Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon CA Nook Kobo iBooks I shamed my name. I am a whore. I am a disgrace. I’m all the things my mother made me. I wear my badge with pride because I know the truth, and only those worth a damn see me for who I am, not the label I choose to hide behind. I am a Domme. I would still rather be a whore than a hypocrite like my mother, or a victim like the daughter she raised me to be. As Mistress Selina, I can bring a grown man to his knees without so much as a crack of my handmade whip. I love the power and control—what’s not to love? I must be mad to even consider Dominant club owner and King of Kink Jason Sinclair’s proposition. Two Doms don’t make a right. Self-preservation has kept me at a safe distance from the one man who could change all that. The only man who wields power like a sensual sword and keeps me balanced on that knife’s edge. My choice is simple: He wants me to switch for him. But if I do, will I bleed or will I fall? Yes…the wedding. What is it about weddings?’ He muses. “I’m not sure it had anything to do with it being a wedding.” I laugh lightly. “No…You might be right. It had much more to do with you looking hot as hell, a convenient store cupboard and a lockable door.” He tips his glass and nods for a refill. I do the same suddenly feeling I need the liquid courage to play with the inferno sitting next to me. “After though…You didn’t return my call?” His gaze darkens. “That would be because there would be no point.” I quickly down the sweet coffee liqueur and mouth a large ice cube, I take my time playing with it in my mouth. Relishing the effect I am now having on the implacable Mr Sinclair. He swallows thickly, his eyes never leaving my mouth. I know I am playing with fire but it feels so good. “And why is that?” His casual tone betrays the heat in his eyes and the intensity of his glare. “Did you not have fun…because I seem to recall you had a great deal of fun.” He leans forward and pushes his hands between my legs and grabs the edge of the bar stool. My legs spread of their on volition just enough before I try to rectify their wanton error. Clamping tight against his wrist he pulls my seat closer to him. His muscular thighs trap me, his hand wedged between my legs, heavy lidded eyes bore into me with a fierceness that burns through my veins like wildfire. His thumb languidly stroking my inner thigh. I take a moment, relish the utter pleasure these strange erotic feelings coursing through me evoke. My heart is beating a hypnotic pattern in my chest, hard and fierce. I am acutely aware the precarious balance of control that I hold so dear begin to slip. I feel the shift like a physical change and it is alarmingly seductive how natural it feels to give over to someone so absolutely Dominant as Jason…It is too seductive. I raises a brow, my calm facade, a mask to my traitorous emotions. I use the tips of my fingers to pick up the remaining ice cube from my glass, I quickly palm it and stretch out to hold it flat and hard against Jason’s rock solid erection. The ice water socking his trousers but not diminishing the heat in my palm one bit. “Fuck Sam!” He barks out but doesn’t move, if anything he grinds into my hand and releases a deep moan. I can’t help laugh, that was not the reaction I was anticipating but then I should’ve known he wasn’t likely to run. He was much more likely to rise to the challenge he obviously thinks I am. “Jason.” I sigh reluctantly removing my hand. “Two Doms don’t make a right. We would not play well together. The wedding was an exception… I will give you that it was an amazing exception but-” “But nothing.” He growls his interruption. “See that is exactly why I didn’t return your call. I’m not one of your little submissives Jason and you sure as shit aren’t going to kneel for me anytime soon…although…” My index finger lightly taps my lips which carve a wicked grin at the very notion. “Yeah keep dreaming beautiful, because that is all that’s ever going to be.” He sniffs derisively but his eyes narrow while he slowly sips his drink. “But you weren’t always a Domme Selina?” His serious tone and leading question instantly kills my flirtatious mood. “Oh you have been busy.” I straighten myself creating a cool noticeable distance. “Daniel was just as much my wing man as I was his before Bethany and you know that. I’m not being intrusive. I am stating a fact. You weren’t always a Domme.” His dismissive tone is doing little to calm my irritation. “I doubt Daniel would’ve disclosed any details but if he did he would’ve informed you it was one time and it was the very last part of my training. My instructor insisted I understand both ends of the whip as it were.” I clarify stiffly. “Quite right too-” He nods in agreement. “But that doesn’t make me a sub Jason.” “No Samantha it doesn’t but you enjoyed it so that does in fact make you a switch.” His gaze seems to sear right through me with fire and so much desire I am starting to melt. What exactly I am struggling with? Is it that I actually like the turn this conversation is heading. No…I can’t… I can’t let it go there. “And your point is?” My attempt at annoyance seems to amuse him. He moves his hand from his drink to lightly pinch my chin making sure he holds my eye contact. Not that I could look anywhere else…not that I’d want to. “My point Selina… is I want you to switch for me.” His lethal glare scorches my breath from my lungs as I let out an inaudible gasp. “So tell me Selina, what is it going to take?” His assured cockiness is interrupted by my incredulous laugh. “Oh Jason…that is sweet and I’m flattered, really I am.” His instant scowl darkens at my flippancy and condescending tone. “What is it about me that your think is sweet exactly?…Do I look like a man that doesn’t get everything he wants?” He slips his hand around the back of my head and grabs a tight hold of my long sleek pony tail. I don’t flinch but my heart does feel like it is trying to beat its way through my chest. “Do I?” I retort and hold his fiery gaze. “Damnit Selina…you most definitely do not look like a man.” He sniffs out a laugh and his lips bite back a grin. “Give me one day.” He pauses to let the words sink in but the evident confusion must be etched on my face because it makes him clarify further. “Give me one day to change your mind. Spend the whole day with me and if I can’t convince you to submit to me…then…” “Then?” I tip my chin for his answer but my movement is still restricted by his hold. “Then it will be the first time I do not get what I want.” He grumbles and I laugh loudly shaking free from his grip. “And if I do agree to submit… it will be a miracle.” I taunt. He stands stepping into my personal space, putting pressure enough to widen my legs to accommodate him just that little bit closer. “I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning.” He leans down, his words kiss my neck like a tempting promise. “Tomorrow? It’s Christmas Day?” I sag a little when he moves away, fighting the moan at his sudden loss of heat. “Perfect day for a miracle.” He pauses at the doorway, holding my gaze for long seconds before stepping through the curtain leaving me a mess of heat and confus One lucky person will win a Buckley (London) “Air” necklace and earrings. Rafflecopter giveaway. Dee Palmer hates talking about herself in the third person so I won’t. My husband had my iPod engraved one Christmas with ‘sing like no-one’s listening’ and I know my family actually wish they weren’t listening because I am, in fact, tone deaf but it doesn’t stop me and this gentle support has enabled me to fulfil a dream. This has been a truly brilliant experience, I wrote The Choices Trilogy back to back and released them this year just one month apart...Don't you hate waiting for the next book in a series? The entire process has undoubtedly been made possible by my incredibly supportive family. I know this is very much an acknowledgment but I know I wouldn’t be writing even this single paragraph if it wasn’t for them so this is about who I am, I am because they let me be.
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STRANDED by: J.C. Valentine Night Calls, #1 Publication Date: November 2, 2012 Genre: Adult, Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance #FREE on All Platforms! Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iTunesSynopsis: Burned, Felix Sinclair has all but vowed never to get seriously involved with another woman as long as he lives. After a long day's work, Felix Sinclair is looking forward to getting back to his luxury apartment in the city. When he detours onto a road less traveled in order to shave off some travel time, the last thing he expects is to wind up stranded in a roadside ditch in the middle of a downpour--or to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman. Recently divorced, jobless, friendless and utterly alone, Poppy Montgomery is struggling to convince herself that single life is what she wants--needs. Then a handsome stranger staggers into her life and sparks fly. Riding out the storm together is bound to stir up heat, but once it passes, will they be able to walk away? AUTHOR’S NOTE: STRANDED is the first in an interconnected series of erotic romance. Each book can be read as a stand alone, but you will find that each new character has been previously introduced in some way. As an introduction to the series, STRANDED is a novella, but rest assured each new addition will be a full length novel worth sinking your teeth into.EXCERPTAs he rocked against her, she could feel his length probing her entrance, and she lifted her hips, eager to take him in. Felix laughed and pulled his hips back. Poppy groaned her displeasure. “So impatient.” He kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair away from her face as he gazed down at her. “Not yet, kitten. First things first. Do you have any condoms in here?” Startled, Poppy shook her head. She didn’t think she would ever find herself in this situation again, so she never thought to keep any on hand. Sex hadn’t been the farthest thing from her mind, exactly, but having it with a man certainly had been. She had even stopped taking her birth control. And here she was, preparing to let some guy she’d known for two minutes plunge himself into her, and she hadn’t even thought about protection of any kind. She wanted to slap herself for being so stupid. “That’s okay,” Felix assured her. “I have a couple in my wallet. I just have to go and get them.” He pushed himself off her and Poppy squirmed from the loss. “I’ll be right back.” She watched as he walked away, completely naked and not caring in the least. He looked almost as good walking away, she thought, smirking to herself. Lying in complete silence made the time stretch on forever. Bo shifted in the corner and huffed loudly, and Poppy’s head snapped up. He was staring at her in that way that animals sometimes do that makes you feel completely exposed and a little shameful. “What?” Poppy asked, refusing to feel guilty. “I’m not doing anything wrong.” Bo tilted his big head and looked at her quizzically. “Don’t look at me like that. When you go without sex for as long as I have, then we can talk. Besides, he seems like a perfectly nice guy, and I don’t see you kicking up a fuss.” Felix strode into the room then and looked at her strangely. “Who are you talking to?” Propped on her forearms, Poppy smiled shyly. “Just Bo.” “Ah.” He glanced back at Bo. “I don’t think he likes me.” Poppy waved him off. “If he didn’t like you, I think you’d be missing a limb right now. Bo is very protective of me, and the fact that he hasn’t tried to kill you for touching me yet is pretty telling.” “Yet being the operative word,” Felix muttered as he climbed onto the bed and settled himself between her legs again. He held up a foil packet. “I wonder how old Bo is going to react when his master is screaming to the heavens.” He wagged his eyebrows at her and tore the foil open with his teeth. “Screaming, huh?” Poppy’s belly clenched with anticipation. She watched as he rolled the condom down his erection. “Oh yes,” he assured her with a wicked smile. When he positioned himself at her opening, Poppy drew back slightly. “I thought you said we were taking things slow?” Dropping down onto his forearm, Felix kissed her lips lightly and pushed the tip of his erection into her. Poppy sucked in a breath. “I did say that, but then I came back to find you all spread out, waiting for me, and I changed my mind. I won’t lie, this time will be fast. But after that, I’m going to take all the time in the world to get to know this body.” “I—Ah!” Felix shoved his way into her body and Poppy nearly came undone. He was bigger than she was used to and he stretched her, touching every inch of her and creating a delicious friction that threatened to push her over the edge. He was right. This would be fast.#AnOverwhelmingNeed#STRANDEDABOUT J.C. VALENTINEJ.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Series. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry. J.C. earned her own happily ever after when she married her high school sweetheart. Living in the Northwest, they have three amazing children and far too many pets and spend much of their free time together enjoying movies or the outdoors. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors. Sign up for J.C.’s newsletter and never miss a thing! http://bit.ly/1KxXWWBWebsite • Twitter • Facebook • GIVEAWAYUltimate Vengeance by Nancy Haviland Wanted Men, #4 Publication Date: May 31, 2016 Genre: Adult, Contemporary Mafia Romance, Organized Crime Purchase: Kindle | Amazon CA | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | B&N | Kobo | iTunesSynopsis: To a young Russian girl raised to respect and fear the Bratva, gaining the attention of the impressive Sovietnik from a ruling organization was a terrifying thing. Alekzander was a dangerous temptation Sacha Urusski had no hope of resisting. Predictably, her heart was decimated and she was left bleeding…with a precious reason to go on. But when Alekzander bullies his way back into her quiet life and offers a confession that absolves him of his sins, rather than celebrate, Sacha is forced to acknowledge an alarming truth; she has now become the villain in their story. Or so she thinks. When the most damaging secret of all is revealed, her final hope dies and she’s left with no other recourse. She must run. Sixteen months ago, Alekzander Tarasov made the mistake of his life when he annihilated his relationship with his soulmate. At the time, protecting her was his only thought. Now, after attempting to live without her, his focus has changed. He wants her back where she belongs. And he’ll stop at nothing to drag his curvy angel away from her new life and so deep into his world of violence and uncertainty she’ll never find her way out again. Through a deluge of secrets and lies, disillusionment and broken faith enters a world where loyalty and trust reign. Will Alek and Sacha’s battered love be strong enough to survive? Or will it be a sense of duty that inexorably binds them together in the end?EXCERPT - No Place to Hide (Ultimate Vengeance)No. She couldn’t get Alekzander into trouble with the law simply because he’d stopped loving her and had chosen to move on without telling her first. She should. She should spill every little secret she had, not that there were many. But she never would. Despite everything, he was her daughter’s father. Then again, she thought, feeling ill, if it came down to it and she had to choose between keeping Lekzi in her life and Alekzander’s freedom, well, there was no choice. But until then… “That would not work because I was never personally aware of anything he or his family did that might have been illegal. For all I know, their intimidating reputation could have been created simply to make themselves feel special.” She saw Justin’s head turn her way but didn’t meet the look because then he’d see she was lying through her teeth. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “This may sound insensitive, but why didn’t you go back home to your family when things fell apart here?” Wishing he could drive faster, she answered honestly. “I am an only child, and, as you know, my parents are gone. But even if I had someone there, at that time, I could not afford to go home.” He frowned in confusion, so she went on, her cheeks heating. “While I was with Alekzander, I did not work, or go back to school as I had planned. When I left Russia, I dropped out of my fourth year of university,” she explained. “But I had every intention of applying to colleges here so I could finish my liberal arts degree. I had planned to go into the field of Human Resources, but, as I said, I did not.” She moved on because she could hear how defensive she was beginning to sound. “Alekzander enjoyed having me at home, and I enjoyed being there for him.” Shame coated that last bit, revealing how little she thought of the decision she’d made back then. She should never have given up her independence. She suspected that had much to do with what had happened. “So he kept you broke and dependent on him?” Justin questioned as they came out of the tunnel and traveled the relatively empty streets of Queens heading for Sunnyside. “No, of course not. He was very generous. I had credit cards and a bank account that I could use freely.” Feeling small, she wanted to add that she wasn’t a parasite, but hearing herself, she found she couldn’t. Her and Alekzander’s first real fight had been about her working to save the money she would need to return to school. He’d convinced her it wasn’t something that had to be decided right then and had quieted her protests by saying they’d discuss her education later. It had always been later. And she’d let him get away with discounting her future. Had she not been such a pushover, so eager to please him, would things have been different? “I did not use his money after things ended,” she murmured. “Why? Any other woman, especially a pregnant one, would have withdrawn a large chunk of cash—especially because as a Tarasov he could certainly afford it—and lived off it until she was back on her feet. Why didn’t you?” “Because I did not want his money. I did not want anything from him.” She shifted, grinding her teeth at the warble in her voice. It signified weakness, and that embarrassed her. “Anyway,” she said, sneaking in another common word Americans used regularly. “How could I go home when I did not have enough money to buy an airline ticket, to rent an apartment once I got there, and to live until I found a job? I could not. So I stayed here where it had already become familiar. And Lekzi and I have done fine without him. Our life is simple, but that is all we need.” She might not have two homes and a private jet, but despite having to save most of her earnings, she was providing for her daughter, and she was proud of that. When they eventually turned onto her street, she tried not to think about what it would cost her, financially and emotionally, to start over again. Another new city, no friends, no job, no place to live. And it would be so much worse this time because she was dragging her innocent daughter along, making her baby suffer for the sins of her parents… The world stilled for a split second before Sacha felt the impact of her reality hit with the force of a punch. A group of well-dressed men milled about in front of her apartment building. Two were on the sidewalk speaking with a uniformed NYPD officer while another two stood in front of the main entrance of the three-story walk-up. Oh, God. “I told you.” Her whisper was eerily accepting. “He has come for me.”#OWNYOU#MOSTDANGEROUSMANDON'T MISS THE OTHER SIZZLING BOOKS IN THE WANTED MEN SERIES, FEATURING SEXY ALPHAS AND THE WOMEN THAT CONQUER THEIR HEARTS...#FREE with #KINDLEUNLIMITED: AmazonABOUT NANCY HAVILANDNancy Haviland, author of the bestselling organized crime series, WANTED MEN, writes about her alpha mobsters and their ladies from her home near Toronto, Ontario. She fights for space on her keyboard with her arrogant kitty named Talbot, and adores her Tim Horton’s coffee; as any self-respecting Canadian would. She writes contemporary romantic suspense but will happily read anything that involves two people smooching. A member of Romance Writers of America, Nancy is represented by Nalini Akolekar of Spencerhill Associates, and is published by Montlake Romance/Amazon Publishing.Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Newsletter | Amazon Author Page GIVEAWAY
Title: Unbreakable
Series: Fallen Aces MC #1.5
Author: Max Henry
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: May 31, 2016
Even after a broken heart is repaired, can the scars be too many for it to beat the same again?
Six years and a promotion to club president later, I’ve finally had enough of her excuses. The lies have to stop. She IS worth the risk, I’ve NEVER gone a day without thinking about her or my son, and I know underneath it all she DOES still love me. This time, she'll come home for good … she just doesn’t know it yet.
Max is the author of dark, and highly emotional romance. Her Butcher Boys series is centered around a group of ex-street kids who have teamed up with an indebted motorcycle club to take down a notorious drug lord. And her new series, the Fallen Aces MC, is a spin-off from this dark and dangerous world. Her writing has been described as 'gripping', and 'addictive', taking you on an 'emotional roller coaster ride'. Originally born and bred in New Zealand, Max now resides with her family in beautiful and sunny Queensland, Australia. Life with two young children can be hectic at times, and although she may not write as often as she would like, Max wouldn't change a thing. When she's not engrossed in her dark and twisted fictional worlds, she can be found enjoying the outdoors while 4wd-ing with her family.
Cozy Mystery / Comedy
Date Published: June 20, 2016
Anna just wants to earn enough money on the side to buy into the bakery, Callie’s Cakes, where she works together with her best nerd pal Callie. The last thing she expects to see when she walks into Arthur’s apartment to do some moonlighting is a blood bath. Callie’s ready to jump into the investigation into Arthur’s murder, and she’s bringing another bakery worker, Kristie, into their hijinks whether Kristie wants to or not. But things aren’t as they seem. There are gang affiliations, illegal gambling dens, and ladies of the night to wade through. Will Anna and Callie discover who murdered Arthur or will Callie’s detective boyfriend Ben and Anna’s self-appointed protector put a stop to such aspirations?
Come join us at Callie’s Cakes, where murder investigations are on the menu, but make sure to bring your own baker because Anna’s a bit preoccupied at the moment.
Warning: This is NOT your mom’s cozy mystery. Bring Your Own Baker may be a ‘clean’ read, but if gangs, illegal gambling, and pimps make you turn your nose up at your e-reader, you might want to skip this one. Although you’ll be missing some sizzling chemistry between Anna and her protector. Not to mention a whole bunch of witty dialogue.
EXCERPT
I grasp the weapon in my hand and throw it with all my might at him. The weapon makes a ‘tee hee’ sound as it hits his stomach.
“Did you just throw a Pillsbury dough boy at me?” His voice carries a hint of humor. The Pillsbury dough boy was probably not the best item to grab from the kitchen to use as a weapon. Obviously, I’m totally losing it.
I inch backwards into the kitchen searching for a more appropriate weapon. Dag nab it! The knives are way over on the other side. I have no choice. Without taking my eyes of the man, I grab a perfectly formed and probably fricking delicious muffin from the tin and throw it at the intruder. Apparently, my fast ball needs some work as he just catches the muffin as if I merely lobbed it in his direction. He smiles and, not bothering with the paper liner, takes a huge bite.
“Mmmm…,” he groans around a mouthful. “This is really good.”
“Seriously?” I throw my arms in the air before planting my hands on my hips. “If you want my muffins, just come to the bakery. You don’t have to break in.” Uh oh, I nearly forgot that he broke in. I start backing up again, getting ever closer to those knives.
The man’s eyes narrow as he notices me shuffling my way towards the knives. He stalks me and, when he’s only an arm’s length away, reaches around me and grabs the knife block. He keeps his eyes steady on me as he places the block on top of the refrigerator. Somewhere I can only reach if I get out my step ladder.
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” I may be terrified and my voice my stutter a bit, but I’m not backing down. Not. One. Bit.
“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
“Who you calling little?” Apparently, I have no regard for my safety at all as I’m now goading an intruder.
The man chuckles. His smile shows a perfect set of teeth. Huh, not exactly what I expected from Mr. Piercings and Tattoos. “For a pink-haired pixie, you sure aren’t afraid, are you?”
I grew up reading everything I could get my hands on from my mom's Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew to Little Women. When I wasn't flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although I did manage every once in a while to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic after returning to the law. Another job change, this time from lawyer to B&B owner and I was again fed up and ready to scream I quit, which is incredibly difficult when you own the business. Thus, I shut the B&B during the week and in the off-season and started writing. Several books later I find myself in Istanbul writing full-time.
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Book #1 of the series, Never Trust a Skinny Cupcake Baker, is on sale for 99 cents Today!!!
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Amazon US Amazon UK Amazon CA Lost Kings MC Boxed Set, Includes Books 1-3, plus bonus material. SLOW BURN (Lost Kings MC, Book #1) Forced to represent an outlaw biker, a married attorney must come to terms with her feelings for her client while avoiding the danger he brings into her sedate life.
CORRUPTING CINDERELLA (Lost Kings MC, Book #2) Love is the ultimate outlaw. How do a lawyer and a badass biker with a heart of gold keep their love alive while their opposing worlds collide? STRENGTH FROM LOYALTY (Lost Kings MC, Book #3) As a dark cloud descends over Hope and Rock’s already precarious future, will a long-hidden secret push them both past the point of no return?
Bonus Scene #1 Prom Dress
Bonus Scene #2 Prom Dress
PLUS, character interviews, and other exclusive-to-this-boxed-set material.
I’m halfway to my car when Murphy’s voice stops me. “Hope! Wait up.” “What’s up?” I ask when he reaches me. “Nothing. Wanted to walk you to your car.” My silence tells him I’m not buying it. He opens my car door for me, and I toss my purse on the passenger seat but don’t get in. “What’s on your mind, Murphy?” “Thanks for doing that for her today. Teller better have thanked you.” “He did. Is that really why you raced down here?” His grin falters. “It’s just…her mom’s never been around and her grandmother hated doing that kind of stuff for Heidi. Teller and I used to try…but it’s not the same.” Damn. I’m going to cry if he keeps this up. “I was happy to do it. We had fun.” “Funny thing is, I know you mean that, Hope.” He chuckles when I frown. “I know you ain’t doin’ it to impress Rock. You got our prez so whipped he can barely see straight.” “Hardly.” “And you got no reason to wanna be in Teller’s good graces. Hell, you probably wanna smack the shit out of him.” “Well…” “I’m glad she has you now.”
Autumn prefers to write her romances on the classy side of dirty, and she's a sucker for a filthy-talking, demanding alpha male hero. The bigger the better. She believes true love stories never end. Some of Autumn's favorite hobbies include reading, writing, acting, music and horror movies. When she's home, her faithful Pug is always by her side. She's an active member of her local chapter of Romance Writers of America. Autumn was born and raised in upstate New York. She still enjoys all four seasons there with her very own alpha hero and their three rescue dogs. You can find Autumn on Facebook and she always loves to hear from readers at:
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Title: Moms On Missions
Series: Mommageddon Series #1
By: Jess Molly Brown
Publication Date: May, 2016
Genre: Contemporary/Humor Women's Fiction
Artist Vince Russo wants to advance his career but his devout mother, Diana, wants grandchildren. Vince lives in Niagara Falls, the Romance Capital of the World, and he doesn’t even date! Diana joins the Moms on Missions (“MOM”), who strive to better the lives of their clients’ kids. MOM installs Vince’s fantasy girl upstairs in the duplex where he lives. Their pick for Vince is sick of dancing to her mother’s tune, so she certainly won’t admit she finds her sensitive, playful neighbour sexy. However, she’d love to make him her pseudo-boyfriend to get MOM off her back. Will these young rebels come together organically, or is there no hope for their moms?
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/1WNiVgv
Amazon UK - https://goo.gl/6xz9hB
Amazon CA - https://goo.gl/lzRNsI
“Fuck you!” Drum Boy slams Mrs. P.'s door in his superintendent’s face. Vince stares open-mouthed at the door in front of him, then turns on the landing to find Paeng at the foot of the stairs, dressed for bed, with no glasses. Steaming, Vince tromps back down the stairs, in time to hear the drumming start again. “What a nerve this guy's got! Little shit.” Now Drum Boy is singing, too. Badly. Vince stops, wondering whether to turn around and march back up there to rattle his teeth. Instead, he stomps back into his unit, Paeng at his back, and calls Damon. “Vince, hey, how’s it hangin’?” Damon asks cheerfully. “Want to hit The Hill for a few beers? I’m dying to get out for a bit.” “No. Do you hear this?” Vince holds up his phone to the ceiling, hoping it picks up the noise. Boom boom chuck budda boom boom chuck budda “I don’t need a frickin’ girlfriend!” Boom boom chuck budda boom boom chuck . . . “My neighbour is an asshole!” “What is that?” Damon asks stupidly. “It's your new tenant,” Vince growls. “He drums twenty-four seven. I have explained this to you, Damon. Twice. The last time Paeng and I had two minutes’ peace was the day before he moved in. I am losing it, man. I’m going to go postal soon. If I do, you are going to have to explain why to our mothers, and you are going to have to comfort them both while I’m getting corn-holed in Kingston Pen for capping the little bastard, capisce?” “Whoa-ho-ho, there Vince! Did you say there's a guy living up there? It was supposed to be Mrs. Maggione’s friend Gloria’s daughter, Mary. She’s gor—” Damon checks himself, and Vince scowls. “Um, I mean uh . . . Trudy?” he calls to his wife. “Get me another beer!” Vince counts to ten. “Did Moms on Missions set this up?” There is silence for a couple beats. From Damon, not Drum Boy. The noise from above is as obnoxious as ever. Damon sighs. “Yeah, you know it. I didn't even meet the Chiclet.” “No, no, it’s a guy! And the name on the mailbox says D. Darren, not M. diGiordano. Why didn’t you come to check out the tenant?” “My mother wouldn't put a crackhead in there, ya know?” “And a drummer makes a better tenant because . . .”
Don’t be fooled by the seeming tranquility, Jess is scheming. There are a lot of characters in her head and all of them are yelling for attention.
She edits for professional authors and is always tutoring somebody. She got her start six years ago, in fan fiction, and is proud of it.
Four great kids, one husband *coughbiggestkidofallcough* and two dogs ensure that the house is always messy. The garden’s overflowing with blooms, but weedy. The grass always needs cutting, provided it’s not buried beneath snow. She lives in Canada, eh? The dogs are walked, the kids get fed, the hubbs hasn’t killed anybody yet, the books Jess reads she reviews, and somehow, the people in her head manage to make it into stories. Occasionally, she embarrasses her kids by doing Zumba in front of their friends. It’s just how she rolls.
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by Laura Diamond Genre: YA Contemporary Romance Release Date: April 12th 2016 Swoon Romance Summary from Goodreads:
Bookish Brit Adam Gibson is one wonky heartbeat away from a fatal arrhythmia. He's torn between wanting to live and knowing that someone else must die in order for him to do so. He needs a new heart.
Adam stops talking to his friends, refuses to meet kids at his new school, and shuts his parents out entirely. His days are spent wondering if can cope with having a dead man's heart beating inside his chest, or if he should surrender to the thoughts of suicide swirling around in his head.
And then a donor is found.
Outspoken artist Darby Fox rarely lets anything stand in her way of achieving her goals. She also happens to be the twin sister to a perfect brother with good looks, good grades, manners, and the approval of their parents - something Darby has never had.
Darby's always had bad timing. She picks the worst time to argue with her brother Daniel. In a car with bald tires, on an icy road in the freezing cold, the unthinkable happens. In a split-second, everything changes forever.
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Excerpts:
ADAM:
I clutch my well-worn paperback of Mary Shelleyâs Frankenstein close to my heart. The doctor robbed graves, stealing body parts to create his monster. I suppress a shiver. In a way, the transplant surgeon does the same thing by harvesting a donorâs organs when theyâre on the brink of death. If I get prioritized on the list, Iâll be waiting for that poor victim to arrive. Then Iâll steal his or her heart and with it, their life.
Then Iâll be the monster.
DARBY:
Images blur on a merry-go-round from Hell that spins faster with each turn. Sleet pounding the windshield. Daniel fighting with the clutch and brake. The truckâs headlights impaling us. Crunching steel. Danielâs bloody face.
Pain stretches from my head, dragging its dirty talons down my neck and across my shoulders, ending in cold numbness at my chest. Something presses my body down. I canât move. I canât escape it.
About the Author
Laura Diamond is a board certified psychiatrist currently specializing in emergency psychiatry. She is also an author of all things young adultâboth contemporary and paranormal. An avid fan of sci-fi, fantasy, and anything magical, she thrives on quirk, her lucid dreams, and coffee. When sheâs not working or writing, she can be found sniffing books and drinking a latte at the bookstore or at home pondering renovations on her 225 year old fixer upper, all while obeying her feline overlords, of course.
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Title: Dream Magic
Series: The Magic Series #2
By: Michelle Mankin
Publication Date: June 7, 2016
Genre: Paranormal Romance
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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
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.
The New York Times bestselling author of the Black Cat Records series of novels.
Romance with subtext.
Reimagining classic stories with sexy rock stars and thought provoking issues.
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. When Michelle is not prowling the streets of her Texas town listening to her rock 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 as she takes the children to school and back.
Social Media Links Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Michelle-Mankin/233503403414065 Twitter - @MichelleMankin Website - http://www.michellemankin.com/ Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5835506.Michelle_Mankin Instagram - #MichelleMankin
Curse
EXCERPT: Dr. Waxford wound his way along the road, climbing higher into the Great Smoky Mountains.
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