Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon CA Amazon AU When Alexander buys the land for his new airstrip, he never imagines the home on it is still occupied. But after he lays eyes on Liliana, he decides she’s his property now. Eighteen-year-old Liliana has been tucked away her whole life. After her grandmother dies, she’s left alone with only her romance books to keep her company. She’s been surrounded by females her whole life, but when Alexander walks in the door, she knows he’s there to save her. He’s claiming her, no matter how untouched she is. Will Liliana fight or let Alexander have his way? Will Alexander keep her locked away or set her free? Will there be enough steam in this book to start your own sauna? Only one way to find out! Warning: Are we still doing these? This is Alexa Riley. You should know the drill by now. This is going to be over-the-top dirty with all the sticky bits you like. Get in here already!
Chapter 1 *Alexander*
“I just want it torn down,” I tell Matt, the agent I bought the estate from, as I exit the car. I toss my suit jacket into the back seat, then roll up my sleeves. The house¾if you can even call it that¾looks like a fucking castle. It sits twenty miles outside of Chicago, and it’s the perfect spot for my planned private landing strip for the Boeing 747 I bought last month. I like privacy and this will give me that. The fewer people I have to deal with, the happier I am. I like to go to work and back home, but sometimes travel is unavoidable. There’s enough space here to build the landing strip and keep the house, but there’s no need for it. I’d just have to hire people for its upkeep and I’d never use it. Might as well rip the thing down. Not like I have a need for a place like this. It’s breathtaking with an old-school feel, but my condo in the city is all I need. I live alone and I’ve never met a woman who tempted me to change that. I’m doomed to be alone and I’ve settled into that. Work is my life. The thoughts of ever having a family of my own are long forgotten, though my mother still thinks there’s hope. I can’t even count how many times she’s told me the story of when my father found her working in some small coffee shop and practically picked her up and carried her out and he’d never let her go. Which is true. He has her tucked away on a nice little island right now, enjoying retirement. “I thought maybe you should look inside first. You bought the whole estate as is, and I’m guessing there are still a lot of personal items inside. Maybe even art.” I glance around the property. I hadn’t even looked at a single picture before I bought it. Just found out the land size and purchased it unseen. But looking around now, I can tell the place has a history to it. A stone wall surrounds the home, which is located in the center of the property. It looks like a fortress. It’s beautiful, but more than one man would ever need. I run my eyes along the front, counting the windows and sizing up just how big it might be on the inside. Then I catch something out of the corner of my eye. Movement. “It’s empty?” I ask, looking back over at Matt. “Yes. There had been some staff still servicing the property, but they were informed that yesterday was their last day,” Matt says. “I saw it, sir,” Black, my head of security, says, coming to stand next to me. “Let’s go find our trespasser then.” We head for the front door, my interest now piqued. Might as well take a look around if I’m going inside. I’ve already come all this way, and I cleared my morning schedule for this little trip. “Sir, maybe I should¾” I cut Black off by just holding up my hand as I continue walking towards the front door. He might be my head of security, but I still do what I want, even when he advises otherwise. “Keys,” I snap, turning a little for Matt to throw them to me. I catch them and slide the key into the lock and the door pops open with a loud creak. Then all the air leaves my lungs at the sight before me. Standing at the top of the stairs is a young woman. The sunlight streaming in through the open door hits, and it creates a halo of light around her. Her hair is dark as chocolate and such a contrast to her creamy white skin. And even from this distance, I can see she has the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Her full, lush lips part just a little as she stares at me. My eyes travel down her body to the white nightgown that looks transparent in the light, showing off all her curves. I feel myself harden at just the sight. “Shit,” I hear Black say from behind me in awe. It makes blood rush to my ears and jealousy course through my body like I’ve never felt before. It wraps around my heart, making me clench my fists. Mine. The word pounds though my head. I’ve bought the estate and everything in it. As of yesterday it’s all mine. That makes her mine, too. I can’t stop the irrational barbaric thought from forming. “Out!” I shout to the room, making Matt jump and Black pull his eyes from the girl and take a step back. “Out.” I growl it this time, and both turn and step out of the door. I slam it shut and click the lock back in place. I can’t bring myself to turn around. She looked like a fucking angel. Maybe she isn’t real. She looked too perfect to be real. The thought makes the air leave my lungs again. Slowly, I turn, and this time she’s closer than before, having come down the stairs. Her head is cocked to the side like she’s studying me. I find myself taking the ten steps to get closer to her, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. It brings us eye level with each other. She just stares at me. Her eyes seem so big and bright now, her long black lashes giving her a doe-eyed look. Her hand comes up, reaching out and touching my face. She runs it along the stubble on my jaw, and her mouth parts a little as her tongue comes out, wetting her bottom lip. It takes everything in me not to groan at the simple action. I want to taste her plump bottom lip for myself, then push my tongue into her mouth. “You came,” she says, her voice filled with wonder. The sound is soft and sweet. “I came?” I ask, not understanding what she means. She just nods her head, her dark curls bouncing with the movement. I can’t stop myself from reaching out and grabbing one. She doesn’t flinch like a lot of people do around me. I’m a big guy and my size can be intimidating. The scar running from the top of my left eyebrow down to my jaw doesn’t help, but she doesn’t seem scared at all. No, she’s looking at me like I’m looking at her. I’m no angel, far from it. But I like her eyes on me. “Like in my books. You look just like I thought,” she says. Then she throws herself at me. She wraps her arms around my neck, taking me by surprise. Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes. They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you! Author Links Twitter Facebook Website Goodreads Amazon Page Instagram
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Dating an Alien Pop Star
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo EXCERPT: Griffin raises a dark eyebrow. “Are you afraid of me?” “I didn’t say I’m afraid!” “But are you?” “No!” “Good.” He kicks off his shoes. “This will be a nice period of bonding for us, Wanda.” “Why are you here?” I demand, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing my arms over my chest. “You say you want to become the most powerful being on the planet with your music and all of that, but why?” “It’s none of your business.” “It’s my planet, so it is my business. You’re not planning to brainwash all of us, and then harvest our organs or something, are you? Keep our livers in jars in a spaceship somewhere? Burn the planet and then plant your weird medicinal drugs here?” Griffin stalks closer to me with every word, until he’s standing directly in front of me, the glowing light in his eyes showing through the lenses. “And if I am, do you think you’re going to stop me?” A shudder traces through me. I’m not sure if it’s because of his words or because he’s standing so close. “I’ll have to stop you,” I say in a very brave tone. Okay, actually, it’s not brave at all. More like a wheezy whisper. But Bjork or Kim Gordon wouldn’t just bow down to an alien invasion without at least attempting to protect their planet, and neither will I. Before I can fully process what’s happening, Griffin’s pinned me down, holding my wrists against the bed under his hands. His body, though slight, feels substantial and warm against mine—simultaneously threatening and a bit of a turn on. “You don’t know me very well at all, do you, Wanda?” he whispers, and I want to correct him about my name, but I find it hard to say anything at all. “I would never come all the way to your planet just to enjoy the food and then destroy it. I’m not cruel!” “I don’t know anything about you, other than your bad taste in clothes,” I say, but his weight pressed against my pelvis has my body pulsing and warm all over. Bad, bad, bad. “Then look into me, why don’t you? You could see anything you wanted, if you’d just look. I’d let you.” When I shake my head, he releases me, climbing right over top of me to take his place on the bed. I can feel the mattress shaking a bit, and I gather my wits enough to sit up and glance at him. He’s maneuvered his way out of the rest of his clothes, leaving only the underwear. Thank God. Especially since my close proximity reveals he’s not doing too bad in that department. Even under a layer of fabric.
GIVEAWAY!
Title: Dream Magic
Series: The Magic Series #2
By: Michelle Mankin
Publication Date: June 7, 2016
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Morpheus the Dream Falcon is most at home in that domain. By night, the one of a kind winged immortal soars on those winds, observing and sometimes even entering the slumbering thoughts of another. By day, he is a highly sought after mercenary feared by his immortal kin for both his unmatched ferocity and his wicked obsidian talons. None of his prey escapes him.
Cecilia Ramirez y Aguilera is the one he truly wants. But the striking oracle of the Court of the Light Immortals is closed to the handsome outlaw, even in her dreams. Broken by unimaginable losses, the seer is but a slave, subject to the whims of a master who is mad and without mercy.
Drawn together by fate, their impossible passion ignites. But will that be enough given the dangerous secrets each keeps from the other? Or will mistrust and the desire for revenge threaten to unravel the powerful magic that binds them?
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Catch up on the series with Strange Magic
The Magic Series #1
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When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever. - Alexandre Dumas
Michelle Mankin is the New York Times bestselling author of the Black Cat Records series of novels. Rock Stars. Romance. Redemption. Love Evolution, Love Revolution, and Love Resolution are a BRUTAL STRENGTH centered trilogy, combining the plot underpinnings of Shakespeare with the drama, excitement, and indisputable sexiness of the rock 'n roll industry. Things take a bit of an edgier, once upon a time turn with the TEMPEST series. These pierced, tatted, and troubled Seattle rockers are young and on the cusp of making it big, but with serious obstacles to overcome that may prevent them from ever getting there. Rock stars, myths, and legends collide with paranormal romance in a totally mesmerizing way in the MAGIC series. Catch the perfect wave with irresistible surfers in the ROCK STARS, SURF AND SECOND CHANCES series. Romance and self-discovery, the FINDING ME series is a Tempest spin off with a more experienced but familiar cast of characters. When Michelle is not prowling the streets of her Texas town listening to her rock or NOLA funk music much too loud, she is putting her daydreams down on paper or traveling the world with her family and friends, sometimes for real, and sometimes just for pretend. BRUTAL STRENGTH series: Love Evolution: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0080ZCZ14 Love Revolution: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00A6DE8IG Love Resolution: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CC705J0 Love Rock’ollection: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P9KD71A TEMPEST series (also available in audio): Irresistible Refrain: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FLG5KPS Enticing Interlude: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I7LGQOI Captivating Bridge: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KGFB0IK Relentless Rhythm: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MTWGT5C Tempest Raging: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VO692FS Tempting Tempo: Summer 2016 Scandalous Beat The MAGIC series (also available in audio) STRANGE MAGIC: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01DOHDKP2 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1099990321 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/strange-magic-michelle-mankin/1123628500?ean=2940153251974 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/strange-magic-6 DREAM MAGIC: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01F13PQX6 https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1110245185 http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dream-magic-michelle-mankin/1123750473?ean=2940153223643 https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/dream-magic-3 TWISTED MAGIC ROCK STARS, SURF AND SECOND CHANCES series: Outside (also available in audio): http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YLPMB8E Riptide Oceanside FINDING ME series (also available in audio): Find Me: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AIYDHWA?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660 Remember Me: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AIYDI60?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660 Keep Me: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AIZ7R66?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660 Connect with Michelle Mankin on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Michelle-Mankin/233503403414065 On Twitter: https://twitter.com/MichelleMankin On her website: http://www.michellemankin.com/ On Instagram: https://instagram.com/michellemankin/ Receive the Black Cat Records newsletter: http://eepurl.com/Lvgzf
Prologue
June 1998 Cecilia “Hey, Mamá.” “Hola, mejita.” My mother turned smiling indulgently at the ever present headphones around my neck and the huge stack of music and fashion magazines I toted into the kitchen with me. “Dinner’s almost ready.” She used a spatula to flip something that sizzled and released a deliciously garlicky aroma into the air. Plátanos. My mouth watered and my empty stomach grumbled. “What’s new in the entertainment world?” “Not much.” I lifted the Rolling Stone magazine to show her the cover and made a face. “Except Star Angel is breaking up with Brad.” “Chica doesn’t stay with any one man long does she?” “I know, right?” I shook my head in disbelief of my favorite diva’s man eating ways. The blunt ends of my straight hair swished against my shoulders. The halter and loose linen shorts I wore weren’t cutting edge fashion like Star preferred and I dreamed about, but it was way too hot in the rainforest for haute couture. “Didn’t those two have a child together?”Mamá asked returning her attention to the stove. “Yeah. That’s the saddest part.” I set aside the magazine. I planned to finish the article later. Being an aspiring singer, I was interested in finding out where Star thought her present heartache would take her professionally. For now I followed my nose across the bamboo floors that were smooth against my bare feet. “Mmm, mofongo.” I smiled widely. Plantains mashed with garlic, chicharrones, and olive oil. My favorite Puerto Rican dish. I snatched a pinch from one of the starchy slices on the paper towel lined plate. “No, Cecilia,” my mother chided, pewter eyes the same unusual moonbeam shade as my own glowing softly. “We’ll eat soon. Your papá should be home any minute.” “Sorry, Mamá.” I blew on my prize to cool it, and returned to the table my father had built using wood from an Ausubo tree prized for its decay and termite resistant properties. I popped the crispy morsel into my mouth and savored the rich flavor for a moment. “What’s the special occasion?” I asked her before licking the salty garlic residue from my fingertips. Making mofongo was time consuming. It wasn’t an everyday treat. Blue marlin filets were laid out alongside the mortar and pestle she would use to mash the fried plantains. “And when did Papá go to the north coast?” Our home in the El Yunque Rainforest was far from the side of the island where that particular fish flourished. “So many questions, mejita.” She flipped off the gas burner and turned to face me blotting perspiration from her forehead with a kitchen towel and lifting her glossy ebony hair away from her neck so the late evening breeze would cool it. “Did you and Millie get the herbs?” “Si, Mamá. They were easy to find once we...after we…” Carajo. Shit “We have all of them. Everything on the list.” I pressed my lips flat, kicking myself for almost admitting how my twin had helped me locate them. Unfortunately for me, my mamá knew me too well to overlook my verbal stumbling. Her grey eyes narrowed. I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I swore that woman was psychic. At least she had an unsettling ability to read me, even if that wasn’t her gifting. “Cecilia Ramirez y Aguilera. You know better! Your papá and I have told you over and over again. No scrying! I…” She snapped her mouth shut as my papá appeared striding into the kitchen wearing only cutoff shorts. His six foot six inch frame overshadowed Millie who stood a full foot shorter like me. Hips swaying rhythmically, blissfully unaware of the trouble I had gotten us into, she was humming some silly tune I had composed for her when we were kids. “What’s wrong, Panacea, mi preciosa?” My father’s voice had a lilting musical quality similar to my own. Millie had inherited his angelic beauty, not that I was jealous. I doted on my sweet sibling just as everyone else in my family did. My father’s ruby-red gaze hardened as he glanced back and forth between my mamá and me. I gulped around the growing knot in my throat while twisting my hands together. I knew it was only a matter of time before he found out. He wouldn’t be deterred. Millie shot me a questioning look. I gave my head a subtle shake cautioning her not to give anything away. I was always treading into troubled waters. I wanted to avoid dragging her down with me for once. “Raphael. Don’t be mad.” My mamá held his gaze using her most soothing tone. “But I fear the girls were scrying when they went out for herbs earlier today.” “What?” he roared his displeasure in a deliberately measured volume. If he chose to he could reduce a solid structure to rubble with only the power of his utterance. Nevertheless, Mamá’s colorful Fiestaware dishes rattled ominously on the open shelves. He snapped open his wings, fourteen feet of intimidating span, several inches thick yet as transparent as if they had been fashioned from flawless glass. Dazzling when reflecting direct sunlight, they were most mesmerizing on a cloudless night, when they sparkled with the light of the Creator’s stars. An unstable lapis coffee cup tumbled to the floor shattering into jagged pieces in front of me. I took a step back and assumed a protective stance in front of my twin, not because Papá would ever hurt us. He loved us, both of us…only unequally. But he frightened Millie whenever he got angry. Her pretty sea foam green eyes wide Millie pressed closer. She might be his favorite but I didn’t hold that against her. Unlike me, she was easy to love, and she was my twin. We stuck together. No matter what. Mamá said we were sympatico, dos uno, two parts that made up one whole. I took her trembling hand and squeezed to reassure her. I felt our emotions settling the instant we touched. “Have I not expressly forbidden you from using your gifts?” My father’s angry red gaze skewered me. I managed a submissive nod. “I am extremely disappointed in you, my daughter. I don’t make rules to make your life difficult. You know they’re for your safety. I’ve told you countless times how violent our immortal world can be and how critical it is that we maintain our anonymity in it.” The golden skin over his bulging biceps stretched beneath the strain as he crossed his tensed arms across his chest. “Why take such a risk for a handful of herbs, Cecilia?” His gaze narrowed further. “Did you forget? Is that your excuse for disobeying me this time? Or do you think that you know better since you seem so ready to set out on your own?” My mamá frowned as she rose from the floor where she had been scooping up the broken pieces of pottery. Millie’s fingers tightened in mine. “I didn’t forget. I didn’t think…” “That’s the problem. Most of the time you don’t think at all, Cecilia.” His criticism made my stomach cramp, but I tilted up my chin defiantly. “You’re overreacting. It only took us a moment. It’s unlikely anyone was around to notice.” I didn’t have it in me to back down whenever he laid into me. So I just dove deeper into it. “I know you think my rules are too confining.” He shook his head disappointedly. “That our home is a cage to you. That you desperately yearn for your freedom. What you fail to see is that everything I do is done out of love for you and your sister and a desire to protect you. I have years of knowledge and experience that you lack. Your mamá and I pray to the Creator daily that you and your sister will never experience what the worst of our kind have to offer.” I sighed, ducked my head and mumbled, “I’m sorry I disobeyed you.” “Your apology would be of little consolation to your mother and me if you’re both dead, Cecilia. You know as well as I do that even though it only takes a moment for you to scry, that act leaves behind a unique residue that another foresight gifted immortal can trace even days later.” I nodded somberly my guilt increasing as I felt Millie shaking beside me. She had an active imagination, one fueled by her voracious reading habit. It didn’t take more than a suggestion of danger by Papá to set it in motion. “Besides, using your gifts scares the mortals,” he continued. “It’s a delicate enough balance for us living among them and having them accept us as it is.” “You’re right, Papá.” I nodded obediently. His anger seemingly spent, his expression softened. He slowly retracted his massive wings. Though powerful enough to launch him and a passenger into the sky within a single heartbeat, they were completely invisible when tucked into his shoulder blades. My mother set the shards of pottery she had gathered on the counter and tucked her curvy body into her husband’s rock solid side. Throwing his arm around her shapely shoulders, he pulled her closer. They had been married for over a century yet the passion between them remained visibly strong. “You leave me no choice but to punish you, Cecilia,” he declared sternly. “No television. No excursions to town. Not even to assist your mamá with her healings.” “But Papá,” I began. “I have so much to do before I move…” “No.” He shushed me with a sharp gesture. “I’ve been far too lenient with you. You need to learn once and for all to use better judgment.” His eyes flared, glowing red embers within a fire. Familiar with that look, I braced. “You will also sleep tonight in the guestroom without your sister.” A very harsh punishment indeed. I didn’t sleep well when separated from Millie. Tears pricked my eyes, but I curled my fingernails into my palms refusing to cry. I wasn’t going to let on how much his discipline upset me. “Is that really necessary, Raph? You know neither one can sleep when separated from the other.” “I know, my love. That’s why I’m doing it.” He gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear as he peered down at her. “The lesson must sink in for both of them. They need to look after each other. One day soon, they will be on their own. I’ve tried my best to prepare them for the world they are so set on experiencing but obviously there are lessons yet to be learned.” His gaze returned to me. “There will be no more talk of you moving out, not until I see proof that you are maturing.” I knew his tone meant his decision was final, but he had been right when he said I was desperate to be out on my own. To be so close and to have that taken away...I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let it go. “Papá, no,” I pleaded feeling my hopes and dreams drifting away. “We are nearly twenty one. You promised.” “Nevertheless.” His expression grew sterner. “Your questionable judgment puts you and your sister at undue risk. You know she is your shadow forever looking to you for direction. I can’t permit it.” I lowered my gaze my eyes stinging with the burn of bitter disappointment. “Papá.” Millie moved forward placing her platinum locks on his shoulder. The light color matched his exactly, so rare for Dark Immortals. “Por favor.” She reached for his hand. “Please, don’t take this away from Cici. She has an apartment already and a waitressing job at the Blue Parrot.” “I’m sorry. It’s no longer open for discussion, little one, maybe in time I will reconsider.” His expression troubled, he shook his head and his crystal clear wings emerged slowly forming sharp peaks over each shoulder. His focus shifted to the open window. His chin tilted toward it and his nostrils flared as if he had scented something unpleasant. He turned to my mother. “I’m going to make a quick pass above the trees to make sure everything is safe.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head and gently squeezed my sister’s shoulder before turning to me. “Set the table for your mamá . I will return shortly.” ***** “¡Ándale!” I hissed low setting the heavy backpack stuffed with my belongings at my feet. “If you’re going to come with me, honey, then come. Otherwise stay and get back in bed with your book. And don’t tell them anything until tomorrow.” Hopefully by then it would be too late for Papá to drag me home. I tapped my flip flops against the spongy mat of decomposed vegetation outside our guest bedroom window, my impatience leaving squishy indentations on the forest floor. I loved my parents but lately I chafed daily under their authority. I refused to stick around the undetermined period of time it would take for Papá to change his mind. If it had been up to me I would have left home right after high school. If I had maybe I would already have saved up enough money working in Old San Juan to hop on a plane to Miami or Los Angeles, somewhere less isolated than the island, somewhere my singing career might actually have a legitimate chance to take off, somewhere full of the excitement and drama I craved. Anywhere but slow-paced and boring here. “Of course I’m coming with you, as if I’d let you leave me behind,” Millie huffed throwing her own backpack out the window a moment before her narrow butt poked through it. “You’re such a pain in my rear, Cici.” She threw one tanned leg over the wooden sill, then the other, shimmying her torso toward the ground. I reached up to help her, placing my hands on her hips. She dropped gracefully onto the rain softened soil beside me and retrieved her pack. Our bungalow style home was higher off the ground than stateside ones, a practicality to keep it above the floodwaters during the rainy season. “Do you always have to wear white?” I complained with just enough volume to be heard over the chorus of nighttime insects and the ‘Couqui’ cries of the tree frogs. I didn’t want to wake our slumbering parents. They had both gone into their room after dinner, but being Dark Immortals whose internal clocks were set by the moon they would arise as soon as it reached its pinnacle. “Would it kill you to choose some color for a change?” The brighter and more contrasting the better in my opinion, something like the fushia top and indigo shorts I had changed into for our escape. Plus, though I often complained about Papá’s constant lessons in self-preservation, they hadn’t been entirely lost on me. White stuck out in the dark. No one gets hurt if they are invisible to their enemies, Cecilia. “It’s a long walk to the falls where Ernesto is meeting us,” I told her. “You’re going to get dirty and you’re going to stand out like a pale faced tourista in the market.” “But white’s my best color.” Flip flops just like mine clicked against the loam on the well-worn hiking trail as she trotted to keep pace with me. Our shoes were the only thing that matched tonight. If we let our mamá have her way she would still be dressing us exactly alike, even though we were way too old for that type of thing. Besides we were fraternal, not identical twins. “Do you think Ernesto asked Jaime to come along?” Her eyes sparkled brightly with excitement. I think she would have bounced on her toes but her pack was too heavy. I bit back a grin. Jaime was a cute boy, sweet and a dreamer like she was. She had been crushing on him for months. Their feelings seemed to be reciprocal though neither had been brave enough to make a first move. Ernesto on the other hand was bold to the point of being aggressive, as different from his brother in personality as I was to Millie. I actually enjoyed the thrill of danger she only liked reading about in her books. Ernesto appealed to my impulsive rebellious nature. Thus this impromptu late night rendezvous at the falls. Mamá wouldn’t approve. She would never allow a boy with a reputation like Ernesto take me into town. I didn’t really like the idea of owing him a favor. But he had a truck and I had no other option for the long drive into Old San Juan. There weren’t many guys willing to defy my father. He was a legendary Dark Immortal, and though mortals like Ernesto didn’t suspect that, they could sense his power. He was an Ancient after all, one of only four who had guarded the four gates of the Great City on the Otherside. Beautiful and brilliant, their curiosity had lured them to the above ground world. Once angelic, they turned vampiric the moment they had risen from the earth to partake of its temptations and pleasures. Papá was completely immune to the sun, unlike the legions of vampires he inadvertently spawned before he learned to regulate his thirst. He was the strongest of the four Ancients, which was why with Papá as his first lieutenant, Apollyon had easily defeated his challengers to establish his throne far beneath the city of New Orleans. Though not really as powerful as our father, Millie and I shared a rare talent, one disconcerting to humans and immortals alike. My family was not the only Dark Immortals who found the isolation of the rainforest to be an excellent refuge, but we were definitely the most feared. Outcasts among outcasts. Our own kind even shied away from us. We were tolerated and sheltered because of my mother. She was a healer. A bruja. A witch doctor. Unparalleled in her craft, loved and revered because of it. The Creator’s magic was stamped into every cell of her marrow, an aftereffect from when her parents had done the unthinkable, partaking of the forbidden water of the Spring of the Afterlife while yet living. Assisting her over the years I had seen her heal grievous wounds of both mortals and immortals. Although our blood was much less potent, that same gift of healing had been passed along to Millie and me. But our chief gifting was the ability to predict the future of a person if we touched someone or something important to them. In some cases we could even catch glimpses into their past. We also had an advanced ability to scry for lost people or items like those missing herbs. Millie reached for my hand and held it as we continued down the narrow path to the waterfall. I smiled at her appreciating her ready affection. I wasn’t as confident about leaving tonight as I was pretending to be. But I couldn’t hide anything from Millie, especially my emotions. She knew I wished I could be more sensitive and caring. Easier to love. Like she was. Like Mamá . No surprise that after only one meeting with my mother, our father had insisted upon her release as a final reward for his long and faithful service to Apollyon. Then he had resigned his commission and walked away from all the privileges his dangerous but powerful position had once afforded him. Millie had my father’s looks and my mother’s inner spiritual beauty. Me? I was a compilation of my parents, too, just a confusing, jumbled one. Mamá fussed at me whenever I bemoaned the less than fortunate mixture “Cecilia Ramirez y Aguilera,” she was fond of telling me, “los árboles no están dejando ver el bosque. You can’t see the forest for the trees. You are different si, but muy bonita in your own unique way if only you would realize it. Believe in it and accept yourself the way the Creator intended you to be.” I tucked a strand of my soft as silk but unsettling two toned platinum and ebony hair back beneath the black bandana I usually wore scarf style to conceal it. If only I had a demon’s ability to cloak it or a shape shifter’s talent to take a whole other form. If only I could I would get rid of the patrician nose I had inherited from my father. If only I could make my hair one uniform shade instead of pitch black superficially with underlying layers of platinum that reflected the sun during the day and sparkled with the illumination of the stars at night like my father’s wings. The fact that my silver eyes glowed like the new moon whenever my emotions were heightened added to the freak show of my appearance. I was not surprised that people from our small town in the rainforest kept their distance from me, but it still hurt that they did. If we had been born into a different time, my sister and I would have been honored, like the oracles of old who predicted the future in a time when immortals had walked openly upon the earth and had been worshipped by men as gods. But there was no honor for our talents in a modern society where everything supernatural had to be explained scientifically. These days we had to hide our gifts as carefully as I concealed my hair. Millie and I stepped out from beneath the shadowed shelter of the tropical trees and entered the moonlit rocky clearing surrounding the base of the falls. An icy prickle of awareness made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I felt like someone was watching us. I darted a quick glance back at the dark forest. I didn’t see anyone. The nighttime sounds remained undisturbed. Chastising myself for being overly paranoid like my papá, I carefully picked my way over the uneven surface with my twin. “Mamacita,” Ernesto greeted, pushing away from the woody trunk of the Banyan tree where he had been leaning. Prowling confidently toward us, his tight jeans hugged his athletic form and the thick rope chain around his neck sparkled in the moonlight. My heartrate kicked up louder in my ears than the roar of the falls as he leisurely scanned me. He looked at me as if I were his dinner, his lips slowly lifting into a cocky grin. “I wasn’t expecting your sister,” he purred stretching out his arm to me. I placed my hand in his, feeling all warm and shivery when his fingers closed tightly around mine. His gaze flicked to Millie his expression darkening with displeasure he didn’t attempt to hide. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming until tomorrow.” “Change of plans.” I shrugged. “Why don’t we pick up your brother and make it a double date?” “He’s working late.” My sister’s face fell. She wore her emotions out in the open for all to see. A calculating glint narrowed Ernesto’s eyes. “But I can call and ask him to meet us at the apartment. By the time we arrive he should be done with his shift.” He slid his cell from the pocket of his pressed jeans. “Thank you,” I mouthed to him as he placed the call. “Anything for you, mi bonita.” He pulled me tighter to his side, his smooth fingertips tracing distracting circles on my skin. I was sure he hoped Jaime would occupy Millie while he got me alone. I knew he wanted to take things to the next level. In theory, I agreed. Almost twenty-one and still a virgin, I took it as proof of my unattractiveness. Not only that, it was a hindrance to writing sexy lyrics when I had no frame of reference. It was just another way Millie and I differed. She was holding out for true love, like Mamá and Papá had found, like characters in the British Classics she preferred to read. Tugging me along, Ernesto guided me along the path to his old truck. His free hand slid to the small of my back the tips of his fingers resting on the swell of my ass. Yeah, he was definitely expecting some action in repayment for his assistance tonight. If Millie noticed where his hand lay, lower than I was comfortable with truth be told, she didn’t say anything. She remained a silent chaperone on the trail beside us. Ernesto opened the passenger side door for me. I tossed my backpack inside, stepped onto the muddy running board and scooted to the middle of the bench seat. Millie followed. The hinge creaked and slammed as Ernesto shut us in. He flashed a suave smile as he rounded the hood. My stomach fluttered with nerves. For some reason I couldn’t summon any anticipation, even as I tried imagining receiving one of his slow kisses. I tensed as he twisted the latch on the driver’s side. Suddenly, a shadow denser than the dark night fell over him. A harsh clanging filled the air. Face lifting, his expression turned into one of terror. My blood chilled as he gasped throwing his body backward against the vehicle so hard it rocked. A moment later clawed feet tore into the skin of his shoulders. Blood welled before he was ripped away up into the air. Panic froze me in its icy grip until Millie shattered it with her scream. I turned and saw the stone face of a gargoyle with saggy eyes and a horn in the center of his forehead peering into the window on her side. My panic morphed into heart slamming full blown fear. We knew from Papá’s lessons that gargoyles were Apollyon’s preferred envoys. “Lock your door!” I shouted, quickly jamming my body into the vacant driver’s seat. I turned the key and started the ignition. Motor roaring to life, I yanked the shift stick into drive and slammed my foot down on the gas pedal. The truck wheels spun in the mud for a terrifying moment before we finally lurched into motion. My teeth rattled as the vehicle bumped in and out of potholes on the way down the mountain. Before I could catch a breath, a heavy form crashed onto the hood. It rocked the truck frame creasing the metal. Blood splashed across the windshield before it rolled off. Millie and I screamed in unison at the sight of what I knew to be Ernesto’s headless body. I flipped on the windshield wipers to clear the glass. I didn’t have time to process. I had to drive. I had to get somewhere safe fast. I had to protect my sister. The steering wheel vibrated in my clammy hands. It was hard to hold onto because of our speed and the jarring surface of the road. I gripped it tighter and rammed the accelerator to the floorboard. Shoulders hunched, I concentrated on the path in front of me, scraping my bandana out of my eyes and peering into the night. Every muscle was tense, anticipating the gargoyles’ return. The old truck engine screamed in protest as I taxed it. My heart beat so hard it made my chest hurt. Millie pressed closer. I could feel her shaking. I opened my mouth to tell her to get back to her side and put on her seat belt but my vision started to cloud. No, no, no…not now. The familiar chill of a premonition flooded my veins like ice water. My racing heart seemed to pause between one beat and the next. Millie’s eyes beamed a radiant crystalline green at me. Mine were a ghostly grey reflection in the shiny surface of hers. The outside world disappeared. The only reality in the black void was the warmth of my twin’s fingers interlaced with mine. Impossibly we were propelled across time and space arriving on the open lawn in front of our cottage. A horrible scream rent the air. My mother. If my spirit form could have gotten any colder it would have turned into solid ice. I tried to move toward the sound of her voice even though I knew from past experience that it would do no good. My body and Millie’s were back in the truck fleeing from danger while our spirits existed here suspended between breaths as silent witnesses to a future we didn’t want to see. Smoking flames licked the walls of our home. Dark arrows zinged through the air released from the bows of the green skinned woodland elves who wielded them. Behind them a line of vampires with glowing red eyes and black dusters that skimmed the ground waited at attention, arms crossed over, claw tipped fingers curled into their biceps, ready to enter the action if necessary. The front door suddenly burst open and flew off its hinges. My papá stepped through the opening, his features fierce and his beautiful wings unfurled. Their brilliant crystal sheen reflected the angry fire that raged behind him. I opened my mouth exhaling a silent scream when I saw all the black arrows that had found their mark within his body. The shafts protruded from his bare chest, from his arms and his legs, all drenched with his blood. Mamá stood at his back, her ivory sleeping gown adorned with disturbing splashes of red. Papá was shielding her, but her face was pale, too pale. Another volley of arrows whizzed through the air. Millie’s mouth opened like mine but no sound came out. My father staggered his body jerking as each new projectile found its mark. My mother sobbed. The sound of her despair shredded my spirit even as more arrows ripped into my papá’s flesh. Red gaze brighter than the flames, my father turned his head away from the elves. His platinum hair was a halo of pure light but his glare was a dark promise of retribution focusing on an auburn headed figure standing off to one side leaning casually on an ebony staff. The expression on his unhandsome face implied boredom, but I knew that it was a deception. After all, he was the Father of Lies. “Raph,” my mother wheezed. “Drink.” She lifted her arm up offering him her wrist, and he took it, incisors elongating as he bent his head piercing her delicate flesh. His broken body pulled straighter with each deep pull that he took. “Enough.” The auburn headed man made a slicing motion in the air with his staff. It morphed into a wickedly sharp scythe. “Step aside, Raphael. I have indulged you long enough this night. I have need of Panacea. She is too valuable as a healer. I have changed my mind about letting you have her. I am here to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” Even within the spirit realm I swayed beneath the authority of his persuasive voice. Not an Offspring. Not just any Progeny. One of the Favored. “Over my dead body, Apollyon.” My father’s eyes blazed. No! I shouted my protest without any sound. Don’t antagonize him, Papá, please. This was the Destroyer. The ruler of the In Between. The one he had continually warned us about. I tried to move again but failed. “That is assured already, Raphael. It will be my pleasure to send you back to the Otherside. Only this time you’ll pay the toll and cross the Styx the way everyone else does… as a shade.” The demon laughed and seemed to grow in size. “I implore you to desist from exsanguinating from the lovely Panacea as those arrows are obsidian tipped. Even if you drain every drop of blood from her desirable body, you are only delaying the inevitable.” “No,” my mother gasped. For an immortal obsidian meant permanent injury and death if the wound was severe enough. And my poor papá’s injuries were severe. He looked like a pincushion. Tears leaked from my mother’s eyes. She and my father exchanged a longing look. Mamá slid her hand along my papá’s stubble darkened cheek and he covered it with his own. The love between them, the depth of their pain, the resignation to their fate, witnessing all of that broke something inside of me. For there was something Apollyon did not know. My father’s impending death ensured hers as well. My mother inhaled sharply as my father, the legendary Raphael, crumpled. His majestic wings seemed to shrivel. He dropped to his knees. Behind him the walls of the house he had built collapsed inward on themselves as if already mourning his loss. My mamá slid down beside him offering him her wrist again but he refused it. “Go, preciosa,” he pleaded, his voice still strong but the cost of saying those words to the woman who was his other half was plain to see. The ravaged lines of his face deepened. “Never.” Ebony hair skimming the blood splotched skin of her slim shoulders, she shook her head in refusal. “Leave,” he whispered. “You must. There may be some way to reverse the damage to you.” “No.” She moved in front of him, hands stroking his cheeks tenderly as she did every day, as if no one else existed but the two of them, as if they had all the time in the world to express their affection. Even among Apollyon’s minions I heard murmured misgivings. She lifted his pierced and bleeding hands to her lips and rained kisses across them. “Where you go, I go. Always.” Seeming to use the last of his remaining strength my father caught her as she suddenly slumped forward. Slowly he lifted his head and stared at the spot where Millie and I observed. Though it wasn’t possible, it seemed to me that he saw us. A tear spilled from his eye. A single tear. A crimson tear. One of regret? Or one of condemnation toward me? Had Apollyon discovered our location because of the scrying Millie and I had done? Despair superseded guilt as I watched my father wrap his arms tightly around my mother as if to absorb her into himself. Then he closed his eyes, never again to reopen them. “What is this?” Apollyon roared only just then beginning to realize the truth. That my parents were a Fated couple. When one died, so did the other. Forever together. Never apart. Flames flickered behind my parent’s forms. Bright sparks lifted into the stars of the black night. Our cottage became their funeral pyre. Blackness suddenly descended over my eyes. I blinked trying to clear it. I wanted to see my parents one last time but it was not to be. I had no control over when the visions came or went. My spirit slamming back inside my body, I glanced in the truck’s rearview mirror, noticing the plume of smoke billowing above the forest tree line. I knew with dreaded certainty that it was from our burning home. The shadowy branches of the tree line along the road seemed to reach for our vehicle as we barreled by them. Droplets of Ernesto’s blood trickled across the windshield reminiscent of my father’s last tear. “No, no, no,” my sister chanted. She knew as well as I did that our vision had been a glimpse into a very near and certain future. I whipped the wheel around without letting off on the gas. My elbow hit the door. Millie slid into me. We had to go back. Back to the cottage. Back to save our parents. The fire had started, but maybe if we hurried we could alter what we had foreseen. But there would be no awakening from this horrible dream. The dark night became darker still as one of the gargoyles landed hard on the hood of the truck, the weight of his stone form indenting a deeper wedge in the metal than where Ernesto had fallen. Severely damaged, the engine abruptly locked. The vehicle rocked back and forth from the force of impact as momentum carried us forward. I screamed. My chin smashed into the steering wheel. I bit through my tongue. My body collided with Millie as we tumbled around inside the hard unforgiving confines of the cabin. I blacked out briefly. When I regained awareness the vehicle was deadly still and Millie was slumped in a ball on the floorboard beside me. Before I could reach for her the crumpled doors of the vehicle were ripped from their hinges. Bloodless concrete hands snatched me from my perch. I kicked and squirmed trying to break loose but to no avail. “Be still, little girl.” Malevolent statue grey eyes flickering with a fluorescent hue beamed down at me before he snapped his head to the left. The nostrils at the end of his snout flared. “The Master will arrive shortly.” He dropped me to my feet on the ground in front of him. My bandana was lost. My hair was in my eyes. My mouth tasted like copper. Every muscle in my body was sore. And my heart was completely broken. The saggy eyed horned gargoyle stomped toward us with Millie in his arms. Her breathing sounded shallow. Her eyes were closed. I tried to dislodge the gargoyles’ cold grip from my shoulders but couldn’t. His claws only dug deeper into my flesh. “Millie, wake up,” I pleaded but she didn’t reply. Precious minutes passed while I was forced to stand alone alternating my tear blurred gaze from Millie to the smoke above the trees knowing what was unfolding only a few miles away but helpless to do anything to change it. Just when I felt like I was about to collapse, headlights from an approaching vehicle illuminated the wreckage of the truck first, then the horned gargoyle who held my sister cradled in his massive stone arms. Keep breathing, Amelia. Don’t die on me. “Kneel.” Marble hands dug unforgivingly into my shoulders. “Eyes to the ground prisoner and the Master may let you live,” the gargoyle hissed though his voice wavered. I did as he ordered but my heart thumped with dread knowing that his Master was Apollyon, one so feared he made even a creature of impenetrable stone tremble.
Fated Memories
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble EXCERPT: Kitty’s hands shook and her vision blurred with tears. It didn’t matter. After having read the short note three times, the words ‘… transfer to the second floor’ had been engraved on her brain. She’d found the letter in her mail slot at the hospital where she worked, just this morning. That’s Richard’s floor! The wound from their breakup still scarred her heart. What do I do now? Quit my job? The elevator doors opened and Richard Delaney stepped off surrounded by his physical therapy staff, who were tittering at one of his clever quips. Kitty wheeled around, making a beeline for the restroom. She couldn’t let him or those bitchy nurses see her cry. In her haste to become invisible, she miscalculated the corner of the wall and, smacking her shoulder against it, bounced back flat on her ass. Silence washed over the unit as everyone’s eyes turned to her. Flushed with embarrassment, she scrambled to her feet, faced her audience and curtsied. “I’m here all week, folks, don’t miss the show!” Then she burst through the lady’s room door. Kitty locked herself in the stall, working to salvage her dignity while dialing her cell phone for her pillar of strength; the one who always knew what to do. “Ma?” Despite her efforts to control it, her voice still shook. “Kitten, honey, are you crying? What’s the matter, are those silly boys in school teasing you again? Should I go speak with the principal?” “Funny, Mom, no I only need to talk to someone. Remember when I told you the hospital makes the ward clerks reapply for their jobs every few years so they can weed out the ones they no longer want? Well, it’s that time again. I got my take-it-or-leave-it offer today and it says they’re bumping me from the step-down unit, to the pits of the med/surg dungeon. If I don’t accept it, I’ll be out of a job. I don’t know what to do.” Silence. “Mom, are you still there?” “Yes, I’m here.” She blew out a long breath. “Kitty, you’re a smart lady, but if you don’t respect yourself enough to stand up and take charge of your life, you’ll always be at the mercy of others. Remember, the choices we make follow us and decide our fate.” “I know, Mom, but…” “The best advice I have for you, sweetheart, is to move home with us so you can go back to college and learn more marketable skills.” Kitty had battled with them before over this. In her mind, living with her parents at her age was the same as having a big red letter “L” tattooed on her forehead. “I see, okay. Um, I have to get back to work now. I’ll talk to you later, Ma. Thanks for listening.” As she washed off the mascara tracks from her tears, she studied her reflection in the restroom mirror, mulling over the misery that was her life. You’re almost thirty years old, Kitty Trausch, what have you got to show for it? A man? Not since Richard dumped me last year. A career? More like a crappy job that’s become unbearable. Kitty remembered her mom’s mantra “When the world gets rough,” she’d say, “remind yourself of the good things you have.” She thought hard for a positive slant, but only came up with her prized closet full of shoes and salvation from her acne plague. Great, at least that and two-seventy-five will get me on the subway. Oh, and one more good thing. Rooming with Sonia allowed her to walk the short distance to the hospital and not have to ride the train from Tuckahoe to Manhattan. Wow, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.
GIVEAWAY!
Seneca Rebel
by Rayya Deeb Genre: YA Release Date: June 1st 2016 ATM Publishing Summary from Goodreads: What if your one chance to change the world means you have to leave everything you love behind? In the not-too-distant future, math genius Doro Campbell is introduced to the Seneca Society: a secretive, technologically-advanced subterranean utopia dedicated to inventing and perfecting the most effective ways to benefit our planet. But thereâs a hitch. Like all that have come before her, Doro is given the ultimatum: Stay in Seneca forever, or leave now with no memory of the place, its goals, and its inhabitants. She stays. Her ideals are shattered when, together with biotechnology whiz, Dominic Ambrosia, Doro uncovers profound deceptions beneath the surface of this all too-perfect community. Will one teenage girl have what it takes to go up against swarms of drones, psychological manipulation and biological attacks, to uncover the truth and change the trajectory of the world?
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Explore Seneca: www.SenecaSociety.com
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"Seneca Rebel by Rayya Deeb is one of those rare books where all the elements come together to form a work of near perfection." Elisha Jachetti, YA Books Central
About the Author
Rayya Deeb is a Virginia Tech Hokie, born in London, England and raised in Northern Virginia. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two daughters. She has worked in television production and film development, but her true passion is writing. She has spent over a decade screenwriting, collaborating with some seriously incredible, world-renowned directors, actors and top-notch producers. Most recently she wrote her first novel, Seneca Rebel.
Rayya grew up on fresh Mediterranean food and an eclectic palette of music. 90âs hip-hop will always hold a special place in her heart, and her parentsâ LP collection that includes the Stones, Beatles and Dylan is one of her most valued possessions. She loves exploring the world, breaking bread with family and friends, and binge-watching shows like âHouse of Cardsâ and âThe Leftovers.â Rayya spends an absurd amount of time thinking about all things culinary, but considers it well worth it.
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Title: His Boy
Author: Bink Cummings
Genre: M/M Romance Novella
Release Date: May 25, 2016
For years, I lived with him as roommates. Then, one fateful night, things changed. We became more. So much more. The sex was out of this world. Being his boy was the highlight of my day. Until feelings started to creep in and sex wasn't enough for me. Afraid of losing him, I kept quiet and hoped for a miracle... Could my Daddy love me, too? Or would I continue to be his boy… his play toy?
Warning: Contains shameless adult sexual M/M content, adult language, taboo elements including those of consensual Daddy/Boy (non-incest) relationships, and whatever else that makes it unsuitable for anyone under the age of 18. Long 39K Standalone Steamy Novella - See some of your favorite characters from the Corrupt Chaos MC series and meet new Characters to be seen in the upcoming Crimson Outlaws MC series.
Author Bink Cummings was born and raised part of a biker family. Upon the incessant coercion from her sacred sisters, she has begun her newest journey in life--writing. When she's not shacked up in her home writing at all hours of the night, Bink enjoys riding motorcycles, taking care of her family, reading, and cooking huge meals--Especially her infamous chocolate chip cookies.
Maybe Never
Grab your copy today for only 99 cents! -- EXCERPT: Kinsley bites her lip. “I used to hate you but now I realize who I should be hating.” I stick my hands in my pocket to keep me from doing something stupid. “And now?” “Now I sorta love you.” I grin and do something stupid – despite trying as hard as I can to keep my hands firmly in my pockets, they fly out and grab Kinsley. One hand tangles in her newly cut hair that is still wet from being out in the rain too long. The other wraps around her waist where I can see her skin through the see-through portion of her dress in the middle, but I can’t touch her skin. And my lips touch her soft lips while my tongue tangles with hers in a desperate kiss. A kiss that I was afraid I would never get again. I thought she would still hate me. I thought she wouldn’t believe me, but somehow she did. Now I just have to protect her from the truth I just discovered. A truth that is a million times more hideous then what either of us knew to be true. But before I figure out how to protect her I have to have her. I can’t stand that I left her when she wasn’t safe. I can’t stand that I left her feeling like I didn’t love her. I can’t stand that I hurt her and I can’t stand that my cock isn’t already buried inside her within a minute of seeing her because I need to feel close to her. I need to forget what I just learned. I need to forget that if I choose to be with her past tonight I’m jeopardizing a career that I’ve worked my ass off for over ten years. “Excuse me ma’am. Would you like another glass of the Bordeaux you were drinking?” the cocktail waitress asks Kinsley. Kinsley reluctantly pulls her lips away from me. “No thanks.” “Sir?” I smile seeing that Kinsley ordered the first drink I ever got her. “No. I’m good.” Kinsley grabs her glass of wine behind her and finishes the last sip off before handing the empty glass to the waitress. “Thank you,” she says her eyes trained on my lips. Before the waitress even leaves, her soft plump lips are on mine, torturing me, knowing that I can kiss, but I can’t get what I want right now no matter how hard I get for her. I press my cock against her stomach to show her how much I need her. Her eyes open and are filled with her own need. She needs me. Now. I pull away so my lips are just resting on her. “Fuck, that look is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” She grins. “You haven’t seen sexy yet.” She grabs my hand and then we are walking instead of kissing. I let her lead me a few feet when I tug hard on her hand until she is spinning back toward me. I grab hold of her neck and kiss her again. She gives into the kiss as I sweep my tongue into her mouth. She moans just a little and then pushes me away laughing. “You have to stop that if you want more than just a kiss.” “What?” my eyes widen at her words. She leans forward until her mouth is at my neck. “If you want to fuck me, you have to stop kissing me so I can take you somewhere that is not swarming with people.” And then she sucks my neck before pulling away. I’ve taught her well. She grabs my hand again and then she’s leading me off the casino floor. I frown though when she doesn’t lead me to the lobby to get a room. “Where are we going? Shouldn’t we head to the lobby to get a room?” She bites her lip as she flashes me a wicked grin. “I can’t wait that long. Can you?” she cocks her head to the side and I realize I was wrong. This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She pulls on my hand again and we are walking faster down a long hallway and then another. I have no idea how she knows where she is going, but she does. She slows when she gets to the end of a hallway and then is pushing me into a bathroom. I grin. “You naughty girl.” Her tongue slips inside my mouth as her arms go around my neck hungrily. It’s the most desperate kiss I’ve ever felt from her and I match her hunger kiss for kiss. “God, I want you.” “Then take me.”
GIVEAWAY!
Title: Forgotten
Series: Surrender Series #3
Author: Rachel Madbury
Genre: Adult Romantic Suspense
Release Date: May 26, 2016
There was a time when Graciella Snow didn’t know what she wanted from life. Growing up without her mother had left her directionless and apathetic, her anger and resentment closing her off from everyone around her.
But that was before… After following in her mother’s footsteps to the coast of Maine she’s finally getting a sense for who she is and what she wants from life, but at what cost?
Falling in love with Alexander has opened her up in ways she never dreamed of, and now that love is on the line. Even with all of Alexander’s attempts to protect her, Grace finds herself in more danger than ever before as they learn the terrifying truth about her mother’s past, and come face to face with a darkness that refuses to be forgotten.
I can’t breathe. Everything is black and I’m choking, tight bands around my lungs keeping them from pulling in enough oxygen, stars alighting at the edges of my vision, blurring with the smoke wafting by.
But they’re not bands around my chest… They’re arms. A desperate, rigid grasp that holds me back from running headlong into the roaring fire that’s consuming my home. My life is in that fire. My history and my future. I rail against my captor, making out faint, gentle whispers in my ear, “No, Grace, no.”
Max, a member of the security team that my boyfriend Alexander brought in to protect me while they find whoever has been terrorizing us, is following the order his boss, Pauley, gave just before running into the burning building to look for Alex. His counterpart, Freddie, is next to me sagging against the hood of the car as savage coughs rack his body. Freddie’s brother, Jake, is off in the woods somewhere, searching for whoever he saw when he and Alex arrived to check on the alarm. They’d thought it was malfunctioning, having been unreliable in all the tests this week… they were wrong.
Months ago when I’d come to this house I’d expected to hate it. My mother had lived here for 15 years…without me. My dad had raised me in New Jersey while she’d stayed up here by herself. Her life was a mystery to me right up until she died last year. When she left me this house in her will I was confused, both with what I should do with it, and why she’d left me anything at all. We’d barely spoken, and I hadn’t seen her in years. My father had never stopped loving her. I, on the other hand, had just been angry. But as I spent more time here, supervising the renovations Alexander and his team were doing to the house so I could rent it out as a vacation home, my feelings started to shift. Being in her space, seeing what her life might have looked like, had started to take the sting out of her deserting us. When we’d found out that she had reported strange occurrences at the house, feeling like someone was watching her, I began to really worry about what had happened here, and why she’d stayed. Having come home to a houseful of broken windows a few months ago, and then waking up to two dozen murdered gulls, one in my kitchen sink, had seemed to link my mother’s time in this house with mine. But I never thought it would come to this. While proximity to her home and her life had helped shift perceptions, what had impacted me the most was something I never saw coming… or perhaps I should say someone. Alexander was the first man I’d ever gotten close to, the first one to ever touch a part of me I didn’t know was there. He’d had to face down his own demons to be with me, and he thought I was worth the pain that caused him. No one had ever done something like that for me before... We were only just beginning to discover each other, and ourselves. The shockingly brutal fear of losing the chance to continue on that journey with him is what seized my heart now as I watched in stunned horror as the house he’d painstakingly redone for me was reduced to nothing, and he was nowhere to be found. “He should have come out by now,” Freddie grunts, pushing off the car and heading around the side of the house. “Fred!” Max calls, but Freddie doesn’t turn around. “We have to find them!” I shout at him, pulling again on his hold, slamming my hands into his chest. Max is the youngest of the crew and up until now I had underestimated his strength. Feeling the full weight of his body used against me I can’t move an inch. “Goddamn it!” he curses, running after Freddie. We’re running around the side of the house toward the beach and rocky shore behind it. Even from a distance I can feel the searing heat of the fire. My eyes catch a quick, devastating glimpse of flames licking up the whitewashed pine walls before I’m jerked forward. Over the roar of the inferno I hear shouting in the darkness, and we follow it, nearly crashing into Freddie as he hauls Pauley’s limp body toward the sand. Max lets me go, taking Pauley’s other shoulder and carefully setting him down. They check his pulse and breathing, finding a deep gash on the side of his head. He’s alive. “What happened? Where was he?” My voice comes out panicked and desperate. “Damn porch collapsed on him,” Freddie snaps, checking the rest of him over for injuries while bending under his own hacking coughs. “Where’s Alex!” I scream at them, both their eyes flying to mine with anguished uncertainty. Freddie shakes his head. This can’t be happening.
Rachel Madbury is a writer of sexy romances whose alter ego rocks a classic 9-to-5 in the beautiful city of Boston. A life long New Englander who loves to travel she was slow to admit to being the romantic-at-heart that she is. Though she went to college for writing, she only recently began dabbling in the addictive world of romantic fiction…
It’s safe to say, she’s hooked.
With the help of plenty of Red Bull and late nights she explores the worlds of her characters, relishing the ride they take her on, and falling in love right beside them.
by Michael Weekly Genre: YA/NA Urban Fantasy Release Date: December 8th 2015 Limitless Publishing Summary from Goodreads:
When Eliza Rose found out she was a witch, she thought sheâd be casting spellsâ¦
However, it turns out Eliza is on her way to becoming a mystical assassin. But first she has to start college with her best friend Dawn Roberts and her feline familiar Jared. If you think college is stressful, try finding your best friend being seducedânearly to deathâby a venomous fairy. Something is horribly wrong, and Eliza must find out what it is.
Knowing whoâs who in the Mystical world can be a burdenâor save her lifeâ¦
Murderous mermaids, seductive fairies, and manipulative elves are terrifying enough, but pure witches can become corruptâ¦and theyâre the most dangerous creatures of all. Eliza struggles to discover the source of this chaos, but is repeatedly attackedâand saved by a shadowy figure. On a very personal note, Eliza must learn whether corruption is beginning to claim her mother.
Her strongest ally might be handsome, enigmatic Donovanâbut he is hiding a shocking secretâ¦
Donovan wants nothing to do with his old gangânot after the things theyâd made him do. But when he meets Eliza, heâs both frustrated by her amateur skills and impressed by her emerging strength, and he feels compelled to help her grow into the assassin sheâs meant to be.
Every answer has a price, and there are beings born to corrupt the pure.
Eliza fights to master her skills before itâs too late, while Donovan must determine whether Eliza can be savedâ¦or if she must die to keep her out of the hands of those who would use her powers to reign over all of Mystical.
About the Author
Michael Weekly is a professional writer known for his ability to construct detailed, believable worlds and then to inject them with captivating stories and relatable characters. His big break came three years ago when he started writing on a site called Wattpad. Prior to that, he had written mainly as a hobby and as an exercise in relaxation and meditation, using writing as an escape out of the world and into his own mind.
Writing in the genres of Urban Fantasy, Dystopian YA, and NA, Michael is the author of Mystical, which has earned a ton of positive feedback. Mystical was picked up by Limitless Publishing in 2015, and since then, Michael has been working on additional entries to the series. When he is not writing, Michael also enjoys playing video games such as League of Legends and World of Warcraft. He enjoys being a shopaholic and a professional foodie. He lives in Virginia with his imaginary fury companion CoCo, where the two live happily. Author Links: Only 99c for a limited time My name is Quinn Blackwood: By day, I'm a billionaire CEO. Rich. Entitled.By night, I'm the exclusive porn star only known as Q.Why? Because I love women. If I believed in an almighty being, I'd thank him for creating them. They're by far his most perfect creation… especially when I'm fucking one of them. Oh, did I mention I'm an asshole? Fuck yeah. According to my shrink, I'm one twisted motherfucker. And that's just the way I like it. Until she walks into my life… My name is Elyse Gilbert, nicknamed ‘Lucky' because according to my dad, I'm the unluckiest person alive, and I'll die the same way I came into the world: naked, screaming, and dirt poor. Yeah, my life is a twisted, seething mess. But that life changed the day I met HIM.He made me forget the cameras.He made me forget I was doing this for the money.He made me forget my shame.He made me forget everything. I was consumed by him. Only him. But now my past has caught up with me. I turn to the last screen. Her eyes are downcast. Her lashes are long enough to make me wonder if I have another fake on my hands. I sigh, then take in the rest of her face. No makeup, or barely any if she made the effort. Her lips are plump, lightly glossed. I use the controls on the remote to zoom in. There’s a tiny mole on the left side of her face, right above her upper lip. Not fake. I zoom out, examine the rest of her that I can see. Her grey T-shirt is worn to the point of threadbare, and her collarbones are a little too pronounced. Malnourishment wouldn’t be a crowd-pleaser, but that problem can be easily taken care of. Beneath the T-shirt, her chest rises and falls in steady breathing, although the pulse hammering at her throat gives her away. I zoom in on the pulse. The skin overlaying it is smooth, almost silky, with the faintest wisps of caramel blonde hair feathering it. Something about her draws me forward to the edge of my seat. I like her pretended composure. Most people fidget under the glare of a camera. My gaze flicks to her skeleton bio. “Lucky.” Slowly, she raises her head. Her eyelids flick up. Her eyes are a cross between green and hazel with a natural dark rim that pronounces its vividness. I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but something about that look in her eye sparks my interest. Hell, if I had a heart, I’d swear it just missed a beat. “Is that your real name?” She shrugs. “It might as well be,” she murmurs. Fuck, I have another liar on my hands. “Cryptic may be sexy if you’re auditioning to be the next Bond Girl. It’s not going to work here. Tell me your real name. Or leave.” “No.” Her voice is a sexy husk, enough to distract me for a second before her answer sinks in. “No?” “With respect, you’re tucked away behind a camera issuing orders. I get that you hold the cards in this little shindig. But I’m not going to show you all of mine right from the start. My name, for the purposes of this interview, is Lucky. It may not officially be on my birth certificate, but I’ve responded to it since I was fifteen years old. That’s all you need to know.” Well…fuck. I note with detached surprise that I’m almost within a whisker of cracking a smile. I rub my gloved finger over my mouth, torn between letting her get away with mouthing off to me this way, and sending her packing. Sure, she intrigues me. And whatever relevant truth I need would be dug out before she signs on the dotted line, should it come to that. But for this to work, she needs to obey my commands, no questions asked. “Stand up. Move away from the camera until you reach the wall.” She rises without question, restoring a little goodwill in her favor. Moving the chair out of her way, she backs up slowly. The hem of her loose T-shirt rests on top of faded jeans. Even before she’s fully exposed to the camera, I catch my first glimpse of the hourglass figure wrapped in the petite frame. She’s a fifties pinup girl dressed in cheap clothes. Her breasts are full but not quite double Ds, her thighs and calves shapely enough to stop traffic, with a naturally golden skin tone denoting a possible mid-west upbringing. She’s knock-out potential—subject to several nourishing meals. But I’ve seen enough and done enough in this twisted life of mine to know her body isn’t what would draw attention. It’s the look in her eyes. The secrets and shadows she is trying hard to batten down. They’re almost eating her alive. I don’t really give a shit what those secrets are. But the chance to fuck them…to fuck with them, expose them to my cameras, sparks a sinister flame inside me. “Turn around, let your hair down.” Her fingers twitch at her sides for a second before she faces the wall. One hand reaches up and pulls the band securing the loose knot on top of her head. Caramel and gold tresses cascade down her back. Thick enough to swallow my hands, her wavy hair reaches past her waist, the tapered ends brushing the top of her perfectly rounded ass. I watch her for a few minutes, then speak into the mic distorting my voice. “Do you have any distinguishing birth marks I should know about, Lucky?” The question sinks in. Her back goes rigid for a second before she forces herself to relax. “Yes.” “Where?” “At the top of my thigh,” she responds. “Show me,” I reply, although I don’t really need to see it. My carefully selected stylists can disguise any unseemly marks. Slowly, she turns around. I expect her gaze to drop or a touch of embarrassment to show, but she stares straight into the camera as her fingers tackle the buttons of her jeans. The zipper comes down and she shimmies the denim over her hips. Her white cotton panties are plain and the last word in unsexy. All the same, my eyes are drawn to the snug material framing her pussy lips. I also see the hint of bush pressed behind the cotton. I shift in my seat, but don’t reach for the hardness springing to life behind my fly. Hand jobs are a waste of my time. I either fuck or I don’t. It’s that simple. She lowers the jeans to knee-level and twists her right leg outward. The round red disk just on the inside of her thigh is distinctive enough to need covering up. I make a mental note. “Thank you, Lucky. You may put your clothes back on.” A hint of surprise crosses her face, but she quickly adjusts her clothing. When she’s done, her hands return to her sides. “It’s time for your screen test. Sweep your hair to one side and come closer. Place your hands flat on the desk, bend forward, but don’t sit down.” She follows my instructions to the letter. I adjust the camera so it’s angled up to capture her face. “Are you ready?” She gives a small nod. “You’ve just walked into a bar. You don’t know me. But you see me, the guy in the corner, nursing a bourbon. And I see you. All of you. Every fantasy you’ve ever had. I want to give it to you. You’ve found me, Lucky, the guy who wants to fuck you more than he wants his next breath. Do you see me?” Her nostrils quiver slightly. “Yes.” “Good. Look into the camera. Don’t blink. Show me what I want to see. Convince me that you’re worth fucking. Convince me you’re worth dying for.” Her lids lower, her face contemplative, but she doesn’t blink or lose focus. Slowly, her expression drifts from disinterested to captivated. Her lids lift and she’s a green-eyed siren. Her attention is rapt, unwavering. Her bruised-rose lips part, but she doesn’t swirl her tongue over her lips as I expect. She just…breathes. In. Out. She swallows, a slow movement that draws attention to her neck, then lower to her breasts. Mesmerized against my will, I watch her nipples harden against the thin material of her top. Her fingers gradually curl into the hard wood and every inhalation and exhalation becomes a silent demand. In…fuck…out…me… In. Fuck. Out. Me. I remain still, even though my fingers itch to twitch and my muscles burn with a restlessness I haven’t felt in a long time. I watch her command the camera, her body rigid with lustful tension. Her eyes widen with the need to blink, but she doesn’t. She stays still, hands curl into fists and she just breathes sex. Her eyes water and a tear slips down one cheek. The sight of it is curiously cathartic, a tiny climax. I subside into my seat. “That was convincing enough. You may sit down, Lucky.” She blinks rapidly before she sinks into the chair. A quick swipe and the tear never existed. Neither does the promise of the fuck of a lifetime that was on her face a moment ago. Her acting skills are remarkable. For a second, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I don’t want her to be too polished. I dismiss the notion and glance down at her notes. “You list your address as a motel?” The address in Queens is unfamiliar to me, but the motel chain is notorious for being exceptionally bad. I hide my distaste and wait for her answer. “I arrived in town recently. I don’t have a permanent address yet.” The secrets in her eyes, the threadbare clothes, the unkempt hair and unshaven pussy begin to tell their own story. She may be brave enough to sass me when she risks losing a job that promises a once in a lifetime payday, but she’s also desperate. How desperate is the question. “Are you currently working?” She nods. “I work on and off for a catering service. But it’s nothing I can’t work around, if needed.” “So you’ll be free to do this if I want you?” The desperation escalates, then a hint of anger flashes through her eyes. “If? You mean I did all of this for nothing?” I give a low laugh at her gumption. “You didn’t seriously think you’d waltz your way into a million dollars on a simple three-minute screen test, did you?” The anger flees from her eyes, although her mouth tightens for a moment before she speaks. “So it’s true? It’s not a con? This job really pays a million dollars? For…sex?” she rasps. “You think I’d admit it if it was a con?” Her delicate jaw flexes for a second. “I guess not. So…assuming it’s not a con, how will this work, then?” “If you pass the next few tests, and I decide you’re a good fit, you get the gig. You’ll receive one hundred thousand dollars with each performance.” “So…ten performances…over how long a period?” “Depending on how many takes are needed, anywhere between three weeks and a month. But I should warn you, it’s hard work, Lucky. If you think you’re just going to lie back and recite the Star Spangled Banner in your head, think again.” Her fingers drum on the table, the first sign of nerves she’s exhibited. “I…I won’t be doing anything…skanky, will I?” “Define skanky.” “This is going to be straight up sex. No other…bodily stuff? Because that would a firm no for me.” My mouth attempts another twitch. “No water works, waste matter or bestiality will be involved in the performances.” Her fingers stop drumming. “Okay.” She waits a beat, stares straight into the camera. “So when will I know?” I hear the barely disguised urgency and I rub my finger over my lip again. “Soon. I’ll be in touch within the week.” I’m not sure exactly why I want to toy with her. But I sense that having her on edge would add another layer of excitement I badly need. When she opens her mouth, I interrupt. “Goodbye, Lucky.” A passing thought about the origin of her name is crushed into oblivion. I press the remote to summon the bodyguard to escort her out, and I leave the room. In my study a few minutes later, I bring up the screen on my desk and activate the encrypted service I need. I open the application and within minutes, the members of my exclusive gentlemen’s club are logging in. My email is short and succinct. The next Q Production is scheduled for release on 20 May 2015. Limited to ten members. Bidding starts in fifteen minutes. Zara Cox has been writing for almost twenty-five years but it wasn't until seven years ago that she decided to share her love of writing sexy, gritty stories with anyone but her close family (the over 18s anyway!). The Indigo Lounge Series is Zara's next step in her erotic romance writing journey and she'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading her stories! Author Links Facebook Twitter Web Goodreads Amazon Page Instagram
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