Thursday, January 31, 2019

BOOK BLITZ: Book of Enchantresses by Mary Ting


Book of Enchantresses
Mary Ting
(Book of Watchers, #2)
Publication date: February 21st 2019
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult
Keira is convinced her guardian, Ezekiel, knows more than he shared about her biological parents, and she will do everything she can to find out who they were. She secretly meets the powerful witch Awan at a nightclub and is promised the answers she seeks on one condition: she retrieves the legendary Book of Enchantresses. Keira, along with Uriel, Samyaza, Jonah, and her Nephilim friends, must travel to another realm in Gotjawal Forest on Jeju Island to recover the spell book. But nothing is free, and actions have consequences. When Keira’s team returns to their world, vampires attack a demon stronghold. No one knows who to blame, but the fragile peace has been rocked. And it’s about to get worse—Lucifer has escaped Hell.

Sequel to:


Author Bio:
International Bestselling, Award-Winning Author Mary Ting writes soulful, spellbinding stories that excite the imagination and captivate readers all over the world. Her books run a wide range of genres and her storytelling talents have won her a devoted legion of fans and garnered critical praise.
Becoming an author happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she had in high school. After realizing she wanted to become a full-time author, Mary retired from teaching after twenty years. She also had the privilege of touring with the Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children's chapter book: No Bullies Allowed.
Mary resides in Southern California with her husband, two children, and two little dogs, Mochi and Mocha. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry.

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BOOK BLITZ: The Leopard Who Claimed a Wolf by Sarah Makela #GIVEAWAY


The Leopard Who Claimed A Wolf
Sarah Mäkelä
(Cry Wolf #6)
Publication date: January 15th 2019
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance
When a wolf loves a leopard…

He’s her protector…
Caitlyn Fraser, a wereleopard who has always hated cruel werewolves, is the former prisoner turned mate of Dougal Sterling, Alpha of the Scottish pack. She’s courting jeopardy with her determination to attend the funeral of her brother’s father, since the Pack blames her for Alistair’s death. But still Dougal protects her from his wolves.


Her defender…
Short of allies, Dougal struggles to balance loyalty and attention between the Pack and Caitlyn. When the Pack’s stability crumbles, he’s faced with the return of his older brother, the rightful Alpha, who shirked his duty after their father’s death. However, Ewan’s challenge will be a battle to the death. Sheltering Caitlyn can only lose Dougal more friends, but he knows she’s the mate he’s longed for.


But survival takes two…
Menace lurks in every corner of the Highlands; Alistair and Ewan’s supporters and haters of shapeshifters abound. Caitlyn and Dougal must stick together, pushing back fiercely when they are attacked. Even if that puts them in mortal danger…
EXCERPT:
Caitlyn
The driveway leading up to the Scottish Pack’s massive headquarters stretched almost half a mile. I rested my chin on my arms and stared out of the Alpha’s window on the second story, overlooking the circular section of the drive. The Pack’s castle came complete with its very own dungeon, but at least they weren’t keeping me in there anymore. The memory of Alistair’s craggy face haunted my dreams each time I closed my eyes. His brutal fists hammered away against my face, ribs, and stomach, until I could no longer sleep.
Tension radiated through my shoulders, and I balled my hands into fists. No, Alistair—Colin’s father—was dead. Dougal had protected me, and my brother, from that monster when I didn’t have the strength to fight back.
Not that it mattered.
Two days had passed since my brother’s sudden departure. Now Colin was on his own with no one to watch his back. How could he leave without saying anything to me? I flexed my fists again, welcoming the anger as it bubbled up in my chest and replaced my sadness.
The heavy weight of a man’s hand descended on my back. I twisted around, my knuckles connecting with a solid jaw lined with dark, coarse stubble. A familiar jaw. Shite.
Dougal stumbled back half a step, but then he planted his feet like a tree with strong roots, not budging any further. Sharp power flared outward from him before he squelched it, stretching the muscles in his jaw. A frown tugged at his lips, and the corners of his eyes creased, either in pain or displeasure.
“Dougal! I’m so sorry.” The sudden movement of punching him had shot a searing ache through my battered ribs again. The pain stole my breath away, but I tried to force it down. How could I have been so careless? If he’d been anyone else in the Pack, I would’ve caused World War III.
“Dinnae fash. The punch bloody well hurt, though. I didn’t realize you were so strong.” Dougal’s frown melted away as he pulled me closer and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Seems like you’re recovering your strength.” His gaze drifted past me to the long gravel driveway of the estate. “How are you doing, love?”
The emotions I’d been stomping down now bubbled to the surface again. “I cannae believe Colin left me. He left before I even regained consciousness. How could he?” With anyone else, I wouldn’t show weakness, but I rested my forehead against Dougal’s chest, needing his touch and savoring his warmth. “I barely had time to talk with him, and when I did, it wasn’t a good time to ask how he was doing after the months he’d spent in that bloody research facility—or even to ask where he would go to heal…”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I held them back, refusing to cry. “I gave up so much—my job, my flat, my life—while trying to track him and bring him home. What if my sacrifices were all for naught?”
“Nae, they weren’t for naught, love.” Dougal kissed the top of my head. “I know you’re hurting. You have plenty of reasons to be, but the man who came back wasn’t the same one who left for the United States.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to see the sincerity in his clear blue eyes. “Whatever those scientists did affected him in ways neither of us will probably ever know. Waiting at the window won’t make him return any sooner.” He wrapped his arms around me and gently pulled me against his chest again. “Let me draw you a bath. Remember, I’m here if you need to talk.”
He was right, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Waiting for Colin’s return wouldn’t help, but what else could I do? “I know, but that doesn’t make this any easier for me. He’s my younger brother. I feel helpless that I cannae be there for him…again.” A heavy ache settled on my heart, and I pulled away hating the awkward emotions crushing me. “Sorry.”
Dougal turned away from me and stared out of the window again. His jaw clenched and unclenched, as if he were trying hard to hold in his words. A lot was going on in his life too, and yet he was making a strong effort to support me through my problems. Things had become increasingly strained between him and his Pack since my arrival and Duncan and Alistair’s subsequent deaths. He didn’t talk about what he faced, and I didn’t want to pressure him.
After a few moments of silence, he released a sigh and turned back toward me. “You’ve done what you could for him, lass.” The ghost of a grin spread across his lips. “Do you still want the bath?”



Author Bio:
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Sarah Mäkelä loves her fiction dark, magical, and passionate. She is a paranormal romance author and a life-long paranormal fan who still sleeps with a night light. In her spare time, she reads sexy books, watches scary movies, and plays computer games with her husband. When she gets the chance, she loves traveling the world too.
Want to learn about new releases? Sign up for my newsletter!
http://bitly.com/SarahMakelaNewsletter


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BOOK BLITZ: Scarlet Toys by S.M. Shade #GIVEAWAY


Scarlet Toys
S.M. Shade
(Violent Circle #1)
Publication date: November 28th 2017
Genres: Comedy, New Adult, Romance
Living on Violet Circle, a place that’s less of a neighborhood and more of an insane asylum poured into the street, I thought I was prepared for anything. After you’ve seen a woman strip down at the laundry room to wash the clothes she’s wearing, then saunter across the street naked, you’ve seen it all, right?
How naïve I was.
After the factory closed, leaving me and a good portion of the town unemployed, I took a job managing Scarlet Toys. I knew it wouldn’t be a typical work environment, selling adult toys in a town more uptight than a constipated nun, but some things you just never see coming.
Like the protesters covered in poison ivy, screaming about smut peddlers.
Or a dancing dinosaur named Fappy.
Or the allure of the man standing in the center of all the chaos.
Wyatt Lawson, a six foot, four inch heap of muscle with a quick smile, ignited my interest in more than the available manager position. Like the missionary one. Or the rodeo. Maybe the side rider. What can I say? I’m an overachiever.
Let’s just hope he doesn’t scare easily.

This is the first book in a series of standalone novels.

Please disregard the page count during the pre-order period. This is a full length 60k+ novel.
EXCERPT:
I can’t believe I’m sexting in a shoe store bathroom. A funny thought occurs to me. Since we’re going for a wax at the day spa next, I could do a little before and after picture. Jani was right when she said I’ve never sent nudes before. It’s time to live a little.
As quietly as possible, I put my shirt back on and slip off my panties, leaving my skirt on. Hmm…I’m not sure about the best way to do this.
I’m not going to squat down in here. I finally decide to put one foot on the toilet seat and then shove the camera under my skirt. The first picture is out of focus and with the light filtering through my green skirt, it looks more like a stepped on tennis ball than a vagina. Fine, the skirt has to come off too.
It joins my panties, hanging on the toilet paper dispenser. I’ve never felt so classy.
Naked from the waist down, I put my foot on the seat again, and focus on getting the perfect shot. The next one is pretty good and I send it, but I decide to take one more.
Why did I decide to take one more?
Just as I hit the button, the toilet seat slides to the side and the plastic bolts in the back holding it on both snap. The seat clatters to the floor, and my foot slides right into the toilet with a splash they probably heard on the sales floor. Thinking I’m going to fall, I panic and grab at the wall, dropping my phone, which slides out of the stall and toward the sinks.
So, there I am in all my glory. Naked, with a broken toilet seat looped around one foot while my other foot rests ankle deep in blue toilet water. No way this can get worse, right?
Wrong.
As I’m trying to extricate myself, I hear a small voice ask, “Mommy, what’s that?”
“The lady dropped her phone, Justin. Just put it on the sink for her.”
Oh god.
Oh no.
“But what is that? It’s weird and…hairy.”
Somebody please shoot me now. Where is a nice stroke or heart attack when you need one? Behind the door, a small boy is getting a look at his first vagina.
My vagina.
The toilet flushes and I hear his mother gasp when she takes the phone from him.
Yeah, I’m not coming out of here. Somebody is going to have to deliver my food because I’m never leaving this stall again.
“What is it?” he repeats.
“It’s just, um, a close up picture,” she stumbles, grasping for an explanation that isn’t some stranger’s vagina.
“Close up of what?” he insists.
“A…mouth. It’s just a blurry picture.” I hear the click of plastic against porcelain as she places the phone on the sink and says, “Wash your hands again.”
“But I already—”
“Again, Justin!”
Justin isn’t finished asking questions though. Through the running water, I hear, “It had a moustache though.
And four lips! Do some guys have extra lips? Am I gonna get more lips? Ohh! Is it an alien? Aliens can have extra lips.”
His voice fades as they leave, and I rush through the stall door to grab my phone, one shoe sloshing and leaving blue puddles across the floor. Of course, they had to have blue water. I pop off my shoe and stuff it with paper towels to mop up the bulk of the water.
That is how Jani and Emily find me a few seconds later.

Author Bio:
I'm a full time author who is hopelessly addicted to Dr. Pepper, love stories, sunshine, and men with full sexy lips, though not necessarily in that order. A voracious reader since I sounded out my first word, I started writing as a teenager and rediscovered my love of writing as an adult. Originally from Indianapolis, I now live in a small Kentucky town with my college age son.
I love to hear from readers so please feel free to contact me or connect with me on Facebook or Twitter.


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Wednesday, January 30, 2019

BOOK BLITZ: Cronin's Key IV by N.R. Walker #GIVEAWAY


Cronin’s Key IV
N.R. Walker
(Cronin’s Key #4)
Publication date: January 28th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
Kennard and Stas have been enjoying being newly bonded mates, hidden away for the last six months in Stas’ cabin, deep in the forests of Northern Russia. When they get a visit from Alec, Cronin, Eiji, and Jodis, Kennard and Stas decide to return to London where they get news of a supernatural disturbance in India.
Excited for a new adventure, the band of friends embark on a journey like they’ve never seen before. Following a trail of snakes and serpents, they slip through gates into timeless dimensions all over the world, leaving them without their vampire powers. Even Alec is powerless as they follow a trail of gates and doorways to their final destination.
But the bad guy isn’t who they think it is, and Kennard will need to draw on his past to save their future. Because history is never what it seems…
EXCERPT:
Chapter One
“Do you think we should try and get out of bed today?” Kennard asked.
“No.” Stas’ voice was gruff, warm and delicious in his ear.
Kennard smiled into the mattress and tried to pull himself toward his pillow, a feigned escape attempt, but Stas’ huge hand gripped his hip and slid him back into place. Then Stas rolled on top of him, his erection pressing against Kennard’s ass. Kennard lifted his hips and spread his legs, giving Stas all the permission he needed as he laughed into the sheet. “It’s been six months. I guess one more day won’t hurt.”
Stas pushed inside him and both men groaned. “We never leave,” Stas whispered, his fangs at Kennard’s shoulder. “Stay here forever.”
Kennard had always doubted the mating bond between vampires. Well, not doubted. He’d never understood it. He’d spent most of his six hundred years alone. He’d had acquaintances and friends and a lot of lovers. Yet his heart had never been moved by anyone. He almost thought it had frozen in his chest when he was changed from human to vampire, because the way he’d seen mated pairs behave was so foreign to him.
But then there was Stas.
As soon as he’d seen him, he knew. The melancholy that had settled over him in the months before, like a mist, had dissolved the moment his eyes fell upon him. His purpose was now clear. This huge, hulking Russian vampire was his.
They’d been holed up in Stas’ cabin in Lithuania at first, barely leaving each other’s embrace for a minute. Then they’d driven Stas’ truck to one of his cabins in some far-off Russian forest and hadn’t left each other’s side, or their bed. Except to feed, which hadn’t been anywhere near as often as it probably should’ve been, because they seemed to feed off each other. Energy, blood, love. Sex. So much sex, yet nowhere near enough. They’d barely stopped long enough for important conversations. Stas had managed to give some of his history, Kennard even less so.
The desire, the bone-deep need to be with Stas, to have him inside him, to be one with him was so profound it was dizzying. Kennard used to roll his eyes at newly fated mates. They used to make him sick. Now he wanted nothing more.
“You are everything,” Stas whispered. He ran his hand through Kennard’s hair, messing it up even further, kissing his head. “My everything.”
Kennard rolled his hips and pressed his forehead into the mattress, arching his back. “I ty moy,” Kennard murmured.
And you are mine.
Stas always reacted when Kennard spoke Russian. Especially in bed. He growled into the back of Kennard’s neck and sunk his fangs into Kennard’s shoulder while he thrust deeper inside him, and Kennard’s whole body sang.
Every cell, every fiber of his being.
And afterwards, when Stas had wrung Kennard of every ounce of pleasure, they lay in bed in each other’s arms.
“I might even try turning on that old radio set today,” Kennard said. “If the batteries work.”
Stas laughed. “You said yesterday. And last week.”
Kennard laughed into his chest, Stas’ chest hair tickling his face, but lovely and soft and warm. “I’ve lost all track of days.”
“I think is March,” Stas said with a chuckle.
Kennard found his broken English adorable, and he hummed happily. “Sounds about right.”
Stas ran his wide hands over Kennard’s slender form, over his pointed hip, up his spine. He was literally twice Kennard’s size. Stas had a masculine build, short, dark-brown hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw. Broad shoulders, huge hands. Everything about him screamed man. Whereas Kennard was fine-featured with pretty, boyish looks and white-blond hair. Stas was a loner, his home in the Russian wilds, in a basic cabin with no electricity or running water, and Kennard was a social guy who lived in an expensive apartment with every conceivable technology and thrived in the London nightlife. Opposites in every way, yet one perfectly complemented the other. “Do you wish to feed?” Stas asked.
Kennard considered it and took stock of his body, his baser need to feed. “No,” he said simply. “I don’t need anything but you right now. What about you?”
But Stas didn’t answer. He cocked his head and he frowned. “Hear that?”
It took Kennard a second to shake his mind of his post-coital haze, but then, yes, he could. “Someone is coming? In this weather?” It was snowing. The entire forest was under a blanket of white.
Stas sat up on the bed and pulled on some jeans. “Is human.”
“Can you read their mind? Do you know who they are?”
Stas froze and turned back to Kennard, who was still sprawled naked on the bed. “No. I not hear them.” He frowned. “How can I not hear them?”
Kennard sat up then. “I don’t know.”
Stas’ cabin was isolated, deep in some Northern Russian forest. It was old, built a few hundred years ago. A simple A-frame log cabin with a bedroom loft on the mezzanine and a small living room on the ground floor, an unused kitchen, and an old-fashioned bathtub they needed to heat water for. It was positively prehistoric compared to Kennard’s apartment in London, but it was all Stas had ever needed. He’d relished in the isolation, a reprieve from his vampiric ability to hear the minds of those around him.
The driveway to the cabin was long and overgrown; the cabin couldn’t be seen from the road, especially in winter. And most human drivers who passed by—of which there were few—didn’t know it was a driveway at all.
Stas had told Kennard he knew humans ignored his driveway because Stas could hear their thoughts. Except he hadn’t heard a thing since Alec had blocked Stas’ mind when they were in the pits under Moscow and…
“Have you heard anything since Moscow and Pennsylvania?” Kennard asked.
Stas seemed confused. “I don’t know. I think no. The campers at lake we found were sleeping, and I focus on you so much, I not notice.”
That was true. They’d only fed once, when some foolish hunters camped out by the lake and drank far too much homemade vodka. It was the first time he and Stas had fed together, and well… it had been a feed and fuck fest. Kennard wasn’t surprised Stas was so distracted. The memory made him flush. “Well,” Kennard said, slipping on a robe. It belonged to Stas, and it swam on Kennard—it was far from his usual stylish garb—but he didn’t care. “Let’s deal with this human first. See if you can hear anything when you speak to him.”
Kennard wasn’t sure of the science behind mind reading or how any vampire talent worked, for that matter, but he gave Stas a smile he hoped was a comfort.
A black van came into view, driving slowly, clearly very unsure or lost. It was getting dark and the van’s headlights cast a yellow light across the snow. It pulled to a stop, and after a moment, a man exited the vehicle. He slid back the side door and pulled out a large bouquet of flowers. Not just any flowers, but white stargazer lilies.
Funeral lilies.
Kennard burst out laughing, dashed down the stairs, and opened the door. The porch cover was deep enough so no sunlight could reach the front door—not that Northern Russia saw much sunshine—and the delivery man smiled at first. Then upon closer inspection, as though realizing Kennard wasn’t exactly human, or perhaps he felt the danger, that cold shiver of fear from being so close to evil, the man’s smile disappeared and he stumbled closer to the door. He mumbled something in Russian that Kennard couldn’t quite work out—huge payment, middle of nowhere?—but he handed over the large bouquet and staggered back, waving as he climbed into his van before he sped back down the driveway.
Kennard spun inside, twirling like a dancer, and laughed as he held out the flowers. “Well, at least we know what day it is.”
Stas was clearly confused. “What?”
“It’s March twenty-fourth.”
“What is the significance of this date to you?” Stas asked. “And who sent you flowers? Who even knows where we are?”
Kennard flitted over to his big protective lump of a mate, leaned up on his toes, and kissed him. “March twenty-fourth is a dark, dark day in England’s history. A day of mourning, really.”
Stas was immediately concerned and angry, even. “What is it? What happened to hurt you like this? I will find them!”
Kennard chuckled. “Nothing like that, my love. Cronin sends me flowers on March twenty-fourth, every year, to commemorate the union of the crowns.” Kennard frowned and sighed loudly. “A dark, dark day indeed.”
Stas cupped Kennard’s face. “What is this union of crowns? I not understand.”
Kennard shook his head sadly. “It was when a damn Scot became King of England.”


Author Bio:
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance.
She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.
She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since…


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BOOK BLITZ: EVO by Diane May #GIVEAWAY


EVO
Diane May
Publication date: July 23rd 2018
Genres: Adult, Thriller

A covert CIA operation that involves genetic engineering.
A serial killer nicknamed “The Hypnotist”.
And the most terrifying threat humanity has to face.


What if someone could take complete control over your mind? And what if that someone was a serial killer?

Discover EVO, a gripping crime thriller that reviewers and readers describe as “spellbinding”, “high-energy” and “impossible to put down”.

Langley, Virginia, twenty years earlier:
John Blake, a CIA special agent, stumbles upon an illegal genetic experiment within the agency, conducted on unborn babies and officially presented as a fertility program designed to help couples get pregnant. When he realizes that his very own daughter is a product of this sinister plot and that she is in grave danger, he vows to do everything it takes to make sure Maya will be safe and the people behind the experiment will all pay. With their lives.


Verona, Italy, present time:
Livio Marchiori, a homicide detective with the highest rate of solved cases in Verona, is faced with The Hypnotist, a serial killer the likes of which he’s never seen before. He never touches his victims and he leaves no evidence behind, except for the detailed videos of his murders. And what Marchiori and his team see on those videos is more disturbing than all their other cases combined. Because this one is different. This one defies all rational thinking and borders the impossible.

Then The Hypnotist gets personal and threatens to kill Dr. Abby Jones, the chief medical examiner and the woman Marchiori is in love with. Caught in a cat-and-mouse game with the elusive killer, Marchiori knows he is quickly running out of time.
So when Captain Victor Miller from Interpol walks into town, Marchiori is more than happy to partner again with the man who two years ago helped him put an entire mafia clan behind bars. But Miller has his own agenda, and Marchiori soon discovers that there is more to these crimes than meets the eye, an entire thread of things way beyond his pay grade – illegal experiments, secret agencies, and the most terrifying threat humanity has to face.
A gripping serial killer thriller with a “hit-the-brakes-with-both-feet plot twist that may leave even the most jaded among us feeling good about humanity.”


“He stripped down, threw his clothes in the blue hamper behind the door, and got in the shower. He turned his body away from the faucet and placed his hands on the wall, letting the hot water beat down his back. Doing this usually relaxed him, but now it somehow amplified this weird restlessness, this foreboding feeling he couldn’t shake off. Annoyed at himself, he quickly washed his body, turned off the faucet and reached for the brown towel on the hook.
A heavy silence filled his apartment. A few drops of water from the shower head splashed onto the ceramic tiles below, the sound deafening to his ears. His heart started beating faster. All of a sudden he wanted to hear human voices, his neighbours yelling at each other, their baby crying, anything but this dead silence and the rhythmic tapping of the water drops.
An icy shiver rippled down his spine and his body started shaking. Unseen walls were sliding down around him, trapping him. Suffocating him.”
EXCERPT:
Present day
His eyelids stung as if they were held open by sharp needles. He felt tired, but it wasn’t just an every-now-and-then feeling. He felt perpetually tired, as though life and blood were slowly oozing out of him. Tired of being around the sick and the grieving, tired of his starched white coat, grey slacks and polished black shoes, tired of feeling lonely and having no-one at home waiting for him.
For a moment, he entertained the idea of crashing out in the on-call room at the hospital, but the bunk bed with its lumpy, cheap mattress held little appeal. The Borgo Trento hospital in Verona, one of the best in Italy, didn’t offer much in this regard. Then there was the constant smell of ammonia, laundry soap and bed sweat hovering in the air, impregnating the walls, the furniture, the clothes he was wearing. Sometimes it filled his nostrils and almost suffocated him and its acrid taste remained at the back of his throat for days.
He’d go home instead.
He took off his coat and carefully put it on the coat hanger in the closet by the door. He fished out a small hair comb he religiously kept inside the breast pocket of his shirt, looked in the mirror hung on the inside of the closet door and began tidying his unruly hair. He had always been obsessed with this. If he didn’t comb his hair every few hours, it started looking like a half-built bird’s nest.
He focused all of his attention on his hair and tried to ignore the sagging pale face in the mirror. He was forty-five, but his hectic life-style and the sterile light in the room added at least another decade to that. With a receding hairline and his black hair developing more than just a few grey friends, his dull-brown eyes slightly too close, and his waist puffing out like rising bread dough – although he tried to hide it under large sweaters and shirts – he knew he wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt.
In his opinion, men fell into four categories: the gorgeous scoundrels, who had half of the female population swooning at their feet; the handsome good guys, who also encountered no difficulties in finding a partner; the ugly, but charming, who still had their fair share of success with the opposite sex. And then came the invisible ones. The men who were neither good-looking, nor ugly. The ones you saw once and failed to remember the next day. They were the nice guys. And he was one of them.
He sighed and turned away from the mirror. He took the leather jacket from the coat hanger, grabbed his briefcase and stepped out of his office into the brightly lit corridor of the virology wing. It was Sunday evening, a little over eight o’clock, and he had just finished a thirty-six-hour shift.
“Good night, Doctor Pasetto,” the nurse at the reception desk said, her red-rimmed eyes peering at him from behind thick glasses. Then she resumed staring at the computer screen in front of her, pounding on the keyboard.

“Good night, Dorina,” he answered, always polite, always using first names.
Because he was the nice guy. This was how the few women he had been with – in his pathetic attempts to find the one – would describe him.

In his twenties and thirties, he had been too busy studying and making a name for himself to think about starting a family, although his mother had gradually become more vocal in expressing her desire to have grandchildren. But once he had established an excellent reputation for himself, his lonely existence started to weigh him down, and he found himself wishing for someone in his life, a person he could share everything with, who’d be at home when he arrived in the evenings, ask about his day and tell him in great detail about her own.
He stepped outside into the grey twilight gloom and ambled to his car. He thought about the date he had a few evenings ago. An intelligent and beautiful woman with a healthy sense of humour, a woman he certainly wished to see again. But that would never happen.
It’s not you, it’s me, she had told him, you’re such a nice man, Niccolò, you deserve someone with less emotional baggage.

He was tired of hearing what a nice guy he was.
He pointed the key fob at his black Mercedes; the doors unlocked with a low hum, the mirrors reverted to the normal position, and the interior light came on. He climbed behind the wheel.

The thought of sleeping at the hospital popped into his mind again, more persistent this time. But he pushed it aside. His own bed was much more comfortable.
He turned the key in the ignition, and with a soft purr, the car started. He drove out of the parking lot and joined the traffic. His apartment was ten minutes away from the hospital.
There were few cars on the streets now, the city’s inhabitants relaxing in front of the television, beer in one hand, remote control in the other. He loved the quiet of the dark, the sleepiness of Verona like a cat curled up on the warm mat in front of the fireplace dozing off into oblivion. At least until the next morning when the Veronese invaded the streets once again, driving to work, and day-dreaming about the next summer holiday.
He parked the car in his private underground garage, and dragged his feet to the door that connected the garage to his apartment building.
As his right foot hovered over the first step, a strange, unsettling feeling washed over him and made him freeze for a few seconds. He felt the muscles in his stomach tighten and a tremor rippled through his body. This had never happened to him before. He stood their motionless, feeling confused and ridiculous, a grown man behaving like a superstitious old fool.
He finally snapped out of it and went up the stairs, every step feeling heavier somehow.
His apartment was on the first floor, and he stopped in front of the door, patting down his pockets and trying to remember where the hell he had shoved his keys. After two full minutes and a lot of mental swearing, he finally found them in the front compartment of his briefcase.
I definitely need a holiday, he decided as he took them out and unlocked the door.
He went inside, closed the door behind him and turned on the lights. The uneasy feeling returned full force and he felt scared. He almost wanted to run out of his apartment.
Don’t be an idiot!
But as an extra-precaution he locked and bolted the door carefully. Then he dragged his feet into the bathroom, but not before he turned off the lights in the corridor. Wasting the planet’s already depleted resources wasn’t something he took lightly. He was that kind of man.
He stripped down, threw his clothes in the blue hamper behind the door, and got in the shower.
He turned his body away from the faucet and placed his hands on the wall, letting the hot water beat down his back. Doing this usually relaxed him, but now it somehow amplified this weird restlessness, this foreboding feeling he couldn’t shake off. Annoyed at himself, he quickly washed his body, turned off the faucet and reached for the brown towel on the hook.
A heavy silence filled his apartment. A few drops of water from the shower head splashed onto the ceramic tiles below, the sound deafening to his ears. His heart started beating faster. All of a sudden he wanted to hear human voices, his neighbours yelling at each other, their baby crying, anything but this dead silence and the rhythmic tapping of the water drops.
An icy shiver rippled down his spine and his body started shaking. Unseen walls were sliding down around him, trapping him. Suffocating him.
What the hell is wrong with me? Could this be a panic attack?
He had never had one in his life, but his mother suffered from them periodically. Maybe somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind the prospect of leading a lonely existence scared the hell out of him.
He took a few deep breaths and managed to bring his erratic heartbeat down a notch.
And then he heard a noise. It sounded like footsteps in the bedroom. He stopped breathing and his body went rigid. Cold water trickled from his hair down his face. And pure panic constricted his throat.
I’m naked. In the shower box.
And yet he wasn’t sure he wanted to get out. The air around him became menacing, as if something evil was lurking in the shadows of his apartment. He closed his eyes.
This is getting ridiculous! Nobody could have gotten in!
With jerky movements he dried his body, put on a pair of black boxers and an old grey t-shirt, and went to the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet to the right of the mirror and took out the bottle of Xanax he kept there for his mother. He put it on the sink and stared at it. He’d never thought he would actually come to need it himself.
He placed his palms on either side of the sink, holding himself up, his head lowered, his forehead and chin beaded with sweat.
His gaze fell on the pair of scissors he used the previous morning to cut off the plastic wrap holding two bottles of mouthwash he had bought for the price of one. Grey steel and black plastic against the immaculate white ceramic of the sink. Kind of like his own life. No colours, no joy in it.
He decided he needed the Xanax. He grabbed the bottle and was about to unscrew the cap.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
He froze. His heart started hammering hard against his rib cage.
A man’s voice. Inside his house.
His breathing turned shallow and quick, and a cold clammy sweat covered his skin.
But I locked the door. I locked the door!
Then he understood. The intruder had already been inside. The bottle of Xanax slid from his hand and clattered to the floor, rolling under the sink.
“Now look what you’ve done!” the intruder said, his jeering voice mean and hollow like a dead man’s laugh.
It came from the darkness of the corridor.
You need to do something! Do something!
He wished he knew what to do. He had never attacked anyone in his life and had no idea how to go about it. What if the burglar was armed? Maybe he should just give him whatever the hell he wanted and be done with it.
He saw the scissors on the sink.
He felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his body as he realised the man couldn’t see the scissors. His whole body tensed, his blood ran faster and his muscles were ready for attack. In one swift movement he grabbed the scissors and lunged at the figure in the dark shadows.
But instead of driving the scissors deep inside a warm body, he stabbed… nothing. He lost his balance and fell on the cold, hard tiles in the small corridor connecting the two bedrooms to the bathroom and living-room.
He didn’t have the scissors anymore. He had dropped them trying to break the fall, and they were now lying somewhere out of his reach.
He heard a laugh behind him, cruel and evil like the depths of Dante’s inferno.
“Get up!”
He did as instructed, slowly. His legs were unsteady as he had injured his right knee when he fell, and he almost felt like checking to make sure the scissors weren’t stuck in his kneecap, so excruciating was the pain.
“Turn on the light.”
With a trembling hand he flipped the light switch up.
As the warm glow flooded the corridor, he understood he was going to die.
And at the exact same moment he realised how much he wanted to live. How rich and blessed his life really was, how he still had time to meet the right woman, start a family, buy a house in the suburbs and fill it with love and laughter, just like in those sappy movies played year after year on TV at Christmas.
A scornful smile stretched across the features of this soulless shell of a man all dressed in black. “I’m afraid that’s just not in the cards for you. You see, you made one fatal mistake six years ago.” He paused, his face hard and ruthless, then added in a voice as final as a judge giving the death sentence. “You worked for Doc.”
“Who…? I never—”
The words died on his lips. The heavily guarded medical lab, the creepy doctor in charge… it all came back to him.
“Exactly,” the killer nodded as if he could actually read his thoughts. “And now it’s time to pay the price. But if it’s any consolation, you won’t be the only one.”


Author Bio:
Diane May is a crime thriller writer and she lives in Verona, Italy, with her husband. When she's not in her office writing, she can usually be found curled up on the sofa with a good book in her lap and a cup of green tea next to her.
The only daughter of an army colonel, she grew up on military bases where she learnt about weapons, discipline and the sacrifices of military life. She also worked for many years as a translator and interpreter for the Court of Law on mostly criminal cases.
EVO is her debut novel and she is currently working on her second crime thriller, Till Death Do Us Part, scheduled to be released in 2019.


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Tuesday, January 29, 2019

BOOK REVEAL: Their Discovery by Rebecca Grace Allen


Their Discovery
Rebecca Grace Allen
(Legally Bound, #3)
Publication date: April 29th 2019
Genres: Erotica, Romance
Brady Archer’s marriage is falling apart. He’s tried being the goofy guy who stole Sam’s heart, but it’s not working, and his inability to please her cuts him deeper than she knows.
Sam still loves her husband, but it’s hard to find him sexy when he acts more like her third kid than her husband. When she lands a new job at a law firm, Brady needs to pick up the slack. Giving him orders should feel tedious, but instead it unexpectedly reignites their missing spark.
While Brady glimpses the woman he fell for, he also unveils a side of himself that shakes him to the core. Turns out there’s no solid emotional footing between his duty at work to call the shots, and his need to call his wife Mistress.
But their attempt to fix things, including inviting Sam’s sexy female coworker into their bed, only widens the cracks in their relationship. Worse, when Sam discovers a discrepancy in the firm’s paperwork, she realizes she may have trusted the wrong person…and the fallout could cost her and Brady everything.
Warning: Contains a six-foot-five, ex-football player submissive and a ballsy, badass redhead who is learning to unleash her inner Domme. Scenes depicting humiliation, pegging, and threesomes could disturb, or stimulate a thirst for adventure.


Author Bio:
Rebecca Grace Allen is an author of sweet, sexy and soul searching romance, emphasis on the sexy! She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English with a double concentration in Creative Writing and Literary Comparison, as well as a Master of Science degree in Elementary Education, both of which seemed like good ideas at the time. After stumbling through careers in entertainment, publishing, law and teaching, she's returned to her first love: writing. A self-admitted caffeine addict and gym rat, she currently lives in upstate New York with her husband, two parakeets, and a cat with a very unusual foot fetish.
Sign up for Rebecca's newsletter: http://www.rebeccagraceallen.com/newsletter

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BOOK BLITZ: Three Burning Red Runaway Brides by Kevin James Breaux #GIVEAWAY


Three Burning Red Runaway Brides
Kevin James Breaux
(The Water Kingdom, #3)
Publication date: January 14th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal
Sabrina London is back! The fate of the Elemental Kingdoms rests in the hands of its newest ruler: Sabrina London. When last seen, the fairy princess had made a deal with the King of Filth to save the lives of her friends. Now she is fighting to live the life she wants while trying to save the lives of millions. A monster, more dangerous than any other she has overcome threatens both the human and non-human world. How will she restore the balance? Despite the risks, Sabrina enlists the aid of one of her people’s biggest rivals. She has spun a complex web of lies and deception, now trying to gain her freedom, unaware that everyone she allies with has their own plans. THREE BURNING RED RUNAWAY BRIDES is the action-packed third and final book in The Water Kingdom Series, following TWO POLLUTED BLACK-HEART ROMANCES and ONE SMOKING HOT FAIRY TAIL.
EXCERPT:
Chapter 1 – Perfect Body Double
There was a time when Sabrina London lived for this—the loud, thumping music, the bright, pulsating lights, the scent of perfume mixed with sweat—but that was then, not now. Crazy, just how much could change in six months—seemingly everything.
This was her first time back in civilization. Fitting that it was the hottest spot in Los Angeles on one of, if not the biggest, nights to party: Club Afterlife on New Year’s Eve.
Every year, the club hosted one of their famous masquerade balls. This year’s theme was Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death.”
Sabrina blended in, just another partygoer draped in a loose, crimson robe, with a stark white, full facemask on. The disguise allowed her to witness the events of the night anonymously.
She may have been there in secret, but she was not there alone.
Her partner had circumnavigated the long lines and gained entrance to the club with ease, then singled out her target and made her move. After months and months of development, the plan was finally in motion.
Sabrina watched from across the crowded club. Her double had done a good job, maybe even too good a job. Jackson had been easily seduced.
Her double had commandeered a VIP booth and then slyly fucked a man Sabrina had feelings for. Sabrina had not realized until then, when her nails cut into her sweaty palms, that she had made two tight fists—one for each of them.
Skipper sauntered back, although clearly uncertain on her heels and clumsy in her billowing, Victorian-style dress. Sabrina had nicknamed her body double Skipper for many reasons. One was to remind her of her place—Skipper was always Barbie’s lesser and Sabrina hoped the name reminded the girl of just that.
Just as Sabrina felt her blood heat, Jackson called out her name; the ruse had worked.
Sabrina waved to Skipper from where she hid around a tall marble pillar. When the girl got there, Sabrina could hear her panting—she was almost out of breath.
“I didn’t tell you to fuck him. Here. In front of everyone,” Sabrina snapped. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“You told me to seduce him,” Skipper said over the loud dance music. “I did, and it worked.” She smiled as she fixed her lace Venetian masquerade mask. “You heard him, right? He just shouted out your name.”
Sabrina settled herself quickly. She could see Jackson approaching through the dense crowd. “Fine. Time to take this to the next step. He needs to see you. All of you.”
Skipper nodded.
“He’s coming,” Sabrina’s guard interrupted.
“Already did,” Skipper said under her breath.
“Remember the plan. Get him to take you home,” Sabrina repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. “Do whatever it takes to convince him you are Sabrina London. He needs to…one hundred percent…believe the lie.”
“And if he doesn’t believe me?”
“You know that answer. Don’t make me say it again.”
Skipper nodded.
“Good. Go. Run out the door. He’ll follow you.”
“Will you be okay here?”
Sabrina made a sour face as she glanced about, like it all—the music, the lights, the crowds—disgusted her. “Me? I’m leaving.”
“Okay. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Skipper.”
With that, Sabrina’s double stepped into the crowd, caught Jackson’s attention and then dashed for the door. Sabrina stared longingly at her former lover as he passed her by, but he didn’t even glance her way. Even if he had, all he would have seen was another person dressed as Red Death.
“We should get you to the roof,” Sabrina’s guard urged. “Dunyasha will be waiting for us.”
Sabrina gazed at the ceiling, as if she could see the vampire through it. “She’s pacing. For someone with so much time at her disposal, she’s incredibly impatient.”
“My queen?” her guard prompted again.
“Yes, Voss, let’s go home. I’ve had enough of this place.”


Author Bio:
Kevin James Breaux has written nine books and devoted the past twelve years of his life to crafting short stories and novels. He is a member of the Horror Writers Association, Paranormal Romance Guild, and other groups.
Breaux is always enthusiastic about the challenge writing presents. He lives by the motto "Write Makes Might!"© and sees each new page as an opportunity to improve and advance.
Breaux was formerly represented by Marisa A. Corvisiero, the founder of the Corvisiero Literary Agency.


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BOOK REVEAL: Fool's Errand by Ophelia Bell


Fool’s Errand
Ophelia Bell
(Fate’s Fools, #4)
Publication date: March 19th 2019
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. In my case that was literal – I had Ozzie West’s soul and didn’t know it, but now it’s been torn from me and I will never get him back.
My heart is broken.
My three mates may try to fill that void, but they don’t understand what he meant to me. They can’t see the memories unlocked by Fate.
Only one man can help, but he’s the one man I can never trust again.








Author Bio:
Ophelia Bell loves a good bad-boy and especially strong women in her stories. Women who aren't apologetic about enjoying sex and bad boys who don't mind being with a woman who's in charge, at least on the surface, because pretty much anything goes in the bedroom.
Ophelia grew up on a rural farm in North Carolina and now lives in Los Angeles with her own tattooed bad-boy husband and four attention-whoring cats.
If you'd like to receive regular updates on Ophelia's publications, freebies, and discounts, please subscribe to her mailing list: http://opheliabell.com/subscribe/ 

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Monday, January 28, 2019

BOOK BLITZ: Bound by Obsession by Trish McCallan #GIVEAWAY


Bound By Obsession
Trish McCallan
Publication date: February 21st 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
When Navy SEAL Brett (Tag) Taggart’s ex-love is kidnapped during her wedding—to another man—Tag joins his SEAL brethren to rescue her. The mission reveals why Sarah walked out on him two years earlier, a revelation that serves to inflame the baggage between them. This time—after the danger settles and Sarah is free, will Tag be the one to walk away?
EXCERPT:
“You shouldn’t be here.” Her voice was flat, a careful monotone.
He locked down a flinch. That even, cautious tone was another departure from the free living, expressive spirit she’d been back then.
“We need to talk,” he said, channeling that same flat monotone.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She backed up a pace, as though she were about to slam the door in his face.
“Then you can listen.” He stuck his foot in the doorframe and locked down every ounce of emotion. “Look, I’m not here to get you back, okay? That ship sailed a long time ago. But you used to be a friend, and you’re about to make a big mistake. That’s something I can’t walk away from.”
“This isn’t your business.” The skin around her eyes tightened.
“I’m making it my business.” He forced the next words out, all too aware that the bearer of bad news was usually the one skewered and strung. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. Mitch isn’t the guy you think he is.”
“I know exactly the kind of man he is.” She contradicted him, her voice even tighter than before.
“Do you?” Tag asked grimly. “Then you know your loving fiancé is fishing at the BU and taking a new catch home every night?”
Something slipped through her eyes. But it wasn’t pain. It was more calculating than that.
“I don’t care.”
Tag rocked back on his heels. She didn’t care? That didn’t sound like the Sarah he’d known.
She must have seen the surprise on his face, because she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping with intensity. “Look, nothing you say is going to change my mind. Nothing. Just go.”
He shook his head, disoriented. Could she really have changed that much over the course of two years? The Sarah he’d been in love with would never have put up with Mitch’s bullshit. Not if she’d known about it. The Sarah he’d loved had too much pride for that.
With a lift of his eyebrows, he cocked his head, studying her. Every freckle stood out like flecks of gold on her white face. He regrouped, frowning. There was something off here. Way off.


Author Bio:
Trish McCallan was born in Eugene, Oregon, and grew up in Washington State, where she began crafting stories at an early age. Her first books were illustrated in crayon, bound with red yarn, and sold for a nickel at her lemonade stand. Trish grew up to earn a bachelor's degree in English literature with a concentration in creative writing from Western Washington University, taking jobs as a bookkeeper and human- resource specialist before finally quitting her day job to write full time.
Forged in Fire, the first book in her Red Hot SEALs series, came about after a marathon reading session, and a bottle of Nyquil that sparked a vivid dream. She lives today in eastern Washington. An avid animal lover, she currently shares her home with four golden retrievers, a black lab mix and two cats.


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BOOK REVEAL: Demon Magic and a Martini by Annette Marie


Demon Magic and a Martini
Annette Marie
(The Guild Codex: Spellbound #4)
Published by: Dark Owl Fantasy Inc.
Publication date: April 12th 2019
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy
When I first landed a bartending job at the local guild, I didn’t know a thing about magic. These days, I’m practically an expert on the different magical classes, but there’s one nobody ever talks about: Demonica.
Turns out they have a good reason for that. My guild is strictly hellion-free, because who wants to risk life and limb to control the biggest bullies on the mythic playground?
Well, some people do, and now a demon has been loosed in the city. My three best friends are determined to slay it, but even badass combat mages are critically out-magicked. And that’s not all. The monster they’re tracking—it’s not hiding. It’s not fleeing. It’s not leaving a trail of corpses everywhere it goes.
The demon is hunting too. And in a city full of mythics, it’s searching for deadlier prey.
If we can’t unravel the demon’s sinister motivations, more innocent people will die, but finding the answers means digging into dark secrets … and learning truths I never wanted to know.

Note: The three mages are definitely sexy, but this series isn’t a reverse harem. It’s 100% fun, sassy, fast-paced urban fantasy.


THE GUILD CODEX: SPELLBOUND
Three Mages and a Margarita (#1)
Dark Arts and a Daiquiri (#2)
Two Witches and a Whiskey (#3)
Demon Magic and a Martini (#4)


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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BOOK BLITZ: Wicked Obsession by Patti O'Shea #GIVEAWAY



Wicked Obsession 
Patti O’Shea 
(The Paladin League, #1)
Publication date: January 22nd 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Blue-blooded woman
As an ambassador’s daughter, Langley Canfield has lived all over the world, but she’s never fit in—not abroad and not at home. She thought she found a man who loved her for who she is, but when it becomes obvious that she’s the only one with deep feelings, Langley breaks up with him and heads across the country for a friend’s wedding.
Blue-collar guy
Special Forces Sergeant Ryder Pienkowski knew that he’d never be able to hold on to Langley Canfield, that she was completely out of his league, but it still stuns him when she ends things between them. He’s trying to get her out of his head when her father arrives and tells Ryder there’s a death threat directed at her. Without hesitation, Ryder hops on a plane and flies out to protect Langley. She might not want him anymore, but he’s not letting anyone hurt her.
Behind the Scenes of Wicked Obsession
Some books don’t have much of a behind-the-scenes story, but that isn’t the case with Wicked Obsession. Here are some things that went on with this book.
Ryder and Langley weren’t supposed to be first in The Paladin League series. One of Ryder’s friends and that guy’s heroine were slated for that spot, but when my long-time writing buddy, Trish McCallan, asked if I was interested in doing connected stories, Ryder arrived.
Originally, Trish and I planned to write novellas, but both our stories expanded until they were novels. Oops! We decided to go with full books and forged onward.
As I wrote, Straight Up by Paula Abdul continually played in my head and it became the theme for this book. I’ll never be able to hear it again without thinking of Ryder and Langley.
In the first draft of Wicked Obsession, chapter 6 was the opening chapter. I needed to back up because too much happened before that point. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where to begin writing, and this was the first story I’ve tackled since I lost my mom to breast cancer. It was hard to get back in the swing of things.
My characters tell me their names—I don’t get to pick them. Ryder was straightforward and gave me his full name right away. Langley provided her first name immediately, but her last name changed multiple times over the first few chapters.
I always find pictures of my hero and heroine early in the writing process. By then I know them well enough to find a person who looks like them and that image also helps reveal things about my characters that I didn’t know at the start. With Ryder, I knew he was Polish from his surname, but I didn’t realize he was also half Italian until I found his picture.
In the series arc for The Paladin League, the hero from book 3 showed me a whole lot of attitude. I didn’t know what his problem was, and since I wasn’t working on his story yet, I didn’t try to find out. Wicked Obsession showed me why he acted the way he did.
No two books ever seem to write the same, and this one blazed its own trail. Sometimes it frustrated, but I enjoyed Ryder and Langley and I’m glad I was able to tell their story.
Author Bio:
Nationally bestselling author Patti O'Shea has won many awards for her writing and been nominated for even more. Her books have appeared on the Barnes & Noble, Waldenbooks, and Borders bestseller lists and have earned starred reviews in prestigious publications such as Publishers Weekly and Booklist.
At various points in her life, Patti O'Shea wanted to be a doctor, a pilot, an archeologist, an astronomer, a figure skater, a ballerina, an oceanographer, a marine biologist, and a photographer before she discovered writing at the age of fourteen. That's when she knew what she really wanted to be when she grew up.
By the time she entered the University of Minnesota, she realized she'd need a practical career. She chose the School of Journalism and took classes in nearly every discipline the college offered. After graduating with a degree in Advertising Copywriting (and far more credits than she needed), she promptly went to work for Northwest Airlines—in accounting. Since then she's moved throughout the company, working in departments like Technical Records, Tech Publications, and 757 Engineering. After the merger with Delta, her job was moved to Atlanta and Patti followed it. She works in TechOps in Maintenance Programs.
Born with a need to see everything, Patti has traveled to far off and exotic places like Papua New Guinea, Fanning Island, and the Yukon Territory in Canada. Along the way, she's had the opportunity to experience a lot of cool things. In Alaska, she saw a humpback whale breach near the catamaran on which she sailed; she's visited a salt mine in Austria and traveled to a lower level by sliding down a wooden rail; and she's seen a shark fin break the water in Australia right next to the small boat she was on. She's visited just about every one of King Ludwig's castles in Germany; watched the cliff divers of Acapulco; and was nearly mugged in a parking lot in Los Angeles.
With her wanderlust sated, Patti finally decided to get serious about writing. She quickly discovered that her travel and her eclectic education were all training to become an author. It's helped her to know a little bit about a lot of things since she's had characters that have been computer geeks, army officers, private investigators, demons, thieves, and other assorted careers. She's even managed to incorporate pieces of some of the places she's visited into her stories.


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Sunday, January 27, 2019

BOOK BLITZ: No Cowboys No Angels by Petie McCarty


No Cowboys No Angels
Petie McCarty
(Mystery Angel Romances #1)
Publication date: November 28th 2018
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance
. . . a cozy romantic mystery with suspense from The Mystery Angel Romances series. An angel hidden in every book, waiting for the reader to figure out who . . .
Kellen Brand’s inheritance turns out to be a whopper — one dilapidated farm in West Virginia and one guardian angel! Since Kellen is convinced no sane woman would choose to live in Riverside, she vows to sell her farm and quick.
Her handsome and reclusive neighbor Luke Kenyon must block the farm sale or risk exposure of his family’s secrets. While Kellen has located one potential buyer, she faces a town full of objectors. Someone is trying to frighten her off, and Luke is forced to step in and rescue her more than once.
Unfortunately, Kellen can’t seem to stay out of trouble. She stumbles onto a clandestine hazardous-waste-dumping operation next to her farm, and she prays Luke has one more rescue up his sleeve. It’s her only hope of staying alive.
Unless her mother really did leave her a guardian angel . . .


Book 2–No Angels for Christmas–coming April 2019
Book 3–The Angel and the SEAL–coming June 2019
EXCERPT:
The frigid water closed in over Kellen, and she lashed out with both arms to force her head above the surface for a desperate breath. Her hiking boots would sign her death warrant. They already felt like concrete blocks. She had only minutes, maybe seconds, to keep herself afloat. She thrashed again, and this time her face barely cleared the water’s surface. She was ready and screamed with all her might.
Icy water filled her eyes, and her arms stroked hard to keep her mouth above the water long enough to grab a precious lungful of air. She scissored her legs to help her dwindling buoyancy, but the physical act was so difficult with the boots on, her muscles screamed with the effort.
How many more times can I get a breath? Two, maybe three?
Her arm muscles strained in revolt as she scissored her legs again. She plummeted farther after each thrust, and her best effort barely pushed her mouth and nose above the surface. She didn’t scream again. There was no one around to hear, and she couldn’t spare the strength. Less than a minute had passed since she’d hit the freezing water.
Downward she stroked her arms hard, but the heavy flannel shirt dragged against the motion. She opened her eyes to see the surface, and at the peak of her thrust, her lips were still underwater. She tried to scissor her legs, but she had nothing left. She feared she would sink and flailed both arms upward. Death hovered at her shoulder, near as the blackest of shadows beneath the dock, tangible enough that she could reach out and touch the darkness. Another stroke downward, and she jerked her head back, ready to grab a breath. She could see a blurred shadow moving overhead. Hope buoyed her efforts to escape from the frigid arms of the river drawing her down, and she forced her way to the surface.
A huge hand plunged into the icy water and grabbed her right arm. Kellen felt her body straining toward the surface. The second her mouth was exposed to the air, she gasped for a breath. A cough wracked her frame and threatened the tenuous hold of the mighty hand on her arm. She sunk back down, her eyes filled with water, and her vision blurred. She knew she weighed a ton—with the soaked clothing and boots—and panicked thinking the hand couldn’t hold on. Yet she was dragged higher until another hand grabbed the back of her shirt, and her body careened up and sideways onto the deck. The mighty hands released her, and she clutched at the wooden planks to be sure she was far enough from the precipice to the icy water. She heaved two successive gasps, and a hard sob wracked her frame.
Two strong arms tugged her upright. She blinked rapidly to clear her blurred vision and saw Luke’s face, his dark eyes wide. Nothing had ever looked so good to her in all her life. With another hard sob, she threw herself into his arms and broke into tears. The brush with death shattered all her resolve and kindled emotions buried in the deepest recesses of her heart.
He yanked her roughly to him and clutched her tight to his chest, mumbling soothing words into her ear. His warmth seeped into her, and she clung to him like her lifeline, digging her fingers into his back, unwilling to let go and unable to stop crying.
“I almost d-drowned,” she stuttered, her face buried against his warm and now soaked chest.
“Good Lord, I know,” he rumbled and crushed her even tighter against him.
“If you had been a minute later,” she wheezed and tried to look up at him.
“Don’t even think that!”
She flinched and leaned back. His gaze looked hard and unyielding.
“Just be glad I got here in time,” he whispered harshly, and his eyes went black as onyx. He cupped her cheeks, lowered his mouth, and gently brushed his lips against hers.
The sizzle of heat shot straight to her heart and warmed her from the inside out. All she could manage was a nod. His kiss twisted all her wild emotions into a spinning vortex, allowing her only to react without thought, and she leaned in to kiss him again.


Author Bio:
Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World -- "The Most Magical Place on Earth" -- where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to her "day" job to write her stories full-time. These days Petie spends her time writing sequels to her regency time travel series, Lords in Time, and her cozy-mystery-with-a-dash-of-romantic-suspense series, the Mystery Angel Romances.
Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and a noisy Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in No Angels for Christmas.
My first two books released by the now-closed Desert Breeze Publishing--Everglades and Catch of the Day--are temporarily unavailable while I change publishers. You can contact me at petiemccarty@gmail.com for updates on their re-release.
Visit Petie's web site online at petiemccarty.com or her Facebook page at Facebook.com/petie.mccarty 


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