Tuesday, September 18, 2018

BOOK BLITZ: Daddy's Demands {A Dirty Daddy Dom Anthology} #GIVEAWAY


Daddy’s Demands: A Dirty Daddy Dom Anthology
Publication date: September 18th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance
These daddies don’t ask for obedience. They demand it.
Daddy’s Demands is a collection of decadently dirty daddy dom romances from some of the hottest authors in the genre. This deliciously naughty box set includes twenty-five brand-new, stand-alone novellas featuring steaming hot, irresistibly sexy adventures with the baddest daddies imaginable. Good girls be warned: your obedience will be demanded on September 18th.
Featured authors: Madison Faye, Renee Rose, Loki Renard, Maggie Ryan, Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley, Lee Savino, J.L. Beck, Jane Henry, Isabella Laase, Kelly Dawson, Sara Fields, Kara Kelley, Measha Stone, Amelia Smarts, Mary Wehr, Maddie Taylor, Meredith O’Reilly, Morganna Williams, Katherine Deane, Alexis Alvarez, Shelly Douglas, Sassa Daniels, Marlee Wray, and Rory Reynolds

Publisher’s Note: The stories featured in this collection all contain hot, dirty sex, sometimes involving ménage or reverse harem themes. Some include spankings, intense and humiliating punishments, and strong D/s themes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this box set.


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BOOK BLITZ: Unexpected Hostage by Layla Stone #GIVEAWAY


Unexpected Hostage
Layla Stone
(Unexpected, #1)
Publication date: September 9th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Everyone says he’s dangerous.
Everyone is wrong.
My new cabin-mate is a telepath and the whole ship’s scared of him. I was too, for about three seconds. He’s quiet, but once I get him talking he’s the most fascinating man I’ve ever known. He shouldn’t be in that cage. He didn’t do anything wrong. But good thing he is, because I would love to snuggle down for a long night with a body like his.
Everyone thinks they’re safe.
Everyone is wrong.
My race is known for being peaceful, and I was too…until I was electrocuted, kidnapped, sold, and then put in a cage. I’ll get out of here soon, but while I plot my escape, I’ll enjoy my cabin-mate’s attention. She thinks she has figured me out. She’s not even close.
The ship is being attacked, a perfect diversion. There is only one problem…I want to take my cabin-mate with me.
Note to readers: This is a full length Sci-fi Romance Novel with action, adventure, adult humor and a steamy romance. Mature readers only.

 


Author Bio:
Layla Stone is an unapologetic romance junkie. As a self proclaimed Modern-Day Casanova of fictional men, she spins stories to create unique lovers with the plethora of races she's dreamed up.
Southern California is where she lives with her geeky husband and two rambunctious children.


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Monday, September 17, 2018

BOOK BLITZ: Three Mages and a Margarita by Annette Marie #GIVEAWAY


Three Mages and a Margarita
Annette Marie
(The Guild Codex: Spellbound #1)
Publication date: September 14th 2018
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy
Broke, almost homeless, and recently fired. Those are my official reasons for answering a wanted ad for a skeevy-looking bartender gig.
It went downhill the moment they asked me to do a trial shift instead of an interview—to see if I’d mesh with their “special” clientele. I think that part went great. Their customers were complete dickheads, and I was an asshole right back. That’s the definition of fitting in, right?
I expected to get thrown out on my ass. Instead, they…offered me the job?
It turns out this place isn’t a bar. It’s aguild. And the three cocky guys I drenched with a margarita during my trial? Yeah, they were mages. Either I’m exactly the kind of takes-no-shit bartender this guild needs, or there’s a good reason no one else wants to work here.
So what’s a broke girl to do? Take the job, of course—with a pay raise.

Note: The three mages are definitely sexy, but this series isn’t a reverse harem. It’s 100% fun, sassy, fast-paced urban fantasy.
EXCERPT:
When I gazed vacantly at her, Clara visibly paled. “Tori, what’s your class?” “My class?” She pressed her hands to the bar top, eyes wide. “Your class, what is it?” “You mean at the community college? I’m taking—”
“No, your mythic class!” She shoved my card under my nose, even more frantic. “Why doesn’t your license have a mythic identification number? You’re registered, aren’t you?”
“Registered for what? Clara, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Oh my god.” Panic flashed in her eyes. “I don’t believe it. You’re human.”
I blinked again. Squinted. Rubbed one ear like I might have misheard. “Beg your pardon?”
Clara dropped my ID on the bar and hid her face behind her hands. “Darius is going to kill me. Why didn’t I check your ID last night? I’m an idiot.”
“Clara,” I said, alarmed and confused in equal measure. “I swear it’s a real ID. I’m twenty-one, old enough to bartend, and—”
“That’s not the problem,” she moaned. “How did you even find out about this place? I never should have—but you were perfect. You weren’t scared of anyone—not even Aaron! I thought you were some badass mythic who wanted to bartend, but you—”
“Get over yourself, Aaron.” Kai’s angry voice rose over Clara’s. “We’re not doing this your way—not again. Your plans always end in fireballs and explosions.”
Fireballs? Explosions? I glanced at them as Aaron snapped, “What’s wrong with that?” “Tori.” Clara’s panicked tone drew my attention back to her as Kai and Aaron continued to argue. “Last
night, did you see anything?”
“Huh?”
“Did you see anything … unusual?”
“Did I see anything unusual?” I repeated blankly. “Like what?”
“Say that again,” Aaron shouted furiously, “and I’ll toast your pale ass to a healthy crisp!”
His hand shot into the air—and fire burst from his fingers. The red flames danced across his skin, sparks raining down on the table. Curling his hand into a fist, he cocked his arm back, aiming for Kai.
“Aaron!” Clara shrieked. “Put your fire away!” He froze in mid-motion, his fist still blazing. “Clara? What’s wrong?”
“Put it out!” she yelled, her voice high with panic. “Now!”
He flicked his fingers open and the flames vanished. “Jeez, don’t get your panties in a twist. I wasn’t actually going to roast him.”
“Just—just shut up for once in your life, Aaron!” Clara pressed her hands to her head like she was trying to squeeze her brain. “This is already bad enough.”
“What’s bad?” He pushed back from the table and strode over, Kai and Ezra on his heels. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t move, my eyes fixed on his hand—his hand that had been engulfed in flames. Did that count as unusual?
“I screwed up,” Clara groaned, covering her face again like she couldn’t stand to see me. “I didn’t check her ID yesterday.”
Aaron slid my driver’s license off the bar top and read it. “Victoria Dawson? Your name is Victoria?” I shook off my shock to scowl at his sniggering tone. Kai plucked the card out of Aaron’s hand. “There’s no MID number.” “Is it a fake ID?” Aaron asked with amusement. “Did you hire a rogue, Clara?”
“Worse,” Clara whispered. “She’s human.”
The three guys stared at me, and I stared back without the slightest idea what the hell anyone was talking about. But more important than the incomprehensible conversation was the fact Aaron’s hand had been on fire, and I couldn’t figure out how it could possibly have been a trick.
“No way,” Aaron finally said. “What’s your class, Tori?” I pointed at his hand. “Was that real fire?” “Oh, shit,” Kai muttered.


Author Bio:
Annette Marie is the author of Amazon best-selling YA urban fantasy series Steel & Stone, its prequel trilogy Spell Weaver, and romantic fantasy trilogy Red Winter. Her first love is fantasy, but fast-paced adventures and tantalizing forbidden romances are her guilty pleasures. She lives in the frozen winter wasteland of Alberta, Canada (okay, it's not quite that bad) with her husband and their furry minion of darkness—sorry, cat—Caesar. When not writing, she can be found elbow-deep in one art project or another while blissfully ignoring all adult responsibilities.


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Friday, September 14, 2018

COVER REVEAL: Subzero by Cambria Hebert


Subzero
Cambria Hebert
(BearPaw Resort, #4)
Publication date: October 19th 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense, Thriller
My best friend, Liam Mattison, was born with snow in his veins.
Me? Ice.
Maybe that’s why my eyes are this color. Maybe it’s because I was born in Caribou, where there’s more snow than sun.
I always knew I had a chill within me, but after my time with the army, that chill froze over. I saw and did things most people couldn’t fathom. I made contacts with people who were more beast than man.
I came home altered, and there was no going back.
Except I did. It had to be done, and I didn’t regret it.
But now I’m thrust back into a world where people had forgotten my name. Back into a past I walked away from.
Memories of all the things I’ve done, of the people I’ve left behind, are floating to the surface.
The late-night summons wasn’t really unexpected.
The request was.
Saying no is impossible when you’re the only man equipped for the job. Saying no is difficult when what you really want to say is yes.
So here I am, past and present colliding with a woman I intentionally left behind. A woman who needs me to keep her alive.
I made a promise, and I will keep it.
Even if I die doing it. Even if it means the ice inside me goes subzero.



Author Bio:
Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.
Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).
Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.
Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

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BOOK BLITZ: Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies by Addison Moore #GIVEAWAY


Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies
Addison Moore
Publication date: September 13th 2018
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance
A HILARIOUS cozy mystery from the New York Times bestselling author Addison Moore
My name is Lottie Lemon and I see dead people.Okay, so I rarely see dead people, mostly I see creatures of the dearly departed variety, aka dead pets. And for some reason those sweet, fluffy albeit paranormal cuties always seem to act as a not-so-great harbinger of deadly things to come for their previous owner. So when I saw that sweet orange tabby twirling around my landlord’s ankles, I figured Merilee was in for trouble. Personally, I was hoping for a skinned knee—what I got was a top spot in an open homicide investigation. Throw in a hot judge and an ornery detective that oozes testosterone and that pretty much sums up my life right about now. Have I mentioned how cute that detective is?
Lottie Lemon has a bakery to tend to, a budding romance with perhaps one too many suitors and she has the supernatural ability to see dead pets—which are always harbingers for ominous things to come. Throw in the occasional ghost of the human variety, a string of murders and her insatiable thirst for justice and you’ll have more chaos than you know what to do with.
Living in the small town of Honey Hollow can be murder.

From the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author, Addison Moore—Cosmopolitan Magazine calls Addison’s books, “…easy, frothy fun!”
EXCERPT:
I see dead people.
Okay, so I don’t see dead people—at least not on the regular—I see dead pets. Yes, pets. At first, I had no idea what these hologram-like beasts were up to until after an unfortunate run of something akin to trial and error that I concluded each dead pet was some sort of a harbinger for its previous owner, a very, very bad omen if you will. Sometimes I see them floating around willy-nilly in a crowd and it’s hard to decipher exactly who the bad luck is coming for. But on occasion, I see them attached firmly to the side of whoever the incoming disaster is set to strike. I’m not sure why this is my lot in life. In fact, my lot in life hasn’t been so stellar in general. My birth mother thought it was a brilliant idea to leave me on the floor of a firehouse, and that’s where a brave and thankfully curious firefighter spotted me, waddled up and squirming. It just so happens that I was adopted by that sweet man, Joseph Lemon, and his wife, Miranda, and gifted a book-loving big sister, Lainey, currently Honey Hollow’s lead librarian, as well as a feisty and shenanigan-prone younger sister, Meg, who is also known as Madge the Badge on the Las Vegas female wrestling circuit. And being that Las Vegas and all of its glittery wrestling venues are a good distance from Honey Hollow, Vermont, we don’t see her very often.
But back to that strange gift of mine, or curse as it more often than not feels like—I have zero clue where it came from or why, or even the major significance of it. A part of me has always believed that something alarmingly supernatural occurred around the time of my birth, and that’s exactly why my birth mama decided she so desperately needed to offload a seven-pound chunk of bad luck.
The very first time I put the furry-dearly-departed and outright chaos together was when I was seven and I saw the flicker of a barely-there turtle swimming next to Otis Fisher’s ear. Later that day, Otis fell from a tree and broke his arm. At the time, I wasn’t too sorry about it either. That boy had a mad hankering for pulling on my pigtails. And as fate would have it, the boy who lived to tease me, one day admitted to having a mad crush on yours truly. And post that amorous admission we dated on and off for about three years. If I thought that boy was annoying in elementary school, he outdid himself in high school. In fact, Otis—or Bear as he’s affectionately known around these parts for having once chased off a black bear before it could invade and devour an entire herd of innocent tourists who were on a leaf peeping tour—is one of the reasons I left Honey Hollow to begin. No sooner did my high school diploma cool off than I hightailed it to New York—Columbia University to be exact—where I’ve had the displeasure to ogle other people’s dead pets.
I’m quick to push what I’ve affectionately dubbed the New York Disaster out of my mind as I take a step outside of my apartment. It’s a duplex, actually, and my landlords, the Simonson sisters, live upstairs. They’re the primary reason I’m headed out on this unforgivably crisp September morning wearing my Sunday best, even though it’s smack in the middle of the week, Wednesday. Usually, I’d be happily snug in my favorite jeans, sporting my comfiest sweatshirt with my hair in a ponytail, and on my way to the Honey Pot Diner where I’m currently employed as the chief baker, not that there’s anyone baking underneath me but, hey, I like the title. Instead, I’m stuffed in a pencil skirt, two sizes too small, and a blouse that looks as if I swiped it off a mannequin at Goodwill, partially because I did. Okay, so I don’t own many Sunday clothes per se, but only because the local church is all about casual attire. They’re far more concerned with keeping your soul free from the flames than they are about your accruements, but I digress. I’m not headed to work or any holy house in the great state of Vermont. I’m headed to court—small claims court to be exact—all the way over in Ashford County.
Just as I’m about to head to my beat-up old hatchback, I spot both the aforementioned Simonson sisters at the foot of the driveway squabbling amongst themselves about who knows what—most likely me. It is me they’re hauling to court after all, and over something completely ridiculous.
It just so happens that last summer at the county fair my blueberry buckle pie won the coveted blue ribbon in its division, and it seemed as if all of Ashford County were thrilled for me, at least all of the townsfolk here in Honey Hollow. But the Simonson sisters were decidedly not enthused in the least. Sometime between the taste test and the judging, someone edited my entry to read Simple Simonson Pie and crossed out the all-important part about the blueberry buckle. Regretfully, a riot of laughter ensued, mostly from the fine, and, might I add, intuitive folk here in Honey Hollow, but I swear on all that is holy that good time only lasted about three thrilling minutes before I made the correction. Although, to hear Mora Anne and Merilee tell it, the aftermath not only bruised their egos and reputation but managed to cause a retail apocalypse down at the shop they own and run. It turns out, The Busy Bee Craft Shop was short on patrons and dollar bills alike and had a difficult time paying its rent last month, so the only logical solution they could come up with was to sue me for every last red cent.
Both sisters are dressed head to toe in long velvet coats with ruffled shirts peeking out from underneath like a couple of throwbacks from some long-forgotten steampunk era. It’s eerie the way they choose to dress alike each and every day despite the fact they’ve been on the planet for twenty-six long years—and twenty-seven respectively. I know this because I happen to be the exact same age as Merilee. We’ve all grown up together, but the way they treat me you’d think they were my bitter and scorned elders.
Merilee snarls as if she were rabid. “Well, look who’s here? If it isn’t Honey Hollow’s favorite jester who will soon be performing live in court.” Those narrow slits she calls eyes light up like cauldrons. The sisters have always held a witchy appeal to me, what with their long, dark, stringy hair and bony, long fingers. The fact they look as if they suck on lemons day and night doesn’t exactly help their plight. “Are you ready to have your bank account turned inside out?”
I scoff at the thought. If they think this is the day they hit a financial jackpot, they’d better think again. Working shifts at the Honey Pot Diner doesn’t afford me much of a bank account. The only thing in my savings at the moment is enough to cover my rent and Pancake’s Fancy Beast cat food. I’ve had Pancake now for over a year, and he officially qualifies as the greatest love of my life.
I glance over to the living room window where he’s currently monitoring the situation while licking his paw. Pancake is a butter yellow Himalayan with a rusty-tipped tail and dart of a line running between his eyes. He is a precious little angel now that he’s no longer using my leather ottoman as a scratching post and chewing down all the cables and cords he could get his hungry little paws on. The entire apartment has been cat-proofed, and Pancake hasn’t forgiven me yet.
An icy breeze picks up and the row of liquid ambers and maples that lines the street shed the first smattering of red and gold fall leaves. I steal a moment to take in the glory of nature on full display around the two wicked witches determined to make my life a living hell. Our little corner of Vermont has a habit of turning into a golden and ruby wonderland this time of year, so much so that the leaf peeping keeps the tourists coming in strong right up until winter.
Speaking of tourist traps, the Honey Hollow Apple Festival is coming up later this month, and I’ve been asked to supply the pies for the occasion. After my shift was over at the Honey Pot last night, I baked two dozen personal-sized caramel apple pies—cutie pies as I like to call them—and I need to deliver them straight to the orchard this afternoon because the owners requested a sample for their employees. My guess is they want to be sure my baking skills are up to snuff before they live to regret the decision come the day of the festival. But I guarantee they’ll far from regret it. In fact, the only thing they might regret is not ordering enough to keep up with demand. It took me weeks to perfect the right combination of caramel and spices, and I even threw in a handful of crushed walnuts into each tiny pie to give it a little crunch. But it’s that buttery caramel that steals the limelight from those golden delicious apples. It’s so smooth and creamy, my best friend Keelie and I spent an hour last night licking the bowls clean ourselves.
I can’t help but sigh over at the two beady-eyed siblings who relish my financial undoing. “I won’t be having my bank account turned in any direction this morning because there isn’t a judge on this planet who would side with—” I’m about to lay into the Simonson sisters with every colorful word in my lexicon when something akin to a flame flickers around Merilee’s ankle. For a brief and fleeting moment, I think it’s simply a stray leaf, but suddenly that flicker materializes into the clear outline of a long-lost, dearly departed orange tabby that I’m guessing once belonged to one of the shrews before me.
“Ha!” Mora Anne scoffs as she takes a step in close. “She can’t finish the sentence because she knows she’s guilty. Just admit it and whip out your checkbook. Save us all the trouble of driving to Ashford. We’re meeting with Darlene Grand this afternoon to secure a booth for the festival. We don’t have a lot of time to dilly-dally with you over a handful of change. Hand it over right now and we can all get on with our day.”
I take a moment to scowl at the surly sisters. Since when is three thousand eight hundred dollars a handful of change? And if it’s so darn piddly, why bother to sue me to begin with?
The ghostly cat twirls around Merilee’s left foot before pausing to look up at me, and I would bet my life that feisty feline just smiled. The pets I see are never skeletal or gruesomely decomposing but clear as vellum versions of themselves in their plush and fluffy prime. On the rare occasion, I do see a once-upon-a-person, but neither the pets nor the people breathe a single word to me. I’m guessing the lack of vocal cords has something to do with it. And, believe you me, I am more than grateful.
I’ve only confided my strange gift to one person, and she wasn’t family at that. Nell Sawyer is my best friend’s grandmother, and she might as well be mine. She’s been that kind to me. If my mother knew about my morbid third eye, she would tie me to a stake and light the flames just trying to usher the dark side out of me. And, well, considering the fact my mother has a way of spreading an errant word around town—you would think she were aspiring to be the biggest gossip Honey Hollow has ever seen—I’m not too sorry I’ve never broached the subject with her. But Nell seemed as understanding as she was intrigued, not one ounce of judgment spilled over from that woman. I’m not sure why I told Nell and not my sisters, or Keelie, Nell’s granddaughter and my BFF, but something about Nell’s sweet round face has the power to pull even the darkest secret from my soul.
“What’s the matter?” Merilee chides with a bony hand set over an equally bony hip. “Cat got your tongue?”
I glance down at the curious cute little kitty. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it does. I’m guessing luck is on my side today.”And not yours, I want to say. “I’ll see you ladies in court.” I bite down a smile as I give one last look to the tiny poltergeist licking its ghostly paws.
Who knows? Maybe Merilee will trip on the courthouse stairs—and if she does, I hope to see it.
Aw heck, maybe she’ll skin a knee.

Author Bio:
Addison Moore is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who writes contemporary and paranormal romance. Her work has been featured in Cosmopolitan magazine. Previously she worked as a therapist on a locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children and two dogs where she eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading.


GIVEAWAY!
ENTER HERE: http://bit.ly/2wSQk0V

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Thursday, September 13, 2018

COVER REVEAL: Love Over Logic by Diana A. Hicks


Love Over Logic
Diana A. Hicks
(Desert Monsoon #2)
Publication date: November 15th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Attorney, Emilia Prado has been living in hiding, ever since the local cartel killed her dad and left her and her mom for dead. But when her long lost cousin needs help leaving her drug lord husband, Emilia knows her time for justice has come.
Hot shot lawyer, Dom Moretti never met a case he couldn’t win. Each win puts distance between him and an old life he wants to forget. But when Emilia, a crush from law school, asks for his help, the life he worked so hard for hangs in the balance.
Out to even the score, Emilia is ready to enact revenge on her father’s killer. But will she risk losing Dom to a side of himself he thought was dead and buried?


Author Bio:
Diana A. Hicks is an award-winning author of steamy contemporary romance and science fiction. Her latest release LOVE OVER LATTES, Book 1 in her Desert Monsoon Series, is a 2018 Readers' Favorite Honorable Mention in the Romance - Contemporary genre!
When Diana is not writing, she enjoys kickboxing, traveling, and indulging in the simple joys of life like wine and chocolate. She lives in Atlanta, and loves spending time with her two children and husband.
Connect with Diana on social media to stay up to date on her latest releases.


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BOOK BLITZ: The Sheikh's Royal Seduction by Leslie North #GIVEAWAY


The Sheikh’s Royal Seduction
Leslie North
Publication date: September 13th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
An exotic prince, a sharp-tongued vet, a passion neither can ignore…
Desperate to save his favorite lioness, Sala, from a deadly disease, Prince Zatar summons exotic wildlife veterinarian Alex Seaton to the palace. But when a stunning woman clad in western clothing arrives at the palace, he’s convinced there must be a mistake. The sharp-tongued, defiant woman couldn’t possibly be skilled enough to save Sala. However, as she works to heal his beloved pet, a dark passion simmers between them. To take her to his bed would be scandalous, but how can he resist such sweet temptation?
Alexis Seaton is all too aware of the practiced seduction of royalty. As a renowned animal healer, she’s spent time in countless luxurious gardens with some of the most exotic big cats in the world. To maintain her professional status, she must resist the prince’s sultry, searching eyes and sensual promises. Only a fool would give up her life’s passion for one night in the arms of a man who would forget her by morning. But under Zatar’s watchful gaze, her resolve shifts like the sands of Arabia, and even she may not be able to resist the sheikh’s royal seduction forever…
EXCERPT:
Timak unlocked the gate and ushered her inside. Alex stepped carefully, feeling a somber air inside this enclosure. Zatar stirred as they approached, his eyes shrinking to slits.
Alex’s mouth fell open as she took him in. Gorgeous was an understatement. The man was made from magazine models, it seemed; piercing hazel eyes under dark brows and luscious black hair. He scrambled to grab his keffiyah and place it on top of his head, then rolled smoothly to his feet.
“Who are you?” His husky voice cut through the air, shaking her from the reverie. She blinked a few times, glancing back at Timak.
“I’m Alexis.” She offered a hand, smiling tightly as he approached. “The veterinarian.”
Zatar stopped a few feet away, his manly presence sinking into her. Broad shouldered and with a certain quality that made her feel like she was meeting a longtime favorite celebrity. Butterflies erupted against her will. He frowned down at her hand.
“There’s been a mistake. We called for a male doctor.”
She blinked, lowering her hand. “Um, no. There’s no mistake. I’m Alex. Alex Seaton.”
His eyes narrowed as he took her in, his jaw working back and forth. She’d worked with enough rich guys to know they preferred things to go their way. And if he’d been under the illusion that she was a man this whole time… She didn’t want to test his adaptability. Royals were notoriously rigid.
“This is nonsense.” He huffed, turning his back on her. “Timak, where’s the real vet?”
Alex’s eyes widened as though he’d slapped her. “Excuse me?”
“Sir, this is the real vet,” Timak said timidly from outside the enclosure. Maybe he’d stayed out there for this reason. Knowing his employer would throw a royal-grade hissy fit about the mistaken gender identity.
“Mr. Balizar,” Alex began.
Prince Zatar,” Zatar snapped. “Your highness, to be accurate.”
She cleared her throat. “Your highness.” Yep. He was a pretty baby, just like all the rest of the golden-spoon rich guys. Wasting all those good looks on immaturity. She drew a deep breath, drawing on her well-stocked reserve of patience. “I am a highly qualified veterinarian, and your people called me.”
He scoffed, flinging his hand in the air.
Her nostrils flared. Her patience was officially worn out. “Okay then. I’ll just excuse myself, since you clearly don’t want my help.”
She headed back toward the enclosure gates, where a stricken Timak stood clutching the bars. She had just reached the gate when a hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around.
Zatar stood behind her, chest heaving, his hazel eyes full of torment. “Wait.”


Author Bio:
Leslie North is the pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.
The truth of the matter is she loves her fictional persona, Leslie North, more than her normal, day-to-day persona! Her bestselling books focus on strong characters and particularly women who aren't afraid to challenge an alpha male. Inspired after years of travel, her stories are set all over the world, from the tough streets of Russia to the beautiful beaches of the middle east.
Leslie fell in love with romance when she first picked up a scrappy, dog-eared romance book from her local library. She began writing soon after and the rest, as they say, was history. She now lives in a cozy cottage on the British coast and enjoys taking long walks with her two Dalmatians, George and Fergie.
She LOVES reader feedback, and if you have any comments, don't hesitate to contact her via e-mail: leslie@leslienorthbooks.com.

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