Beneath the Night by Jen Colly

Beneath the Night

The Cities Below, Book Three

Jen Colly

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Kensington/Lyrical

Date of Publication: April 18, 2017

ISBN: 9781516101481

ASIN: B01JEJDHFM

Number of pages: 200

Word Count: 71,000

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Tagline: Sometimes survival means surrendering everything . . .

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Book Description:

Lord Navarre Casteel wakes from a long sleep to find the vampire city he rules forever changed and his future in the hands of a mysterious beauty who offers her life for his. Fiery-haired Cat survives his feeding, fueling Navarre’s body and mind-as well as his suspicion that she is one of the Forbidden-a lethal mix of vampire and human blood. Yet that doesn’t stop the throb of Navarre’s desire, the feeling that she is destined to be his mate, to hell with consequences. . . .

A solitary fighter sworn to protect the children in her charge, Cat never expects to feel so much for Navarre in the face of his savage feeding. Which is why his offer of protection is nearly her undoing. For how can she let down her guard when she has always walked alone? But Cat has never faced an enemy like the one she faces now, never felt such a powerful need to surrender to the force of love . . .

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Excerpt:

This was the royal storage, and the Guardians would be here any moment. Treasures from all over Europe had been covered, hidden from view, while others lay exposed, collecting layers of dust. A gold, jewel-encrusted urn half the size of a man glinted in the dim light seeping from beneath the door. A golden yellow chaise in Greek styling was half hidden beneath a sheet, the craftsmanship elaborate. Yes, Savard grew nervous when Guardians were scheduled to enter this room, but theft was not his fear, nor was the handling of such priceless artifacts.

He’d have given his life to protect what was beyond the row of five large French curio cabinets in the corner of the attic. Savard slipped into Spirit long enough to move through a curio, and once inside the makeshift seclusion, returned to his true form. Here, easily hidden behind the towering cabinets, was the most priceless treasure in Balinese.

Navarre Casteel, the true lord of Balinese, lay motionless on a small bed, trapped in a deep healing sleep. Not waking, not dying.

Navarre had fallen in the demon attack nearly seven years ago. A demon’s blade had pierced his chest, and from what they could tell, nicked his heart. Navarre had slipped into a healing sleep, his body shutting down to repair from the inside out. After that point, nothing could be done to help him. Their lord would have to heal on his own, or not at all.

Every day since, Savard expected his lord’s death, even planned for the loss. It never happened. Months had passed. Years. Seven years of total stillness.

The padlock outside the door rattled, the heavy hinge laid back against the door. Then the large wooden slide latch was moved, wood scraping wood, until the handle hit the end of its range with a solid thud.

Savard knelt beside the bed and took his lord’s lifeless hand in both of his, ready to weather the brief intrusion, prepared to Spirit Navarre away should it become necessary.

The hinges on the thick door creaked as it opened. The Guardians stepped inside, flipped on the lights. Boots scuffed the uneven floorboards beneath their feet, and long, purposeful strides quickly carried them deeper inside the room.

There it is,” Dyre said, his young, smooth voice trapped in the low ceiling of the attic. “It doesn’t appear heavy, only awkward.”

Why are we putting an empty birdcage outside the dining hall?” Cat said, suspicion bleeding through her tone.

The presence of these two was unexpected. As arena Guardians, Titus and Graydon often drew the short straw, being sent on random missions that sometimes involved moving furniture. Not today. Somehow Dyre and Cat had taken their place.

Don’t ask, just do,” Dyre said.

Ugh.” She exaggerated the guttural sound. “I hate your motto. It’s stupid.”

It’s not my motto,” Dyre said, the effort of sliding wooden furniture across the floor temporarily halting his speech. “And you seem to like it just fine when you’re the one barking orders.”

Fair enough,” she said, relenting.

Savard smiled slightly, shaking his head. In public those two barely spoke a word to each other, and after the parade of Guardian partners Cat had gone through, he never would have thought Dyre would be the one she’d accept. But then, Dyre was one of the few able to bring her unpredictable temper down to at least a simmer.

Here, take this end,” Dyre directed. “I’ll go down the stairs backward.”

You think I can’t go backward?” Cat snapped at him, instantly geared up for a fight, offended her partner might find her lacking.

No,” he said calmly, his tone hinting at simple honesty. “I think you’re short.”

If Cat gave him a response, Savard didn’t hear it. Boots scuffled across the floor, the lights went out and the door closed, the bolt slid home, and the padlock clunked into place. The room was left in silence once again. Savard peeked through a crack between the dressers to make certain they’d left.

Turning Navarre’s hand over, Savard pressed his fingertips to his lord’s exposed inner wrist. As he did with each visit, Savard searched for a pulse, craved confirmation that Navarre still lived. Beneath his fingers, the normally slow, lurching rhythm of Navarre’s pulse seemed to have sped up. Not rapid or racing, but simply stronger. This could be his body’s last surge of energy before death. Savard looked at Navarre’s face, fearing it might be the last time.

Navarre, still deep in a healing sleep, turned his face slightly toward the door. He wasn’t dying. He was waking.

Oh, God. It’s her.” Jaw slack, Savard sank back onto his heels.

He shoved his hair off his face. How had he not seen this connection? When Cat had first arrived on the night of the attack, he hadn’t known what to do with her. He’d put her in one of Navarre’s extra homes. That home was on the floor beneath this attic, not terribly far from where Navarre lay sleeping.

Most vampires could recognize the beckoning call of their fated mate. Supposedly, though he’d never seen it happen, the presence of your mate could even negate the deadly call of the sun. Her proximity was most likely the only reason Navarre still clung to life. Cat must be his mate. If so, then she was the key to Navarre’s awakening. Ironically, her continued presence in the city was contingent upon Navarre allowing her to stay once he woke.

Plans quickly took form now that Savard at long last had a clear solution. If Navarre’s condition was going to change, it would happen tonight. He would make it happen tonight.

While this new development should bring elation, Savard’s skin crawled with a morbid anticipation. Something unstoppable was happening in the world around him, a life-altering force headed his way. He’d felt this same unease the night he’d become lord, an awareness that he balanced at the top of a mountain and would soon fall. He just didn’t know in which direction.

~

About the Author:

Jen Colly is the rare case of an author who rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years. Now she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing her first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are pirates and vampires.

She lives in Ohio with her supportive husband, two kids, one big fluffy dog, and four rescued cats.

http://www.jencolly.com/

http://www.jencolly.com/the-jen-mind-blog

https://twitter.com/collyjen

https://www.facebook.com/jen.colly.1/

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30744658-bound

~

Tour giveaway

5 ecopies of Beneath the Night

3 ecopies Bound (The Cities Below, book 2)

 

 


New PNR and Specials @ The Wild Rose Press

Shadows of Quartz by Nicholas Milano

John is having nightmares. Something is coming, something dark and powerful. Memories and shadows are pulling together and gathering a new strength.

When John turns to the one person he could confide in, he finds Milo being elusive and deceptive. He understands everyone has their own secrets, but even surrounded by friends, he’s never felt more alone.

Can John be the one thing that holds them all together? Or are they destined to fall apart, letting secrets and lies break the bonds of their friendship?

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~

 

Daemon Uprising by Mariah Ankenman

The world of the supernatural is real and living among us, a fact Tabitha Culver knows all too well. Ten years ago, evil supernatural creatures she never thought existed attacked Tabitha. Now, she works for the Supernatural Council to defend humanity against the malevolent forces unknowingly hunting them. A new darkness has risen up in the form of Kakodaemons. Tabitha, a by-the-books straight arrow is teamed up with the Euadaemon Kiernan, a bend-the-rules, sexy bad boy. With Tabitha and Kiernan the sparks fly, sometimes literally! To take down the bad guys, they have to put their differences aside and work together. However, a dark secret and sizzling attraction could prove to be distractions they can’t afford. Tabitha must learn to trust her partner, and her heart, in order to eliminate this new threat to humanity.

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Challenging Destiny by Cherie Colyer

Logan Ragsdale and his younger sister, Ariana, have been marked, chosen to be unwilling participants in a war between angels and demons.

Logan can sense something’s not quite right. Like an unexpected chill on a summer’s day, he can feel the unseen closing in. He’s had these feelings before and, each time, someone close to him died. He’s afraid this time it might just be Ariana.

Logan’s fears are soon confirmed when he discovers their new friends aren’t human, but rather representatives from Heaven and Hell sent to Earth to ensure he and Ariana accept their roles in an ancient prophecy. Demons want Logan to open the gates of Hell. Ariana has the power to stop them, but if she chooses to side with Heaven to spare the lives of thousands of innocent people, she’ll damn her brother for eternity.

Together, they must derail the biblical event if they hope to save themselves and the future of mankind…but what price are they willing to pay to keep the other safe?

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Damned by LM Pruitt

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Damned
LM Pruitt

Release Date February 15

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Book Description:

From the writer of the international bestselling WINGED series comes a look at the other side… where it’s good to be bad….

I was thirty years old when I chose to die–or rather to give up my soul.

Eternal youth, endless money… and sex.

Mind blowing, life changing, otherworldly sex.

For all those things, being damned is a small price to pay.

WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS GRAPHIC LANGUAGE AND EXTREMELY GRAPHIC SEX SCENES. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

~

Excerpt:
“I’m Lacey Jackson.” She stuck out one hand, something in her eyes daring me to not take it. “And you are…?”
“Julie Watson.” I took her hand, making my reluctance more than obvious. The second my skin made contact with hers, a spark of energy shot through me so violently I couldn’t help but gasp. Swallowing, I said, “What brings you to Savannah?”
“Oh, I’m here for work.” Without releasing my hand, she slipped out of her seat and slid in to the one across from me. Leaning in, she lowered her voice and said, “I was fully prepared for it to be another dull, routine trip but now… well, now I think I’m glad I got assigned this route.”
“Oh.” The low fluttering in my stomach wasn’t unfamiliar—I was far from a virgin and I’d not only done Mardi Gras and Spring Break in Miami but I’d also spent a month in Europe after my college graduation. But this… this was something different. And not because it was caused by a woman.
This was… raw. Visceral. Almost feral. Like she’d tapped in to some hunger I wasn’t even aware I’d had and now that I did the idea it would go unfulfilled was almost too much to bear.
“You should come work with me.” She lifted our joined hands, brushing her lips over my knuckles. “I have a feeling you would be… amazing.”
“What?” It was as if all my attention was focused on the small bit of skin where she’d kissed me, tendrils of lust spooling out through the rest of my body in lazy ribbons. “What do you… what do you do?”
“I collect souls.” Her eyes darkened, her breath catching in her throat and I realized for the first time I wasn’t the only one affected by our contact. “Or rather the energy from them. The actual soul is taken up by someone else—it doesn’t matter, the details can be explained later.”
“You collect….” I trailed off, part of me sure she was joking and an even larger part of me sure she wasn’t. “Really. Why?”
“Because I can.” She flicked her tongue over her lips and I sucked in a shallow breath. “Because it’s fun.”
“But that would make you….”
“A demon, yes.” This time when she smiled, a dimple appeared in her left cheek and I was caught with the sudden urge to kiss it. “More specifically a succubus.” My confusion must have shown because she laughed. “I fuck people for their energy—sometimes to death, sometimes not. It all depends.”
“And you want to do that to me?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head, her hair sliding across her shoulders, the tips curling over the swell of her breasts. “I told you. I want you to work with me and my sisters and Lilith.” She leaned closer and I breathed deep, the scent of her perfume almost painfully exotic. “I want you to join the ranks of the Morning Star and spend eternity tempting the weak and the wicked.”
What she was suggesting was lunacy. Madness. Even if I believed her, the idea of giving up my life to be some sort of demonic minion was ridiculous. Although….
What would I be giving up? A lifetime spent catering to David’s whims, denying myself the things I truly enjoyed because it would be bad for his reputation or his political chances or his weight? A lifetime attempting to please my parents and knowing it would never happen because nothing would ever overshadow Joanne’s sacrifice? A lifetime being nothing but the substitute?
What, exactly, would I be giving up?
“Jules.” The nickname I hated hearing from David sounded and felt like a caress coming from Lacey. Lifting our hands again, she ran her tongue over one of my fingertips before nipping lightly. Her voice was heavy with promise when she spoke again. “Come play with me.”
“Yes.” I breathed out the single word before leaning over the table and crushing my mouth to hers.
Who needed a soul anyway?

~

About the Author:

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L.M. Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She knows this because she’s killed bamboo. Twice. She is the author of the Winged series, the Plaisir Coupable series, Jude Magdalyn series, the Moon Rising series, and Taken: A Frankie Post Novel.
http://www.lmpruitt.org
https://www.facebook.com/pages/LM-Pruitt/364776895104
https://twitter.com/lmpruitt
http://www.amazon.com/L.M.-Pruitt/e/B00427WOW4/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4320796.L_M_Pruitt

~


Rescued by the Wolf Kristal Hollis

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Rescued by the Wolf

Wahyas of Walker’s Run Series

Book Two

Kristal Hollis

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Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne

Date of Publication: March 1, 2017

ISBN: 0373139837

ASIN: B01JBQ3HQW

Number of pages: 304

Word Count: 74,000

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Book Description:

She’s not afraid to run with his wolf.

When a poacher killed his mate, Rafe Wyatt lost his future. While the Wahyas of Walker’s Run have been pulling him back from the brink, he’s certain he won’t have another chance at love. That is, until Grace comes to town.

Grace Olsen is a woman without roots. That’s exactly how she likes it, until a sojourn in a small, close-knit Appalachian community gives her a new vision of what home could be—and so does Rafe. He was supposed to be nothing more than a casual lover, just as wary of commitment as she is. When their raw attraction becomes something deeper, more complex, they could be looking at a new future together. But someone close to them both would rather see Grace dead than let her be with the man—and the wolf—she’s grown to love.

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Excerpt:

Rafe, wake up!”

He didn’t move, snort, or otherwise acknowledge her presence.

Grace eased off the Murphy bed, slid her feet into pink slippers, maneuvered between the coffee table and couch, and reached over Rafe to the alarm clock balanced on the top frame of the couch, the LED face flipped so that the time flashed into the cushion instead of into the room.

In a sudden whirl, she slammed onto the couch seat cushions. Rafe’s steely fingers clamped around her wrists, pinning them over her head. She stared into icy, cobalt blue eyes that would’ve stolen her breath if she hadn’t lost all air when he plastered his hard, hot body onto hers.

The short crop of his auburn hair stuck out in different directions. A pillow crease cut across one high cheekbone and dipped into the reddish stubble dusting his strong jaw. His firm, full lips would look much more kissable if he smiled.

Squared shoulders rose above a sculpted chest swirled with soft tufts of hair, and a quarter-sized scar marred the taut, tan skin over his right ribs.

Her gaze slid over the ripples of his abs and the sharp indents of his hips. She couldn’t follow the treasure line that arrowed down from his belly button because he was lodged intimately against her pelvis.

A giddy heat rushed her body and struck her with the acute awareness of a virile man in his prime.

“Never sneak up on me, Grace.” Rafe’s laser-intense eyes burned holes straight through her body. “It’s dangerous.”

No doubt.

From his deeply etched scowl to his silent, panther-like movements, she needed no further warnings. He was dangerous on all levels.

——————-

Rafe sat on the couch in the living area of the suite, opened the fast food bag and methodically set three wrapped sandwiches, an extra-large order of fries, napkins and a plastic spoon on the small round table.

“How you can eat like that and not have an ounce of fat?” She knew he didn’t because she’d seen every inch of him.

“I run almost every night.” Rafe unwrapped the first sandwich, wadded the paper and dropped it in the bag.

“You don’t look like a runner. They’re usually lean and lanky.” Grace pulled a bottle of water from the small in-room refrigerator and placed it on the table for Rafe. “You’re thicker, more solid.”

Elbows on his knees, holding the sandwich in front of his face, he took a giant bite, chewed slowly and swallowed. “You think I’m dense and slow?” His gaze lifted to her with a challenge in his eyes.

“No.” She joined him on the couch. “Think of greyhounds and rottweilers. Greyhounds are sleek, elegant and fast. Rottweilers are—”

“Blocky and stout?”

Neither of which described Rafe.

“I was going for strong and durable.” She picked up the spoon and shoveled a big scoop of delicious, soft, vanilla ice cream drowning in hot fudge into her mouth.

Her entire body cheered.

“I could give a greyhound a run for its life.”

“Keep eating junk and you won’t.”

Eying the sundae in her hand, he halted before taking another bite of his sandwich. “Who’s the pot and who’s the kettle in this conversation?”

“Hey. This is my only vice.” She savored another bite. “Ummmm.”

“What about coffee?”

“Isn’t a vice. Coffee is as essential as oxygen.”

“If you stopped breathing, which would you rather have, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or a cup of coffee poured down your throat?” Rafe’s gaze lingered on her mouth.

Her lips tingled. She gave her spoon a slow, sensual lick. “Depends on who’s providing the rescue breathing.”

FREE SAMPLE CHAPTERS: https://goo.gl/K5t5Ou

~

About the Author:

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Raised in a small Southern town, Kristal Hollis has spent most of her life helping people and animals. When a family medical situation resulted in a work sabbatical, she began penning deliciously dark paranormal romances to escape the real-life drama. After the crisis passed, her passion for writing love stories continued. An RWA 2015 Golden Heart® Finalist, Kristal lives with her husband and two rescued dogs at the edge of the enchanted forest that inspires her stories.

www.KristalHollis.com

www.facebook.com/KristalHollisBooks

www.twitter.com/KristalHollis

www.goodreads.com/kristalhollis

www.amazon.com/author/kristalhollis

~

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$25 Amazon gift card

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Buried Passion – Official Release Day

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Buried Passion

The Bonded, Book III

Marianne Willis

Rating: Hot

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Page Count: 288

Word Count: 72190

978-1-5092-1201-9 Paperback

978-1-5092-1202-6 Digital

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BLURB:

The choice was simple; leave the vampire out to fry. Ian Jefferson despises the species with every fiber of his being. Instead, he rescues the woman who attacked him, and brings her to safety. Ian knows he shouldn’t be lusting over the strange leech, but is so close to going against all he believes to subdue the passionate urges Rachel has stirred since the moment they met.

Rachel Johnson cannot recall a single thing about her life. All she is sure of is she craves blood. She never expected her meal to fight back or be a werewolf. Experiencing confusing flashbacks, she needs to know if her memories are real or just delusions.

With the truth unravelling, and her life in danger, can Rachel keep her darkest secrets buried and still give into Ian, knowing she’s not his bonded and will have to eventually give him up?

EXCERPT:

The stubborn woman returned, guns blazing. “And I told you, that is not happening.”

A careless hand flicked the air. “Right, I’m a menace to society. Bite me!”

Arms crossed, he clenched his jaw. “That’s what I’m afraid you’ll do to others.”

“Since we’re being honest here, why not tell me the real reason you’re afraid?”

As though caught red-handed, his body tensed. But he had nothing to hide. “What are you talking about?”

Her silent gaze locked with his. “You’re afraid you have the hots for a bloodsucker?”

The muscles in his cheeks hurt as he spared a mock grin. “Well, aren’t you a modest little leech.”

A raised brow and the perfect curve of her tilted chin met his mockery with confidence. “You’re covering the look of lust with detest, but it’s not working. I can smell you.” She sidestepped the coffee table and ambled toward him. Even in a tucked polo and denims, she sauntered forward as if in sheer lingerie. “You’re hot, you’re bothered, and you’re fighting it.” With each declaration, she stepped closer. His heart pounded louder in his ears.

Mere inches separated them now. She angled her neck. That sensual mouth a whisper from his. He lost himself, drowned in her hazel depths.

“You don’t know what’s more frustrating, the fact I’m a vampire, or that you want me.”

When did her arms snake his neck? She arched into him. The delicious contact stole his sensibility.

Warm, feminine curves met the hardness of his body. Ian hissed. A perfect match, male and female, both from two strong lines of species physically ransomed by an instinct as old as time…raw attraction. “Don’t flatter yourself, vampire. You’re not my type.” Dammit, his low, rumbling voice didn’t sound in the least convincing.

A gentle fingertip danced along his jawline. “The feeling’s mutual, Wolfy.” She stroked from his chin to the top of his chest. “Besides, who says we have to like each other?”

All reason escaped his mind as he brushed a thumb across her lip. He intended to kiss her. He had to. How could this perfect specimen of a woman be so close and he not kiss her? His mouth watered, gums tender. The slope of her neck drew his attention. Instinct screamed for him to sink his teeth into her skin, sample her rusty sweetness.

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OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

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As a full time housewife and mother, Marianne Willis daydreams in her spare time and turns those dreams into novels. Happily married to the biggest smart-ass on earth, she lives in Sydney, Australia and can’t imagine living anyplace else. Aside from writing, she enjoys spending time with family, friends, and her church community. Lover of Lychee Martini’s and antipasto platters, and a big fan of romance novels, chick-flicks, and her crazy best friend, Marianne enjoys the real world as much as her inspirational imaginations.

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Fever by Lola Taylor

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Fever

Blood Moon Rising, Book One

Lola Taylor

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Genre: Werewolf PNR

Publisher: Indigo Dreamer Press

Date of Publication: February, 2014 (Fourth Edition, October, 2016)

ASIN: B00ING5PN0

Number of pages: 114

Word Count: 33k

 

Book Description:

When the Blood Moon rises, the wolves come out to play… and find their mates.

Danica has about given up on love. In a last-ditch attempt at finding “the one,” she agrees to a blind date through an online dating service. But instead of finding roses and romance, she finds someone intent on killing her. That is, until the mysterious, brooding Gage shows up to save her….

Gage is running out of time to find a mate. If the Blood Moon sets before he can find her, he’ll lose the rank of packmaster—and the peace within the pack he’s worked so hard to obtain. When he saves a luscious blonde in the parking lot of a bar, he has no idea she is his mate—until he Marks her with his touch.

Determined to keep her safe at any cost, Gage whisks Danica away into a hidden world full of lust, unlikely love, and treachery. Someone’s put a hit on his mate, and he’s hell-bent on finding out who, all while the Blood Moon looms closer, threatening to destroy his chances at true love forever. That is, if something—or someone—doesn’t kill the woman he’s falling for first.

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CHAPTER 1

All right, it was official—her date had stood her up.

Honestly, it shouldn’t surprise her. Seriously, who took someone on their first date to a bar?

And not even a nice bar. Howl was anything but swanky. With wooden floors that looked like they hadn’t seen polish—or a broom—in a decade, posters of couples in crude positions all over the walls, and the stench of sweat, beer, and sex in the smoky air, it looked like a gigantic version of a man cave.

Speaking of men, there were entirely too many rough-looking individuals here. Admittedly, it made her pause when she drove up and discovered there were more motorcycles than cars parked outside. She loved chrome and fast wheels as much as the next girl, but all the, er, “decorations”—animal skulls, hides, etc.—adorning said motorcycles gave her the heebie-jeebies.

She took another long sip of her beer. What the hell had she been thinking, agreeing to meet a total stranger at a place like this?

Because you’ve been lonely since Seth broke up with you and moved away.

Being the only person left in her high school town, the only one in her old circle of friends who hadn’t gone to college or gotten married, Danica had started to feel pretty damn unwanted. That definitely showed in the extra pounds she’d packed on since the “Epic Breakup.” Since the only people left in the small town of Moonstruck, Arkansas, were either the young or the old, it was sparse pickings for friends, and even slimmer prospects for dating. And since her empty bank account said moving was not an option, she’d turned to online dating.

They worked,” the advertisements said. Countless people on the commercials preached, “I met my soul mate online, and we got married, like, instantly.”

In hindsight, she should have known better. If history had taught her anything, it was “Karma isn’t going to make it easy for you.”

She smiled wryly. “Karma, fifty, Danica, zero.”

Taking another swig of her nearly empty beer, she looked around. For the most part, the men had watched her with curiosity, but they hadn’t come over yet. People seemed to be keeping their distance, which she found odd. She thought she looked damn cute in her tight jeggings, black ankle boots, and a black see-through tunic that showed off her black lace bra. The bra alone should have at least earned her a “get-to-know-you” beer from somebody. But alas, here she was, sitting by herself at a bar, waiting for a date that obviously was never going to come.

Shouting erupted from across the room as one burly man threw down his pool stick and shoved another man, nearly spilling beer all over the pool table.

From the dais near the table, a tall man stood from the shadows, his silhouette suggesting broad shoulders and a lean torso. The dim lighting revealed dark jeans, a button-down shirt, and a dinner jacket—not the typical biker bar garb the other men wore.

He also wasn’t nearly as stacked as the two guys about to go at it in front of him, yet they took one look at the man and instantly backed down.

Huh. This place was getting weirder by the second.

Danica felt her arms prickle with the sensation of being watched. She looked up to find the mystery man had stepped into the light—and was looking right at her.

Her breath caught.

Holy. Hell.

Okay, the lighting in here sucked, but she could definitely see a defined jawline, a straight nose, and light brown hair that had been styled with a bit of gel. Despite his Adonis looks and more fashionable wardrobe, he didn’t look any less masculine for it. If anything, it made him look sexier.

Danica sighed, feeling heat building below her navel.

She blinked. Wow, this was an all-time record for her. She’d gone from falling head over heels for a man in a few weeks—i.e. Seth, who’d been a jerk—to lusting for one at first sight. She blamed the fact she hadn’t had sex in six months.

But she wasn’t about to bring a man home with her tonight. She didn’t want a one-night stand. She wanted romance, flowers. She wanted “the fairy tale” as Julia Roberts had said.

And something told her she wasn’t going to get that with any of the guys here. Might as well cut her losses and bail.

She’d started to take another sip of her beer with the intent to finish it when that pleasant tingling sensation went up her spine. Unable to stop herself, she turned around.

The handsome stranger smiled at her.

And dammit if she didn’t smile back.

***

Gage’s inner wolf grinned as the luscious blonde tried covering the smile she’d flashed him. Normally, human women didn’t do it for him, but this one had a sense of spirit about her that was incredibly alluring. The fact her top left little to the imagination in regards to her plump breasts only made him harder.

God, he was so freaking horny. Ever since the mating heat had taken hold of him at the beginning of the month, his cock sprang to life at the mere sight of a little cleavage. It was like going through puberty all over again, a hell he never wished to relive. The heat had only intensified as the month drew to a close. In exactly one week, the Blood Moon would rise, sealing him forever with his mate the first time they made love.

Now, if only he could find his mate.

His best friend and bodyguard—as if he needed one—came up beside him. He was also his brother. The slightly older wolf wasn’t wearing as much metal tonight as he usually did. His ears were only partially lined with studs, and he’d taken his tongue piercing out. Ink crawled up the wolf’s massive arms, which he showed off in a black tank top, despite the chilly autumn weather. Since werewolves ran hotter than humans, due to their animal nature—and especially during mating season—they rarely worried about the change of temperature.

His bodyguard, Nikolas, nodded in the direction of the bar. “You’ve been eyeing that female since she walked through the door.”

And?” Gage raised a brow in challenge.

Nik shrugged. “And I can’t blame ya. She’s hot for a human. Got soft curves too. Wouldn’t be like banging one of our she-wolves, all hard muscle and bones.”

Gage’s cock throbbed with desire at the thought of feeling the woman below him, of his hands moving over her soft, smooth skin. He’d never been with a human before. He wasn’t the type to hold back during sex, and the she-wolves were tough by nature. Humans were fragile. Breakable. He’d feel guilty if he injured a woman during love-making.

Yet the thought of making her dizzy with pleasure never left his mind as he watched the woman down the rest of her beer and snag the bartender to cash out her tab.

Nik chewed on his lip ring. “So I take it you’ve had no luck with the last were-princess I brought you, Your Highness?”

Gage scowled. He knew Nik was aware he hated being called that, which was exactly why Nik did it. Sometimes, he was as childish as a pup. “I’ve… met with all the princesses you’ve brought me, but alas, I have yet to mark any of them.” Saying it aloud like that, voicing the possibility he might lose his pack because of some stupid law, turned his blood to ice.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Nik studied him, then elbowed him lightly. “Think nothing of it. You’ll find your mate before this month’s Blood Moon sets.”

I have to,” Gage muttered darkly. An unmated packmaster was not worthy of calling himself a King of Wolves. After at last claiming the position of Alpha over Malachite (a.k.a. “that sadistic son of a bitch”) only this past month, Gage couldn’t afford to be demoted for the sheer fact he couldn’t find a worthy female to be his mate. But he didn’t get to choose—the magic in his blood did.

His attention snapped forward as the woman, casting him one last look, donned her jacket and purse, then started walking toward the exit. His blue eyes trailed her, unblinking, his heart speeding up. He took a step forward, and Nik grasped his arm.

Best let that fish return to the sea,” he said. “Your efforts are better spent on courting other royal she-wolves going through their Fevers, considering the circumstances.”

I know.”

Still, he found himself leaning toward the woman, wanting to go with her.

What was the matter with him?

A dark figure moved within the shadows, detaching itself from the wall and following the woman out the door.

Gage’s hackles rose. “Excuse me,” he said, shoving Nik’s hand aside as he stepped off the dais and toward the door.

Nik swore then rubbed his temples. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Following a gut instinct and feeling half-mad for it, Gage continued his deliberate pace toward the exit, senses wired for danger.

Then he heard her scream.

 

About the Author:

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Lola Taylor” is a pen name created for the romances I can’t show my grandma without blushing. My favorite genre to write is romantic suspense, usually involving hot werewolves, warlocks, or any other type of paranormal creature. Keep the action hot and the romance hotter—that’s my motto! I’m a horror film junkie, I still love Halloween as an adult (seriously, I think I get more excited for it than some kids do), and what precious spare time I have is spent with my family, reading (everything from sci fi to middle grade), playing the flute, painting pretty pictures, or screwing around on Pinterest or Etsy. Hailing from the South, I currently live in the Midwest with five fur babies and my hubby.

I’m pretty easy-going. If you want to get to know me or just say “hi,” you can find me on Facebook, Google + , Pinterest,and Goodreads.

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Website: http://www.lolataylorbooks.com/

Newsletter: http://goo.gl/3QDmao

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lolataylorbooks

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lolataylorbooks/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7391457.Lola_Taylor

Google +: https://plus.google.com/b/112596798164913586645/+Lolataylorbookslolataylorbooks/posts

 

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Mates and Mistletoe”

A Blood Moon Rising story

By

Lola Taylor

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When Blake reluctantly agrees to go to a pack Christmas party, the last thing on his mind is finding his mate. But fate—and possibly Santa—has other plans…

***

Blake observed the party with a look of supreme distaste. Crescent Manor had been decked out in blue and white twinkle lights, silver garland, and sparkly tinsel. Just looking at it made his eyes hurt. Not to mention the smell. Oh, God, if he ever had to smell pine, cinnamon, or pumpkin spice whatever-the-hell-it-was-called again, it would be too soon. Being a werewolf royally sucked sometimes, mainly the enhanced sense of smell. And this place—his damn home for the past fifteen years—was doing nothing but reminding him why he hated the holidays.

Everybody here seemed to have found a date or had brought their mates. All but him.

It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t find a mate. Hell, he’d tried dating. And rutting. That part he especially enjoyed. But the Mating Mark, the mystical symbol that designated his soul mate, had yet to appear on anyone. Which was supremely frustrating.

Damn, did the universe hate him that much? He was thirty-five, for shit’s sake. And he was beginning to wonder if, maybe, he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life.

His best friend and fellow Moonstruck Pack member, Ryan, walked up to him, interrupting his scowling. Ryan had gotten a little more into the Christmas spirit, wearing a red button down and black slacks. Blake, on the other hand, had gone with a Metallica T-shirt that should have been thrown away ten years ago, a pair of rugged jeans, and his shit-kickers. Like hell he was dressing up for a party he didn’t want to attend in the first place. These people had been lucky he’d shown up to this damn circus. If it were up to him, he would’ve stayed up in his room, reading. Yeah, yeah, despite appearances and general “don’t give a shit” demeanor, he loved a good Brandon Sanderson novel.

Ryan surveyed him with a knowing twinkle in his eye and nudged him. “Someone piss in your champagne?”

This ain’t champagne. I hate that bubbly shit. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a Guinness. Poured it in this fancy glass so Alara doesn’t yell at me.” Alara, the queen of the Moonstruck Pack and one of the newest additions to their ever-expanding family, was the only reason he’d deigned to show up to this shit show. One, because she was a hell of a leader and business woman. In the past few months since she’d been here, she’d increased profits from the pack’s real estate business by fifty percent. Blake, loving the shit out of math and money, could appreciate that. Especially since he was the pack’s accountant.

Two, he downright respected Alara. Not only was she smart, level-headed, and beautiful, she was into epic fantasy. After her mate, Nik, convinced her to binge-watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy and all six seasons of Game of Thrones, she was hooked to the genre. Knowing he was a big fan himself, she’d asked to borrow his wide collection of fantasy books. He’d happily obliged, and the two of them had become fast friends.

Friends or not, however, this was downright torture. But it wouldn’t be right, for political or friendships’ sakes, for him not to attend. Alara was one of the few people he considered a true friend. Plus, he was the pack’s accountant, and he loved his job. He wasn’t about to spit in their faces by not spending Christmas Eve in hell, er, at a party.

Ryan was quiet a moment. “You’ve been holding that wall up all night. Gonna come talk to some of us?”

Nah. People seem too busy sharing pup pictures and dancing with their mates.”

Ryan tried not to look ashamed. He’d found his own mate, Stephanie, about a month back. Blake had been both thrilled for his bud and disgruntled their bachelor evenings were coming to an end.

Blake rolled his eyes, giving Ryan a dry smile. “You don’t have to hide your happiness—or your mate—from me, man. I’m glad you found Steph.”

Ryan’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he looked out at the dancing crowd. They were in the parlor. The furniture had been pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A gorgeous brunette danced with a group of friends. Her face lit up when she saw Ryan, and she smiled and waved.

A stupid-happy grin, one that Blake couldn’t help feeling jealous of, lit up Ryan’s face as he waved back.

He and Blake made small talk after that, with Blake checking the clock every couple of minutes. God, had time stopped? Shit, he loved his best friend, but he couldn’t take much more of this. Every second here reminded him of how alone he felt, and exacerbated his fear that he would never find someone to share his life with.

After a conversation about hockey, another of Blake’s true loves, Blake said, “Hey, man, I’m gonna grab another beer and get some air. Care to join?”

A slow song started, and people went for their dates or mates. Stephanie started to approach. “Nah, man. I owe Steph a dance. Promised her before we came down. I’ll catch up with you later for that beer.”

Holding you to that.” He said “hello” to Stephanie before slipping from the room.

After snagging another beer from the kitchen, he let himself outside, onto the back patio. Nobody was out there. One, because it was freaking freezing, even for a werewolf. Their body temperatures ran hotter than that of a normal human, but cold was cold. And the air was practically subzero.

His breath fogged as he looked up at the stars, at the open sky, full moon, and silvery tips of trees in the forest surrounding the property. This place was beautiful. Always had been, even when it had sometimes felt like a prison during Malachite’s reign.

Blake shivered, banishing thoughts about that psychopath to the recesses of his mind. After filing those bloody, dark memories away in the archive of “Shit He’d Rather Not Think About,” he took another swig of his beer about the same time a husky voice said, “Taking a break from the glitter festival, too?”

Blake nearly choked on his beer as he struggled to swallow and inhale at the same time. Whirling, he could barely make out the curvy figure standing in the shadows. Then she stepped into a pool of moonlight, and he forgot how to breathe.

Holy hell.

She was gorgeous, like something from a dream. With curves that would make Marilyn Monroe jealous and long, satiny blond hair that tumbled over her shoulders in waves, she looked like a siren come to steal him away into the night. Her dress was black, shimmery, and skin-tight, clinging to her like a second skin. Her four-inch crimson pumps made her nearly as tall as his six foot five.

A wave of desire made his skin hot, and an assortment of lustful thoughts filled his mind.

Down boy.

Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight and angled his body in such a way he hoped it would mask any obvious signs of his growing desire.

Could it be a mating fever, the time when all a werewolf could think about was sex? Possibly. Then again, sex was usually at the back of his thoughts, especially since he hadn’t had any in the past two months. Work had simply kept him too busy.

But now, in the presence of this dream girl, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about how soft her skin would feel or what her full, cherry-red lips would taste like.

As if sensing what he was thinking, she slowly smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

***

Download the full story for free and find out how to get one of Lola’s full-length, standalone werewolf romances for free! (Limited time offer.) Click here to download “Mates and Mistletoe” for free!

A note from Lola: Hello! I use a service called BookFunnel to deliver my books. If you have trouble getting this book, just tap the Help Me link at the top of the book download page and their friendly support team will help you get your book!

 

Giveaway Prize:

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All-New Kindle E-reader – White, 6″ Glare-Free Touchscreen Display, Wi-Fi – Includes Special Offers & a digital copy of all Lola’s books

Winner will be randomly selected and announced on Lola’s website and social media on Christmas Eve (December 24th). Ebook prizes only, no paperbacks. Official Terms of Service and Contest Rules will be listed on the giveaway page, including who may enter (Worldwide Limited—Some Shipping Restrictions Apply).

Giveaway Open to Contestants in: United States, Canada, Australia, United Kingdom, Turkey, Germany, Belgium, and Ireland

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Fangs for the Holidays Giveaway

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Blood Ice and Oak Moon by Marsha A Moore

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Blood Ice and Oak Moon

Coon Hollow Coven Tales, Book Three

Marsha A Moore

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Print Length: 211 pages

Publication Date: October 3, 2016

ASIN: B01LWS4V2G

Genre: PNR

 

Book Description:

Esme Underhill is about to discover a darkness hidden inside her that could destroy her chance for independence and possibly kill her.

Esme’s mother took her young daughter away from Southern Indiana’s Coon Hollow Coven to prevent her from learning about the unusual witchcraft she had inherited. When Esme is twenty-seven, her beloved Grammy Flora passes away and leaves her property in the Hollow to her granddaughter. With this opportunity to remake her life and gain independence, Esme attempts to emulate Grammy Flora as a wildwood mystic who relies on the hedge world of faeries to locate healing herbs. But fae are shrewd traders. When they open their world to her, she must meet the unknown malevolence of her birthright.

Thayne, the handsome king of the fae Winter Court, faces his own struggle to establish autonomy as a new regent. He is swept into the tempest of Esme’s unfolding powers, a dangerous threat to his court. His sworn duty is to protect his people, despite Esme’s beauty and allure, which tear at his resolve.

Both Esme’s and Thayne’s dreams of personal freedom are lost…unless they can trust each other and overcome surmounting dangers.

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Amazon

 

Excerpt from Chapter One: Winter Began

Dear Miss Rebecca Esmeralda Underhill,

Please accept our deepest sympathies concerning the loss of your grandmother, Flora Esmeralda Freestone. She was much loved and well-respected in our community.

As per her documented wishes, the ownership of her property on 10510 East Lost Branch Run passes to you. This transfer has been filed in our office. At the request of High Priest Logan Dennehy, all council members have voted to reinstate you as a member of Coon Hollow Coven after your absence of twenty years.

However, despite Coon Hollow Coven being your birthplace, a majority indicated the lapsed time was sufficient cause to withhold transfer of Ms. Freestone’s ceremonial standing to you, which customarily would accompany a property transference to blood kin of adult age. For explanation of how you may attain ceremonial approval in your name, please visit the council office at 50013 Owls Tail Creek Road.

Enclosed, please find pamphlets describing the expected dress and personal property code of our coven, which adheres to the time period in which the coven was founded in 1935. This is to best protect our witchcraft traditions.

Sincerely,

Nathan Wells

Coon Hollow Coven Council, secretary

Esme’s gaze fixed on the words that acknowledged her as the property owner. She’d never lived alone. First her mom, then a roommate and finally Doug. Esme’s shoulders straightened and chest lifted with strength and independence at the thought of owning her own place. But, why wasn’t she approved for ceremonial status? Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, and her heart raced. It’s not fair. I won’t be accepted as a healer. Only children not yet graduated from the coven’s secondary school were kept from participating fully in ceremonies. Esme loved learning the ways of a hedge witch and helped Gram every summer from grade school through college. Fascinated with tending Gram’s plants, Esme even studied botany in college.

The research company she worked for had already accepted her request to work offsite and study mystic plants…at the stipulation she be reduced to part-time. She needed work here as a healer to supplement her income. She’d assumed incorrectly that her experience with Gram and college studies would’ve qualified her as an accepted healer. Her standing in the coven would be important to patrons, all except Gram’s closest friends who knew Esme well. An attempt at independence seemed bound to fail before she started.

Her gaze drifted to the name used in the letter’s greeting. She hadn’t seen her full name in print for decades. It didn’t even appear on her birth certificate, which labeled her as Rebecca E. Underhill, one of the many things her mother insisted upon. Mother wanted nothing to do with the coven or witchcraft and said, “Esmeralda sounds too much like a witch. No need to encourage the darkness out.” Grudgingly, she accepted her own mother’s middle name for her child to uphold custom. Esme never understood Mother’s view since Gram was well-respected for her kind and gentle strength by all who knew her.

To Esme’s Indianapolis friends, she was Becky. Only her mother addressed her as Rebecca. But inside, she was Esme. Gram had always called her that, or Esmeray in carefree moments. Her middle name suited the mystic inside Esme, something Gram must have known. If only Esme could use Gram’s last name Freestone. Underhill felt like a lead weight.

Esme set the letter aside and paced the length of the rag runner through the small kitchen. Frustration wound her along a circular track through the sitting room, to her closet-sized guest room, and back. The space was too small to work answers out of her tangled mind. On the second pass, she sank onto the goose down comforter of Gram’s iron bed. Billowing fluff sheltered her from the problems. Gram’s linens, scented with homegrown lavender and rose sleep liniment, comforted Esme and tugged on her eyelids.

She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up and off the bed. Hiding wasn’t the way to begin this fresh start in life. She’d done enough kowtowing to stronger wills, letting Doug and her mother run over her. At the back door, she paused long enough to grab a rain parka and pulled it on as she strode outside.

Gram’s cat, Dove, zipped alongside with a sharp meow, slipping out before the door closed. Esme smiled, grateful the tomcat kept Gram company during her illness. She’ doted on the smoky blue stray that happened into her garden one early fall afternoon and never left. Gram swore he was an omen and chose his name ‘cause of his white-winged breast patch. She used to say, “One day soon my spirit will fly on those outspread wings, and together Dove and me we’ll roam the wooded hills.” Gram loved those hills. Thinking about the hills drew Esme to gather Dove and head outside.

Ice still peppered down, adding more layers to the spiky crystalline grass blades. A breeze blew at Esme’s back. She allowed the wind to guide her toward the woods behind the cabin. At the trailhead, ice coating the bittersweet vine berries glistened the same shade of blue she’d rubbed from Dove’s coat. Alert to the strange color, she followed a line of branches dangling sky blue icicles, each one more fanciful and richer in hue than the last. A beautiful play of light, ranging from cerulean to ultramarine. Even worth the chill at her ankles, which were bare in her cropped jeans.

Whenever Esme paused to marvel at the colored icicles, Dove pawed them and then dodged when they dropped.

Minutes later and deeper in the forest, the ice pelted heavier, and Esme reached for the hood of her raincoat. Strands of hair fell forward, woven with frozen ultramarine threads. The same purplish tint coated twigs along the path. Light from the sky reached this far into the woods since all but the oak trees had lost their leaves. The unusual color couldn’t be caused by light refraction. She’d never seen any rain, sleet, or snow like this, not even in the Hollow. Grammy had taught her a little about omens. Was this a sign?

Esme scurried along the trail, sliding at times and spotting richer and deeper shades of purple and red-violets. At the far side of the woodlot, iris-hued spider webs clung to berry brambles. She gasped at the beauty. Tempted to touch, she extended a hand but at the last instant resisted.

A deep groan echoed from the adjoining property ahead.

She snatched her hand back and scanned for some god of nature angry at her ruinous attempt. Grappling for Dove, Esme crouched behind a thicket.

The cat gave a single hiss, then clung to her leg.

In the distance, a big middle-aged man, both tall and wide, staggered behind a shed, dragging a long, clumsy load wrapped and tied into a blanket. His balding head snapped in her direction, eyes wide and face blanched gray-white. “Who’s there?” His booming voice sliced the delicate webs from their branches. Crimson freezing rain assaulted both trail and yard.

Esme froze, afraid to move and attract his attention. Her heart, drumming against her ribs, threatened to give her away. She wanted to run home. But if the colored ice omen was meant for her, she needed to stay and learn its meaning. Could the man see the omen?

Thankfully, her cover must’ve fooled Baldy. He resumed lugging the limp bundle, and didn’t seem affected by the magical ice.

From between the tangle of branches, Esme studied him.

His wet, black shirt clung to his round belly. Blood-red ice coated his load, tracing the outline of a human body. Smaller than his, probably a female. Was she dead? Of natural causes? Or had he murdered her? The thought wrapped around Esme’s breath and trapped it deep in her lungs. Her legs twitched. Gaze riveted on Baldy, she positioned to bolt from potential danger.

He rolled the body into a depression Esme couldn’t see.

She leaned to one side, bracing herself with a hand on the ground.

Over what looked like a freshly dug grave, Baldy grunted as he shoveled and kicked dirt and large rocks. Clumps of red clung to long strands of his comb-over, now hanging along one ear. Was it ice or real blood?

Dove huddled closer, and Gram’s voice from years ago spoke in Esme’s mind. “Blood ice is stained with revenge.”

Crimson liquid dripped from the man’s eyes and fell from grimacing jowls. The face of a demon

© Copyright 2016 Marsha A. Moore. All rights reserved.

 

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Tea Leaf Tales: Which Yule Tree Will Pick Me?

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Fantasy Flash Fiction by Marsha A. Moore

I suck in a gulp of thick, pine-scented air, faced with the difficult question—which one. I tick through the usual criteria—fullness, tightly attached needles, correct height. Beyond that the trouble begins for me when I consider needle length, color, tightness of branches. 

Needles crunch under the soles of my shoes as I slowly pass down the row, hoping one tree chooses me. Those I don’t give a full inspection slyly begin to stretch their postures more erect before I turn completely away. If I pause to admire one, branches brush past the backs of my legs until I turn around and give that tree a careful look.

Ahead in the center of the display, I hear voices in foreign languages—hurried bits of anxious dialog that quiet as I grow near. 

One small blue spruce tries his best to stretch taller but cannot reach up to his neighbors, so I lean in and whisper, “If you talk to me, I’ll take you home.” 

I wait, determined, and the nearby treetops bend over the tiny spruce until finally a gentle tinkling begins deep inside at its trunk, radiating to the tips of the boughs at my side. I caress the singing branch, then wave an arm to the shop owner.

Tea Leaf Tales is a series of original ten-sentence short stories by Marsha A. Moore, relating to photos/scenes that resonate with her. Read more Tea Leaf Tales archived in Marsha’s Mercantile of Tea Leaf Tales.

 

About the Author:

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Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.

The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing, as well as other pursuits of watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. Her practice helps weave the mystical into her writing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors where she’s always on the lookout for portals to other worlds. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!

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Mailing list: http://bit.ly/MarshaAMooreList

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage

Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore

Google +: http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/

Amazon author page: www.amazon.com/author/marshaamoore

Goodreads author page http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore

 

Holiday Giveaway

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Enter To Win Stars Fireworks Contest Raffle Entry Jackpotbewitching

 

 

 


Forged in Fire by Lyn C. Johanson

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Forged in Fire

Witch World Series, Book 2

Lyn C. Johanson

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Genre: Paranormal Romance

Date of Publication: November 17, 2016

ASIN: B01MEFIZ0A

Number of pages: 326

Word Count: 95 000

Cover Artist: Renu Sharma

 

Book Description:

Lyn C. Johanson continues her scorching Witch World series with a new story of a human fighting to survive in Hell, and a dangerous beauty who might cost him his soul.

AN EXQUISITE PUNISHER LIVING ON BORROWED TIME…

Desiree ruled a domain swarming with the worst sinners ever to walk on Earth, until her dual nature became too dangerous for the Demon Council to ignore. Now banished, she finds herself intrigued by an enigma she encounters—a decent soul in the land of rotten scum.

A FIGHTER DOOMED TO HELL…

To save his newborn nephews, Ciaran sacrificed his life to spend eternity in the Underworld. Yet becoming a plaything to be used and abused is a fate he is determined to avoid.

A PASSION FORGED IN FIRE…

Temptation stokes the flames in both their hearts and bodies, but when faced with the reality of their circumstances, those flames might burn them both to ash. For in a demon world defined by supernatural abilities, a human must remain a slave, and she—free from any weakness her enemies might take advantage of.

calmred

Amazon

Please note that although Forged in Fire can be read as a stand-alone story, I would strongly recommend reading Till Death and Beyond first, as the world builds from one book to another. Available on Amazon

 

Excerpt:

Bow before your master!” One of the guards spat an order.

I bow before no one,” Ciaran muttered without turning. That was one thing he refused to do. Ever. No matter how many whips sliced his flesh.

Instantly, he felt a fierce blow to his inner knee. His leg bent, and he went down. Ciaran gritted his teeth at the impact with the hard floor, and before the guard could deliver another blow, grabbed for the nearest weapon.

Suddenly fire flashed through the space. As one, the guards sank to the ground, bowing their heads.

Enough!” Huge eyes appeared in the air, above them.

Ciaran frowned. Stood up.

The eyes narrowed. Green flames consumed the irises, and for a second he thought the room would catch fire.

Out!” A sharp order rang out, and was followed before the echo subsided.

The moment Ciaran was left alone, shadows began swirling, the eyes got smaller, until a figure stepped out of the darkness. He thought he was prepared for whatever was coming. A two-headed ogre wouldn’t have surprised him, but when the shadows dissipated, and his eyes locked with those of the creature he’d been summoned by, he forgot whatever it was he wanted to say.

Her eyes were no longer round, but almond-shaped, slightly tilted downward toward her straight but narrow nose. Those eyes missed nothing—and right now, they were focused on him. Not burning, but the way her irises caught the glare of light, it appeared to glow with a cat-like luster.

In vibrant copper-red, the strands that escaped her knee-length braid danced like flames against her flawless, porcelain skin, conjuring up an image of a fragile, ethereal beauty.

One look at her, and Ciaran knew there was nothing fragile about her. She radiated power, and he had no trouble seeing why the guards bowed before her. Why everyone was afraid to even mention her name. The raw energy flowing around her was nothing he’d ever experienced. No demon he’d met possessed a smidgeon of it.

He was screwed, he concluded, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible.

What do you want from me?” he demanded, finally coming to his senses.

She approached, no hesitation in her lithe, tall body. It moved with hypnotizing grace, accentuated by her simple leather pants and top that hugged her like a second skin. If he thought she had power before, it was nothing compared with the sizzle of energy that shot through him when she stretched out her hand, and gently touched his cheek.

It took everything he had to keep his body stone-still. He dared not even breathe. He felt if he did, she could actually bring him to his knees. And as seconds ticked by, her lips curled into a lazy smile, transforming her face from beautiful to stunning. She was a vision—a vision he expected to morph into a nightmare at any moment.

That’s when she whispered, “I want to play.”

 

About the Author:

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A computer science major, Lyn C. Johanson discovered her passion for writing romance stories during the long and stressful months spent finishing her master‘s thesis. It encouraged Lyn to open a new blank page and let her imagination take flight. Several years later, her first romance novel was born.

Her stories transport the reader into the darkly sensual world where the magic of romance meets fantasy. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and sons.

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To learn more about Lyn, visit her website at

http://lyncjohanson.weebly.com

http://lyncjohanson.weebly.com/blog

https://www.facebook.com/LynCJohanson

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7566641.Lyn_C_Johanson

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_DbQPsQAvTsAib1uYs_cjw

 

Tour giveaway

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1st prize 1 $25 Amazon Gift Card

2nd prize 1 $10 Amazon Gift Card

3rd prize 1 $5 Amazon Gift Card

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The words Enter to Win in a starburst of colorful fireworks to illustrate entering or winning a contest, raffle or lottery where a jackpot or money is up for grabs

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Twelve Spirits of Christmas by Kathryn M. Hearst

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Twelve Spirits of Christmas

Tessa Lamar Novels, Book Two

Kathryn M. Hearst

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Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Wyndham House

Date of Publication: November 8, 2016

ASIN: B01MQ09LJU

Number of pages: 315 e-book 354 print

Word Count: 86,000

Cover Artist: Marcela Bolivar

 

Book Description:

Two amazing men. A serial killer. A Christmas to remember.

Tessa Lamar is dreading her first Christmas without her beloved grandfather. They say the holiday season brings out the best and the worst in people. This year, it’s brought out a serial killer, who chooses his victims based on the carol, “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

As Tessa comes to terms with her life as a Nunnehi, the Cherokee equivalent to fairy, she finds herself in cahoots with a ghost to stop the Christmas Killer before he strikes again. She must wrangle her magic, manage family responsibilities, juggle the men in her life, and discover the person she was meant to be, in order to save…

Seven Swans a Swimming

Eight Maids a Milking

Nine Ladies Dancing

Ten Lords a Leaping

Eleven Pipers Piping

Twelve Drummers Drumming

Twelve Spirits of Christmas is the second of the Tessa Lamar Novels, Paranormal Romances with a Southern twist. If you like Southern humor, supernatural creatures, and a healthy dose of romance, then you’ll love this series. Be sure to check out Kindle Scout winner, The Spirit Tree, to read the beginning of Tessa’s journey.

 

Book Trailer:

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Amazon

 

Excerpt:

I rounded the corner to the health and beauty department when the phone rang again. “Hi, Aaron.”

Tessa, we have a case. Can you meet me in Winter Park in an hour?”

I stopped in the middle of the aisle and hung my head. “I’m at the store. What kind of case?”

Suicide from the sound of it. The deceased’s partner found him hanging from a tree in the backyard.” Aaron’s voice lacked its usual humor. He’d either had a late night or rough day, maybe both.

Sure. Text me the address. What’s the victim’s name?” I had no idea what I would do with the room full of people waiting for me at the house, but skipping out on dinner with Darlene made me happy.

Thanks, Tessa. You’re a doll. Partridge. The deceased’s name is Partridge.”

I glanced around to make sure no one was watching before I loaded two containers of Mae’s fiber mix into the cart. “What kind of tree was it?”

Orange tree, why?”

It was probably a sin to laugh at the dead, but I couldn’t help it. “We have a Partridge in an orange tree.”

Aaron groaned. “I’ll send the address. Try to hurry.”

 

About the Author:

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Kathryn M. Hearst is a southern girl with a love of the dark and strange. She has been a storyteller her entire life, as a child, she took people watching to new heights by creating back stories of complete strangers. Besides writing, she has a passion for shoes, vintage clothing, antique British cars, music, musicians and all things musical (including theater). Kate lives in central Florida with her chocolate lab, Jolene; and two rescue pups, Jagger and Roxanne. She is a self-proclaimed nerd, raising a nerdling.

The Order of the Sinistra Dei is her first series and includes titles, Feast of the Epiphany and Feast of Mercy. Kate’s novel, The Spirit Tree, won a publishing contract with Kindle Press through the Kindle Scout contest. Her short stories have been published in various anthologies.

http://facebook.com/kathrynmhearst

http://twitter.com/kathrynmhearst

https://www.amazon.com/Kathryn-M.-Hearst/e/B017S8Z088

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13847103

http://www.kathrynmhearst.com/

Newsletter sign up http://eepurl.com/cmk6dv

 

Tour giveaway

$50 Amazon Gift Card

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Stealing Time by Wendy Sparrow

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Stealing Time

Servants of Fate, Book One

Wendy Sparrow

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Genre: Paranormal Romance (Holiday)

Publisher: Pen and Kink Publishing

Date of Publication: November 1, 2016

ISBN: 9781988233093

ASIN: B01L32M3H6

Number of pages: 87 pages

Word Count: 26,000

Cover Artist: Amanda C. Davis

Book Description:

Father Time’s son, Zeit Geist, must sacrifice a mortal’s lifetime to the Fates each New Year’s Eve. Last year—inexplicably, really—he made an 11:59 substitution. The Fates are pissed and they’re after his mortal Hannah. With the year ending, he ought to figure out why he’d saved her—and why he keeps doing it.

Following an unlucky year, Hannah Lyons needs a week’s holiday in a lodge to unwind. What she gets is near-death experiences and a sexy immortal who can’t avoid kissing her, but might have to kill her. After all, even Zeit can’t hold back time indefinitely.

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Amazon BN Apple Goodreads

Excerpt:

What are you doing to me?”

What do you think I’m doing?”

She glared at him. Saying it out loud would sound utterly stupid. “I keep having these lapses of time. One minute, I’m in one place and, the next, I’m in another. And four times now, I’ve seen you walking away from me when it’s happened.”

So, you’re accusing me of doing something to your memory? Or of stalking you?” He took another sip of his drink as if he was only mildly interested in her response.

She opened her mouth to say something before snapping it closed. What was she accusing him of? It all sounded silly and impossible, and he’d be around this whole week. Every time they saw each other, she’d feel humiliated that she’d actually thought…

Oh, who cared? She was going to get brain cancer from all this testing if she couldn’t get to the bottom of things.

You’re doing something to time. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t think your name is just an odd little coincidence.”

For a blink, she saw something in his eyes and a quick half-smile. “It’s a family name.”

So, your entire family manipulates time?”

Copyright © 2016 by Wendy Sparrow

About the Author:

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At home in the Pacific Northwest, Wendy Sparrow writes for both an adult and young adult audience in many genres but always with a happily ever after. She has two wonderfully quirky kids, a supportive husband, and a perpetually messy house because she hates cleaning. She’s an advocate both online and in her community for autistic children in addition to actively trying to raise awareness about obsessive-compulsive disorder. Most days she spends on Twitter procrastinating doing the dishes.

Website: http://wendysparrow.com

Blog: http://wendysparrow.com/blog/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/WendySparrow

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WendySparrowAuthor/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3346109.Wendy_Sparrow

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Wendy-Sparrow/e/B00AYIR3HQ

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cgOTF1

Tour giveaway

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A handmade original “limited edition” choker from Neath the Veil. The delicate rose-patterned Venetian lace garland ribbon is contrasted with three black clock hands. Tiers of black chain drip between. This choker is very lightweight and comfortable and adjusts from 11-1/2 to 16 inches. This giveaway is international.

$10 USD Amazon gift card which is open to countries with Amazon sites.

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