproved of frivolity. “Your dress, it’s Saloynan silk, is it not, Your Highness?”
“No, it’s Neasarian. I find the weave so much finer. Don’t you?” The silk did feel delightful against her skin, but she found talk of fashion and fabric tedious. She’d never understood the other girls’ obsession with it, just as she never understood why they giggled so much. 
“So I have heard, Your Highness, but it’s very difficult to come by. The Neasarians are more interested in trading spices than silk.”
This was true, but equally boring, so she smiled and made some inane comment. When the dance finally ended, Argblutal slimed her hand again. “Perhaps we can share another dance before the evening’s end, Your Highness.” Surreptitiously wiping her hand on her gown, Samantha merely smiled. Only if all seven of the hells freeze over.
The next suitor in line was Lord Devyn, Duke Sheen’s oldest son. Devyn was only a couple of years older than the princess, but he looked younger. His chin was covered with only the lightest and most delicate of fuzz. The princess thought he’d look better if he shaved. But, of course, he couldn’t do that; only the clergy shaved. “May I . . . may I have this dance, Y-y-your Highness?”
As the dance began, Lord Devyn turned a dozen shades of red. “Y-y-your Highness looks just like a-a-a flower tonight.” It was obvious he didn’t want to dance any more than she did, but Duke Sheen was bent on controlling Korthlundia through his son. She’d heard the duke had threatened Devyn with the lash to force him to court her. Devyn was only comfortable among his paints and canvases. Besides, he was in love with Count Morfran’s daughter, Lady Aislinn. She wished just once some man would look at her the way she’d seen Devyn look at Aislinn.
Samantha noticed blue under his fingernails. “And how is your latest creation coming? Working in blues, I see.”
Devyn gaped. “I’m doing a seascape, Your Highness, but how could you know?” When she glanced at his fingers, he curled his fingernails into his fists. “Your Highness, how could I have been so neglectful? My father will kill me.” Devyn was a nice boy, but she wished his father would leave him to his art and his lover.
After Devyn, the princess worked her way through her father’s council—Count Kayne, Duke Torin, Count Weylin, Baron Arawn’s son, Baron Teague, and a host of other nobles of varying degrees of importance. Nola, Count of Meillid, looked on wistfully. The count was nearly as round as he was tall, and it was rumored he’d do away with his wife if he thought he stood a chance of capturing the princess’s hand. He had a five-year-old son, and Samantha thought it a wonder Nola didn’t send the toddler to court her.
After the majority of the king’s council had had their turn, ambassadors and foreign envoys began to present themselves. She knew each one was eager to negotiate the most important treaty between their two countries—one that would give them power over the Korthlundian throne. The princess enjoyed the variety of their appearance, but at heart, they seemed little different than the Korthlundian nobles. The vast majority were nearly twice her age, and the talk of stars and flowers sounded little different in a Mintarian accent than in a Korthlundian one. However, the princess smiled when Phomello, the son of the Neasarian ambassador, took her hand. As with all Neasarians, everything from his hair to his skin to his eyes was a deep rich ebony. It was he who’d given her the silver brush and the silk for her gown, and she’d seen him several times in the stables. He seemed to share her love of horses, but the best thing about him was that he could barely speak Korthlundian, so he couldn’t bombard her with mindless chatter.
* * *
The king went to bed at midnight, but Samantha was forced to stay and dance with suitor after suitor.
“Might I dance with the stars of heaven tonight?” Count Pandaran, the only member of her father’s council with whom she hadn’t yet danced, asked. He always danced with her late in the balls; maybe he felt he was saving the best for last. He wore a surcoat of bright turquoise, edged with yards and yards of delicate lace. His hair and beard hung in long, blond ringlets. When the princess took his hand, she cringed at the smoothness of his palms. The damned fool doesn’t even know how to wield a sword. The hands of most of the men at court were like hers—rough and calloused from weapons training. Knowing she would rule after him, her father had always treated her more like a son than a daughter. Despite what other members of the court might think of it, he had insisted she receive weapons training since she was strong enough to hold a sword.
As they whirled around the ballroom floor, a soft glow of rotten orange erupted around Pandaran. A steaming heat seeped from the orange and poured over her, coating her body with a slime so thick a dozen baths wouldn’t cleanse her. The princess nearly cried out in despair. Not the colors again! I thought I’d gotten rid of them! It had been several months since she’d spent all night kneeling at the altar in the palace chapel, praying for the goddess’s help. She’d felt the goddess’s peace and thought the terrifying colors gone forever. But again she’d been wrong. When she’d first seen the colors, she’d gone in disguise to the Temple of the Mother’s Love. It was the only time she’d ever given her bodyguards the slip. She’d told a priest about the colors. He’d insisted she was under the influences of the denizens of darkness and that her soul was in great peril and performed an exorcism. It hadn’t worked. Nothing had. Maybe it’s not demons; maybe I’m insane.
The princess was so upset after her dance that she fled the room without giving an explanation. She ignored the questions from her bodyguards and her maids, but she was shaking by the time Ardra and Malvina had finished undressing her and taking down her hair. When she was finally alone, she curled up into a ball on her bed. The colors had to mean something, but after the exorcism had failed, she’d never dared tell anyone else about them. Tonight she again prayed to the goddess for help. At last, she fell into a troubled sleep, her dreams full of people who glowed as brightly as the jeweled horses on her mantelpiece.
About the Author

Jamie Marchant began writing stories about the man from Mars when she was six, and she never remembers wanting to be anything other than a writer. Everyone told her she needed a backup plan, so she pursued a Ph.D. in American literature, which she received in 1998. She started teaching writing and literature at Auburn University. One day in the midst of writing a piece of literary criticism, she realized she’d put her true passion on the backburner and neglected her muse. The literary article went in the trash, and she began the book that was to become The Goddess’s Choice, which was published in April 2012. She claims she writes about the fantastic . . . and the tortured soul. Her poor characters have hard lives. She lives in Auburn, Alabama, with her husband and four cats, which (or so she’s been told) officially makes her a cat lady. She still teaches writing and literature at Auburn University. She is the mother of a grown son.
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Review: Hot Daddy by Lila Monroe

Hot Daddy (Billionaire Bachelors, #2)Hot Daddy by Lila Monroe
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Jules just lost her job, she shouldn’t be surprised she did after all she maimed the practices son. Now she is trying to find income to live on since being left with a sort of reputation as a troublemaker with the other firms. When she gets asked to pretend to be the fiancee to a CEO who is trying to keep the children that he is a godparent for she agrees. The problem is he is the man she had a wicked time with in Vegas years ago. Memories still remain and when pretend becomes something more can it really work?

This was fun, I thought the chemistry worked between the two. I liked the kids a lot and thought that Cal was unbelievably warm where they were concerned. Great read.

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Book Blitz: Don’t Cheat Me by Jackie May

Don’t Cheat Me
Jackie May
(Nora Jacobs #2)
Publication date: May 21st 2018
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

One month after Nora’s violent induction to the dangerous supernatural side of Detroit, she’s finally settling into her new life as the underworld’s token human. All she wants to do is mind her own business, enjoy her new friends, and stay safe. But that’s easier said than done when she’s such an enigma to everyone around her.

Thanks to her unique psychic abilities, she’s garnered a reputation for being mysterious and powerful. When the alpha of a local werewolf pack asks her to help him figure out who is stealing from him, she can’t say no, even though getting involved in pack business could have deadly repercussions.

While tangled up in a heap of werewolf troubles, Nora can’t quite shake her old vampire problem, either. Henry is practically stalking her, Parker is breaking down the walls around her heart, and Nora’s blatant fear of the blood-sucking monsters is a delicious temptation for the natural predators.

Nora’s succubus friend, Cecile, believes throwing her a “coming out” party into underworld society is the best way to solve all of her problems, but Nora disagrees. If the vampires and werewolves don’t kill her, Cecile’s party planning definitely will.

This is book 2 in the Nora Jacobs series and should be read after book 1. It is a slow burn reverse harem series.

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EXCERPT:

“Hey, sexy, how about you bring a shot of Angelfire and that pretty little ass over here.”

I pour a shot of the fey alcohol and bring it to the tactless man with a forced smile. As I take the cash he lays out on the counter, he grabs my arm and pulls me close. “You know, I’ve never had a human before—they’re not usually worth my time—but I’d make an exception for you.”

I yank my arm back. “Not interested, thanks.”

I start to walk away, so he quickly downs his shot and asks for another. “What’s the matter? Think you’re too good to bed an underworlder?”

I smirk as I fill his shot glass with another round of the light blue liquid. “Nope. Just too good for cocky assholes.”

I don’t have time to regret running my mouth off before the man has me by the throat and is pulling me across the counter to his seething face. “I’ll show you manners, human. You’re nothing but an insect in my world. A plaything. And now you’ll be mine. I’ll have you begging for death for all eternity.”

His thoughts are scarier than his words. He plans to follow through on his threat. He knows many fey in the winter court that keep human pets. He’s never seen the appeal, but now he wants nothing more than to humiliate me and make me suffer. And maybe he’ll eat me once he’s bored of the torture.

His grip is so strong I can’t breathe, but before I start to see spots in my vision, Wulf and Nick rip me apart from the psychotic winter faerie. Wulf has me behind him, using his body to physically shield me, while Nick has the faerie laid out on the bar by his throat. The man is wailing in pain, and it takes me a moment to figure out it’s because Nick’s buried a dagger in the man’s shoulder, hilt deep. Judging from the screams of pain, the dagger is made of iron, which is poisonous to faeries. “What was that about begging for death for all eternity?” Nick asks. “Is that how you like to play?”

“But she’s human,” the faerie cries, as if that justifies his actions.

Wulf growls at this, and his whole body begins to shake. I place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. I’ve heard that werewolves like physical touch, and a gesture to tell him I’m all right should help with his protective instincts. I’ve never seen a werewolf shift, and I don’t really want to see one now while he’s pissed and I’m trapped behind a bar with him. I want to say something soothing, but honestly, I’m too scared to get any words out. That faerie has a dark, twisted mind.

“She is an employee of this club and Terrance’s only clan,” Nick says.

The fey’s eyes pop wide open. “She’s his clan?”

“His first.” Nick nods. “And he’s especially fond of her. So I would advise you to leave her alone. In fact, I bet you’re a dead man walking once Terrance figures out you’re the asshole who put the bruises around her neck.”

Nick’s eyes do that thing they do when he gets really pissed. The pupils turn into vertical slits. It’s freaky looking. He also emits some kind of power. I can’t really explain it. I don’t know what kind of underworlder Nick is. It’s rude to ask, and he’s never offered the information up. But it’s something totally badass that scares even the nastiest underworlders. Mr. Creepy Fey Man is squirming under his grip, looking like he’s about to piss himself. “I’m sorry,” he whines. “I didn’t know who she was. I’ll leave. Just let me up before Terrance comes.”

“Maybe we should leave him pinned to the bar for a while,” Wulf says, making the fey’s eyes go wide again. “That’ll send the message that Nora is off limits, which might appease Terrance.”

I can’t help the way my mouth falls open. “You’re not serious.”

Wulf gives me a grim look. “This man disrespected Terrance’s staff. That won’t go unpunished—house rules.”

“Terrance will kill him for touching you, unless we punish him first,” Nick adds, backing up Wulf’s claims.

They’re not kidding. They plan to keep this guy staked to the counter the way he is. The underworld runs on a different set of rules. It’s brutal and dangerous. If I want to survive it, I need to learn to stomach the darker side of it and trust those who have my well-being at heart.

“Okay,” I say, since both Wulf and Nick seem to be waiting for my approval. It’s not that hard to agree, considering how evil the man’s thoughts were. “Let’s leave him for a while.”

“Put a sign on him so everyone knows,” Nick says.

Wulf writes a note on a pad that says I touched the human girl. He puts it on the faerie’s chest. “Hold this, and don’t drop it.”

The man grips the message and holds it against his chest where everyone who gets close can read it. But he’s squirming, swearing, sweating, and hollering about the pain. I have no doubt it hurts. Nick has no sympathy for him. “Shut your mouth,” he says, touching the dagger’s hilt and twisting it ever so slightly, causing the faerie to scream in real agony. “This is a tender mercy. Stop whining, or I’ll put this dagger through your heart to shut you up.”

I’m not surprised when the faerie shuts his mouth and keeps his discomfort to mild whimpers from then on. If Nick had looked at me the same way he looked at that guy just now, I’d find a way to forget about the pain, too.

 

Author Bio:

Jackie May is a pseudonym for a husband and wife writing team. Josh and Kelly live in Phoenix, Arizona with their four children and their cat, Mr. Darcy. Jackie May is their only daughter. (And she keeps asking for her cut of the profits since we’re using her name.)

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Review: Black Heart by R.L. Mathewson

Black Heart (Cursed Hearts, #1)Black Heart by R.L. Mathewson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

There is only one person who Tristan wants and that is Marty. However despite his feelings he knows he needs to stay away. He has a reputation of being difficult and for some reason people think he has an anger management issue, no clue why that is. Tristan finds it hard to resist Marty though when they are paired together to work. Tristan decides to push her away but when he does will he be able to live with the consequences?

This has a ghostly aspect to the story but I loved it. Shayne is a hoot and how the rest of the story unfolds is mind blowing. Story had me laughing out loud repeatedly and I wanted more as it came to an end. Looking forward to next book.

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Promo Blitz: The Sterling University Series by Rebecca Heflin

 

Romance
Date Published: November 2017
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Three novellas. Three love stories. It isn’t all academic when it comes to love.
Romancing Dr. Love, Book One
She says it’s all about the chemistry. He says it’s all about the romance. Samantha Love has based her entire academic career on the hypothesis that love is simply a chemical reaction. Ethan Quinn thinks she’s taken love and all its mysteries and reduced it to something as romantic as a cholesterol test, and he sets out to prove her theory wrong. Is it chemistry or romance? Or a little of both?
Winning Dr. Wentworth, Book Two
She’s benched her heart. His is on injured reserve. Burned-out and broken-hearted math professor Shelby Wentworth returns to her hometown determined to escape the disgrace of a nasty divorce, shake off the taint of her ruined career, and start over, sans romance, but an unexpected reunion with Nash Taylor, former star quarterback and high school crush, promises to derail her plans. Will Shelby let the past dictate the future, or will Nash win her heart?
 
Educating Dr. Mayfield, Book Three
He has plenty to learn about love. She’s just the woman who can teach him. Creative writing professor Delaney Driscoll finds her plan to establish a new degree program blocked when Devon Mayfield, the uptight new college dean opposes her request. While she educates him on the benefits of the curriculum, can she make him forget the pain of his past and teach him that love is more than a just four-letter word?
 
 
 
Excerpt
Green was not her best color.
Seated at a table in Sterling’s one and only pub, Delaney Driscoll stared glumly across the table at her two best friends as they chattered about their upcoming weddings like two teenagers hopped-up on one-too-many energy drinks.
McGinty’s Pub often played host to life’s happiest and saddest events. It was where birthdays were toasted, engagements were announced, Sterling Bobcats wins were celebrated, and lives were remembered. It was only fitting that weddings should be planned there too.
Taking a swipe at the salt rimming her margarita, she stuck her finger in her mouth with a pout. She really needed to get over herself. Of course, she was ecstatic that her two best friends had found the loves of their lives. But, come on. Was it too much to ask that she find hers too?
“So, what do you think? Delaney? Earth to Delaney!” Sam snapped her fingers in front of her friend’s face.
“Where were you?” Shelby asked, with a quizzical look.
“Oh. Sorry.” She sighed then stuffed a fried pickle in her mouth.
Sam and Shelby exchanged glances.
“No, we’re sorry. All this talk about our weddings must be boring you to tears,” Sam said, a soft, understanding smile on her could’ve-been-a-model face.
Dr. Samantha Love, a psychology professor in the same college as Shelby and Delaney, had hit the news last year with a discovery the press called ‘the love test’—a blood test that determined a couple’s compatibility. One of the largest online dating services in the U.S. now offered the test as part of their premium package. And said ‘love test’ had found Sam’s match in one Ethan Quinn, hunky literature professor and dean of their college. Now their wedding was just two months away—in April.
A whiz kid at statistics, Dr. Shelby Wentworth was a mathematics professor, first at Stanford, and then for a short stint at Sterling, before she became the Director of Sports Analytics for Sterling’s athletics department. She and Sterling’s head football coach, Nash Taylor, got engaged—on the football field, no less—after Sterling won its first NCAA Division I Football Bowl Subdivision Championship, thanks in part to Shelby’s mad number-crunching skills. It was one of the most romantic proposals she and probably a million football fans had ever seen, thanks to an eagle-eyed cameraman who captured the moment, much to Nash and Shelby’s chagrin.
Their wedding was coming up in June.
To make matters worse in the single department, Shelby, who had been Delaney’s neighbor, moved out to Nash’s farmhouse.
About the Author

Rebecca Heflin is an award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction since she was fifteen and her older sister snuck a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss’ Shanna to her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy with her day-job at a large state university.
Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.
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