Sky Purington's Blog, page 21

Sarai's Fortune, Shadowcat Nation, Book 2 by Abigail Owen.

Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over Abigail Owen, author of Sarai’s Fortune, Shadowcat Nation, book 2, a paranormal romance.
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Number of pages: 246Word Count: 60,000
Book Description
Zac Montclair's first priority is to protect his people. With the escalating war between factions of shifters over land and resources, he has agreed to an alliance between his polar bears and the Shadowcat Nation of cougar shifters. But the treaty comes with a condition…he must accept one of their Seers into his Timik and put her under his personal protection.
Sarai Bouchard doesn't need her supernatural gift to know that Kyle Carstairs's obsession with controlling her ability will eventually result in her misery and demise. Her power is essential to her people's survival, so when Kyle goes rogue, she's sent to Zac Montclair to keep her safe. However, her visions reveal that while staying will lead to their becoming lovers, it also leads to his death. Leaving Zac will result in her own.
If Sarai can't find a way to change the future, she will be forced to choose…save her lover or save herself. 
Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card, Mary Kay makeup to "Get the Look from the Book" - to look like my cover model and eBook copies of Hannah's Fate (prequel) and Andromeda's Fall (Shadowcat Nation #1)
Excerpt  
Sarai concentrated on precise, sharp movements with as much power as she could muster. She’d only been working out for ten minutes or so. She’d started the day similarly  yesterday. She cooked breakfast, eating with the guys. She dragged George and Scott on more sightseeing trips. Today she’d decided to explore a small portion of Central Park. She didn’t try to lose them this time. When they’d got home, they’d hit the gym.
Now, Sarai tuned out Scott and George—who were sparring across the way from her—to focus on her own drills.
“How about you try that out on a man who moves and reacts.”
Sarai spun on her heel to find Zac standing behind her. He was wearing running pants and a tight tank top, which meant she didn’t need to use her imagination to picture the muscles of his arms and chest. They were on display. Her own personal show. Sarai swallowed.
Then she computed what he’d said. How was she going to get out of this? The truth was she couldn’t spar. Her visions messed her up. But that was a secret she had no intention of sharing with three people.
“Not really a good idea.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he glanced over her shoulder at George and Scott who’d stopped to listen. “I’ve got this, fellas. Why don’t you go back up to the apartment?”
There was no doubt in her mind that was a command, not a suggestion. Clearly the guys thought so too. She watched them leave the room with wide eyes.
As the door closed behind them, Zac’s hands landed on her shoulders, turning her to face them. “Okay, kuluk. It’s just you and me now. What are you not saying?”
Sarai had never felt this vulnerable in her life. Or this scared. This man got to her in a way no one else ever had. How was she supposed to resist that?
“Why is this so important to you?”
He moved his hands from her shoulders to frame her face, his fingers threading through the dark blond strands of her hair. “Keeping you safe is important to me. I need to know how much you can defend yourself if you have to. It will help me determine just what I need to prepare for. No surprises. Okay?”
Sarai took a deep breath. He couldn’t have meant it that way. Just the thought of being important to this big, strong man connected with the frightened, lonely little girl who’d spent her life just trying to survive. But she couldn’t think that way. She had to leave him, and that knowledge made her want to cry.
Seeing her hesitation, he brushed her cheeks softly with the pads of his thumbs. “Let me help you with this burden,” he murmured softly, his voice a hypnotic, deep rumble.
Sarai bit her lip. Sharing this with him really wasn’t that big a deal. She knew she could trust him.
On a deep inhale, she gave a tiny nod and started talking before she could change her mind. “Okay.”
He gave her one of those rare little half-smiles, making her suddenly very glad she had agreed to capitulate. Thankfully, he released her and stepped back, giving her room to breathe.
Let’s Interview!
If you could spend an hour in real life with one of your characters, who would it be and why?
Ooohh… tough question but interesting to think about. As hot as all my heroes are, they’re taken. I think I’d spend time with Andie (Andromeda) from Andromeda’s Fall. She is tough and snarky, but she cares deeply about her people and she loves fiercely. She also has an interesting background. I think she’d be fun to meet in person.
Tell us a little bit about the conflict in your story.
Zac is asked to be Sarai’s protector. Sarai – a Seer – has seen that if she stays with Zac he’ll die. But if she leaves him, she’ll die. At the same time, she’s also seen that they’ll become lovers. So she’s not just choosing between two lives, but between her life and that of her lover.
Are you currently working on another story? If so, we’d love some details.
I have a couple of projects running at the moment. I’m in editing on Tieryn’s Fury – the third book in the Shadowcat Nation series. It will continue the story of the mountain lion shifters, but through a new hero/heroine’s eyes. I’m writing the fourth and final book of that series now (untitled). In the meantime, I’m waiting on a release date for Blue Violet – the first book in my Svatura series and starting edits on the second book in that series. Lots to look forward to!
What sort of personality does your hero have?
Zac is a polar bear shifter who has been leading his clan of shifters since his parents were killed when he was young. At first glance he’s unemotional, closed off, and harsh. But closer inspection will reveal someone who is fiercely loyal to and protective of those he loves. He’s a natural leader, decisive, and responsible. He is determined to protect Sarai – at first because of a promise to a friend – but gradually it becomes something more personal. But self-sacrifice is part of this shifter’s personality—anything to keep loved one’s safe.
What sort of personality does your heroine have?
Sarai is a mountain lion shifter who has a rare additional gift as a Seer. She’s led a troubled life, essentially a prisoner in her own home, always fearing for her safety. Her gift also means she’s seen a lot more than she would ever wish to – something she sees as a curse. While she is vulnerable and mistrusting of everyone, she is also surprisingly resilient. She’s learned to protect herself and won’t let Zac do all the heavy lifting in that department.
It’s time to promo. What is your favorite marketing tool?
I try something a little different every time. My favorites at the moment are Facebook Parties and Blog Tours. I love the opportunity to discover new blogs and meet new readers. I do some advertising, though I’m still experimenting with that part. And of course there’s a ton of posting on my website, blog, facebook fan page, twitter, and so forth.
What genre/genres do you prefer to write? Are there other genres you’d like to write in the future?
I prefer to write paranormal and contemporary romance. I’ve been a big fan of romance in general since finding my mother’s stash of Harlequin novels when I was about twelve. The paranormal element is especially fun to write. I just let my imagination have free rein and write what I know I’d want to read.
Someday I might try my hand at historical romance. I love to read them, but the amount of research is intimidating.
Andromeda’s Fall
Shadowcat Nation
Book 1Genre: paranormal romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Date of Publication: 12/10/14
ISBN: 978-1-62830-661-3ASIN: B00PM6T2YW
Number of pages: 258Word Count: 61,300
Cover Artist: Debbie Taylor
Book Description
Andromeda Reynolds is being hunted. After witnessing her mother’s violent death at the hands of a pack of wolf shifters, Andie has devoted her life to protecting her community of cougar shifters from a similar fate. But now, a greater threat lies within her own dare, and she must run. If she stays, Kyle Carstairs will force their mating, seeking the added political power their union would provide.
Andie would rather chew off her own foot than end up with Kyle. Though, knowing him, she won’t live long either way. Andie’s only hope of survival is to mate Jaxon Keller, the Alpha of the Keller Dare with which she is seeking asylum. But before she can get to him, Andie must first go through A.J., one of the Alpha’s Protectors.
What Andie doesn’t realize is that A.J. has secrets of his own. All Andie knows is that the incredibly frustrating shifter insists on challenging her story, her skills, her trust… and her heart.
Book Trailer


Series Pinterest Board
Available at  The Wild Rose Press  
Amazon   BN   Apple   Kobo
Excerpt 
He glanced down at her. “You really are a tiny thing, aren’t you?”
Andie scowled. “Don’t let my size fool you. I can pack a wallop when I want to. Even with a broken arm.”
A.J. laughed. “I’m sure you can.”
Andie stared straight ahead, her mouth thinning. She hated being patronized. Men were so dense sometimes. They never took her seriously until she showed them exactly why they should.
Keeping her left arm protected, Andie suddenly dropped. One leg shot out and she spun low to the ground, sweeping A.J.’s feet out from under him. As he landed on his back, she was on top of him, her knee on his windpipe—not crushing, just sending a message.
Before she could gloat too much, though, she was flying through the air. Andie tucked into a back flip, landed on her feet, and then spun and launched herself backwards in a one-handed back handspring. A.J. had just gotten on his feet when her legs wrapped around his neck. She used her momentum to drop him back to the floor.
Andie rolled and ended up in a crouch close by. A.J. held up his hands in surrender. “All right, wildcat. You’ve proved yourself.”
Andie glared at him. “Don’t doubt me. And don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you just lost either,” she said in a severe voice, made harsher, perhaps, by the fact that she’d just realized exactly how incredible his blue eyes were. They were a vibrant color made even more interesting by the black ring that rimmed the irises. And she was more than irritated with herself for having noticed that at all.
He levered himself up off the floor. “Fair enough.”
The only thing that kept her from proving her point more—because she could tell he’d held back—was the small amount of respect she could see in his eyes. With a brusque nod, she followed him down the hall. 
About the Author

Award-winning paranormal and contemporary romance author, Abigail Owen was born in Greeley, Colorado, and raised in Austin, Texas. She now resides in Northern California with her husband and two adorable children who are the center of her universe.
Abigail grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. A fourth generation graduate of Texas A&M University, she attempted to find a practical career related to her favorite pastime by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing). However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it.
Website/Blog 
Facebook 
Twitter 
Pinterest


a Rafflecopter giveaway  

Passion. Intrigue. Adventure. Viking Heart- The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors.

Just a few more weeks until summer! I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely ready for some fun in the sun. Speaking of fun, I’ve been having tons of it lately with Kol and Amber. Though it may have been chilly in 9th century Scandinavia, things managed to remain sizzling hot. But what did you expect from these two?
As you might have imagined, it was challenging bringing these lusty, commitment phobic characters together. One thing's for sure though, they're my absolute favorite couple out of all my books. Mainly because they kept me chuckling, having fun and I just loved how open they were about their sexuality. They were by far the least reserved couple I’ve written about. Even so, I peeled away the layers that made them who they were and realized that their mental demons were best fought together.
So are you ready to enjoy yourself in 9thcentury Scandinavia one more time? If so, I’m thrilled to give you Viking Heart…
Blurb
Amber is heartbroken. Supposedly because of a pact made between three ninth century Viking brothers and Mt. Galdhøpiggen’s seers, her sisters have vanished into the distant past. Struggling with grief, she leans on her part-time fling Sean until even he is torn away. Or so it seems.
Of dragon blood and brother to the king, Kol Sigdir ‘the lucky’ has been determined to avoid his fate since the moment he promised himself, sight unseen, to a woman from the future. He adores all women and it’s no easy thing knowing he has to eventually pledge his heart to just one…until he meets Amber. A spirited artist and musician, she captivates him. When she offers him a soul-deep glimpse at what was missing from his life, he soon wonders how he will ever be able to let her go.
As Kol and Amber grow closer, they face multiple threats. Eager for revenge, King Alrek declares war. To make matters worse, he has an ally nobody could have anticipated. One determined to see everything come to an end.
Hearts struggle, rip apart, and then are rebuilt when the laws of time are tossed aside. A thousand years means nothing when two star-crossed souls are meant to connect. Even so, will the strength of love be enough to withstand a powerful enemy and bridge a gap across time already closed?

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes
Excerpt
After receiving another horn of ale, Kol leaned back and eyed Amber with amusement as she stopped in front of the men playing bodhran drums. Unlike her sisters, she seemed to be embracing their society right away or so said the slow sway of her hips. Fortunately, the fires kept it warm enough that she’d removed her cloak, giving him and every other man a pleasurable view of her backside.
And just like him, there was nothing but lust in their eyes.
He didn’t recognize the low growl in his chest and had no idea he was heading in her direction until he was halfway there. Her sisters might be a solid wall of protection around Amber, but far too many men were contemplating a way past them. Even with the potential wrath of the king and Raknar coming down on them, several clearly thought the loot well worth the punishment.
She must have said something about the instrument because Kol had nearly reached Amber when one of the men stopped playing his drum and handed it to her. Red dragon haze skirted the corners of his vision when the musician wrapped his arms around her from behind. Though he was only showing her how to use the drum, Kol also knew he was just as aroused as the men now forming a circle around her.
A dagger at the ready, he stopped beside her sisters and glared at any man willing to meet his eyes…which were few. No, they weren’t just lusting but downright enchanted by Amber. Even his eyes were snagged from protecting her when warm laughter bubbled up from her chest. She tossed her hair over a shoulder and winked at the man behind her. Arms crossed over his chest, Kol was impressed with how smoothly she kept the musician from pressing too close while simultaneously making him feel like the world revolved around him.
He had never seen anything quite like it.
From a woman that is.
Hel, Amber maneuvered a man nearly as well as Kol maneuvered a woman.
And that’s precisely what they did. Made the opposite sex feel special until they tired and moved on to the next. But Kol would bet that like him, she rarely left a man lacking. If anything, she left them happier than they were prior.
“I knew it wouldn’t take her long to make herself at home,” Megan murmured and bumped shoulders with him. “Put away the dagger, Champ. She’ll be all right.”
“I’m sure she will.” But he didn’t put away the dagger. Better that his fellowmen see his intentions…or at least that she was under his protection. Yet even as he tried to keep his attention on the bastards around her, he soon became as enamored as the rest when she held the crossbar beneath with expertise and started playing the drum. She had a way of moving her hand in such a way that the sound made the listener feel the passion within her.
Incredible passion.
Blatant sensuality.
The woman possessed a natural eroticism that simmered beneath the surface of every move she made. Kol watched the speed and roll of her hand, imagining that same hand playing his body with as much talent and hunger. Because there was a definite hunger in the sound she created. One that originated in the depths of her soul. A soul that felt things far more deeply than most.
Though Kol narrowed his eyes at the man behind her, he didn’t need to. Amber was handling him perfectly as she pulled away and nodded her thanks. Then her eyes met the women playing the pipes and she offered a dazzling smile as they caught her beat.
Captivated, he couldn’t decide which part of her he wanted to eye more. Her animated face, the way her hand deftly worked the instrument or the sway of her lovely hips as she moved in synchronization to the beat she created.

Ready to go a-Viking?Join me on tourThe loot?A $50 gift card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble!
June 4thMythical Books
June 4thSapphyria's Book Reviews
June 5th3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too!
June 5thRomance That's 'Out Of This World'
June 5thGeeks In High School
June 8thBooks N Pearls 
June 8thMommabears Book Blog
June 8thDark Side of Romance
June 9thBJ’s Head
June 9thDeal Sharing Aunt
June 10thIndy Book Fairy
June 10thThe Enchanted Word 
June 10thEskimo Princess Book Reviews   
June 11thParanormal Romance and Authors That Rock
June 11thMore Romance Please
June 12thDena Garson - Real... Hot... Romance
June 12thI Smell Sheep 
June 15thShare My Destiny
June 15thCBY Book Club
June 16thLisa’s World of Books
  

Mythean Arcana, a Paranormal Romance Boxed Set by Linsey Hall.

Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over Linsey Hall, author of Mythean Arcana, a Paranormal Romance Boxed Set, Books 1-4.
Publisher: Bonnie Doon Press
Date of Publication:  May 20
ISBN: 978-1-942085-34-8ASIN: B00WDCMARY
Number of pages: 898Word Count: 290,000  3 full length novels, 1 novella
Cover Artist: Damonza

Book Description
In celebration of the release of Fate Undone, Book 5 of the Mythean Arcana series, the first four volumes are available for a limited time for only $0.99!
"Linsey Hall's brilliantly imaginative Mythean Arcana is THE must-read series of the year for fans of paranormal romance." - Maggie Shayne, NY Times Bestselling Author of TWILIGHT GUARDIANS
GIVEAWAY! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after the post for a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card. 
Let’s hear from Linsey Hall…
Bad Ass Cats by Linsey Hall
I grew up in a household where we rescued stray and feral cats. It was our family bonding activity (I’ll never say we aren’t a little weird). We’d get them fixed and find them homes. Except for the mean ones. Those, we kept as our own. I say that those cats are mean, but in reality, they’re just very wary of people. In cats, however, this wariness usually displays as hissing and biting, which my mom calls love bites.
The cats rule my mom’s house, both indoors and out, and they love her like they love deli ham. She is a true cat whisperer. They’re suspicious of the rest of us, however. But we love them anyway. I’ve always really liked these cats (and still do – my mom’s house is now a retirement home for a bunch of really mean cats). They have personality and opinions they aren’t afraid to share - no matter who fills the kibble bowl - and I respect that.
When I went to college, I moved into a menagerie with my best friend, Emily. We had two dogs, two rats, a snake, and one truly bad ass cat. All of this was contained in about 800 square feet of 1920’s house in a very questionable neighborhood. You’d think I’d have asked why there were bars on the windows before signing the lease, but I’ve never been very practical when faced with original wood flooring and walking distance to bars. But I digress. The dogs, rats, and snake were Emily’s. The cat, Chairman Meow, was mine.
The Chairman came to me from a rescue shelter at the wise age of 13. For four years, he traveled the country with me, always riding shotgun in my little sedan. He’d put his paws up on the dash and sniff the air that blew out of the air conditioning vent. He did that all the way through Mississippi once (I have a theory that he was born there). We’d take walks together outside – me, drinking a beer and chatting with my grandmother on the phone, the Chairman sniffing grass and car tires.  When I was asleep and he wanted to be fed, he’d slam the bathroom cabinet door, then look at me to see if I’d woken up from the noise. No? Slam again, look at me, rinse and repeat until I woke up and popped the top on his can of wet food.
No question, I was raised to love badass cats. I even love internet cats. From the late, great Colonel Meow to humanitarian Little Bub and my family’s favorite, Business Cat. My cats are my colleagues while I write and it was only natural that they show up in my books. Chairman Meow appears briefly in the first book of my series, Braving Fate, but he really has his day in the second book, Soulceress. One of my current cats, Miss Kitty, has a cameo in book three, Rogue Soul, while Fluffy Black, a sweet foster kitty that we lost to illness, has her moment in book 4, Stolen Fate.
Who were some of your bad ass animals? Do you have any favorite internet cats like Lil Bub or Business Cat? 
Braving Fate
Bookish academic Diana Laughton has been having terrible dreams. Dreams of battle, dreams of blood... dreams so vivid she's living them day and night. When demons invade her quiet life and she flees to Scotland, she wonders if she's going mad. Or if perhaps she's remembering a past life she had no idea existed...
Mythean Guardian Cadan Trinovante loved and betrayed Britain's warrior queen Boudica two millennia ago. Now he's tasked with protecting mortals whose lives affect the fate of humanity. His latest assignment is Boudica herself, reincarnated as a woman with no idea of her past or her fated future.
Thrown together in a shadowy world that exists alongside our own, Diana and Cadan must fight not only the demonic forces that want Diana dead, but a past and a passion that have lasted centuries. Their desire could be deadly. But as evil from the underworld unites against them, their only hope could be each other.
Soulceress
Three hundred years ago, Warren sold his soul in exchange for the safety of his people. He lives immortal and inhuman, a life in the shadows, hiding his secrets. Until now, when he finally has the chance to reclaim his soul after three centuries of suffering…
Esha is a soulceress, an immortal who drains the magical powers of others. Shunned by everyone she meets, she’s a rogue mercenary who hunts evil for a living. The only man she cannot harm is Warren, whose secrets intrigue her and whose body sparks her desire…
Esha is the only person who can help Warren reclaim his soul. But what begins as a simple quest soon becomes a deadly battle, one in which choices will be made and secrets revealed that could tear them apart. As Esha and Warren uncover their passion, they must defeat the evil forces unleashed against them before time runs out…
Rogue Soul
Andrasta, Celtic goddess of victory, has fled the cold, sterile wasteland of Otherworld for the steamy South American jungle. It's only a matter of time before the vengeful gods catch and punish her - unless she can convince the man she betrayed two thousand years ago to help…
Born in Otherworld to the life of a god, Camulos went rogue centuries ago. He's living on the banks of the Amazon, boxing in bare-knuckled fights. The gods believe he's dead--until Ana finds him. Ana, the woman who gave him nothing but trouble, and the woman he could never forget…
Thrown together, Ana and Cam must evade the wrath of the gods and a return to the living death of Otherworld. But as they flee through the jungle - and as their passion ignites - they find themselves at the heart of an ancient secret. One that could kill them both and extinguish their souls forever...
Stolen Fate
Fiona is an Acquirer, an immortal who uses magic to hunt for ancient artifacts. Ever since she failed to live up to her fate and find the Book of Worlds,, she’s been slowly losing her mind as her subconscious keeps trying to accomplish her fated task. When she’s presented with one last chance to find the Book and save her sanity, she’ll stop at nothing to accomplish her goal.
For more than one hundred years, Ian has been locked in a nightmarish prison. An accomplished thief, he was thrown into hell for failing to maintain the secrecy of his magical race. When Fiona presents him with an opportunity for escape, he’ll do anything it takes to ensure that it’s permanent, even if it means betraying the woman he’s grown to care for.
As Fiona and Ian get closer to finding the book, they learn that there’s more at stake than they ever imagined – like the fate of the world.

Available at    Amazon     Kobo     Google Play    iBooks    BN

Chapter One of Rogue Soul, book 3 in the Mythean Arcana series
The Caipora’s DenEdge of the Amazon River, BrazilPresent Day
Andrasta, Celtic goddess of victory, swallowed hard, her gaze transfixed by the man in the makeshift boxing ring. Was he that handsome when I tried to kill him? Or that brutal?
She honestly couldn’t remember. It had been more than two thousand years since she’d seen him last, and she barely recognized him. Dim spotlights gleamed off sweat-slicked muscles and highlighted the feral brutality with which he pounded his opponent. No gloves protected his big hands, just white fabric wrapped around knuckles. They were spotted with blood.
She swallowed hard again, unable to look away.
She’d known she would find him here when she’d strolled up to the Caipora’s Den, a little dive bar perched on the edge of the Amazon River. But she hadn’t expected the outdoor boxing ring surrounded by a horde of cheering Mytheans or that her prey would be inside it, pounding his opponent into a sack of broken bones.
She’d never before been to the bar, which catered only to the supernatural beings who lived secretly alongside mortals. The building itself was ramshackle, and she had a feeling that it was just as run-down on the inside. The outdoor lot in which she stood was pressed between the building and the river. It housed the boxing ring and nearly a hundred Mytheans, most of whom looked human even though they weren’t. They screamed and cheered as punches landed with fierce smacks.
“All right, that’s enough,” hollered the ref, a big ugly brute who stepped forward to end the fight. The man she’d come for stood over his collapsed opponent, his heavily muscled chest heaving. He was declared the winner—no surprise, considering his opponent didn’t look like he’d be getting off the floor anytime soon.
She sank back into the crowd when he turned to exit the ring. Though she wanted to watch him, to devour every hard inch with her eyes, she didn’t want him to see her before she could approach him on her terms.
Their past was a pit of snakes, so confusing that even she couldn’t figure head from tail though she’d lived through it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was pissed as hell, considering the arrows she’d sent through his heart the last time she’d seen him. Not that he hadn’t wronged her. He had. He’d started the nightmare that had ended in her stealing his godhood for herself. Worse, they’d cared for each other. Until it had all gone to shit, at least.
And now she needed his help.
She turned and pushed her way through the crowd, toward the small bar pressed against the outside of the building. She needed to buy herself some time to recover from the sight of him but didn’t want to do it inside the bar where she might lose track of him. Seeing him again made her shaky, even though it had been so many years. She just needed a minute to catch her breath, that was all.
She squeezed between two Mytheans of indeterminate species and reached the bar—which was more of a table with some liquor bottles and a cooler, but it would do.
“A beer,” she said to the bartender, a beautiful brunette who had the slightly feral face of some kind of shifter. Ana had never been any good at identifying Mytheans since she rarely got away from her own kind.
The bartender handed over a sweating glass bottle and hissed, “On the house.”
Anaconda Incantada. The sound of her voice gave away what her features did not. She was a snake shifter.
And it had better be on the house. There had to be some perks to being a god, since everything else had been a disappointment. Although Ana never tired of Mytheans fearing or bowing to her. Some watched her warily even now, and she appreciated it all the more for not having had it when she’d been mortal.
“How often does this happen?” Ana asked the bartender, hiking a thumb at the ring.
The shifter shrugged. “Every night.”
“Know anything about the fighters?”
“Not the loser. But the winner, he’s never lost. Fights pretty often. Seems to like it. Keeps to himself otherwise.”
Ana nodded and turned to look for her prey. The beer slid refreshingly down her throat, and she sighed in pleasure at the smooth taste of the infrequently allowed delicacy. Focusing on the taste helped calm her nerves just a bit. She was raising the bottle to her lips a second time when she spotted him standing off to the side of the crowd near the jungle that crept up to the dirt lot.
It had been two thousand years since she’d seen him last, when she’d thought she’d killed him and taken his place as a Celtic god. Those years had been kind to him, considering that he was still alive. Almost as kind as the way-too-hot woman draped around him, sucking on his neck while he unwrapped the bloody cloth from his hands.
Ana stifled the strange little twinge in her chest. She’d cared for him once, and he for her, but that was so long ago the memories had gone to dust. Or so she told herself. She took one last swig of the beer to chase them away.
Now or never. If she wanted a permanent escape from Otherworld, the land of the Celtic gods and what felt like her eternal prison, there’d be no more dawdling, no matter how nervous she was about his reception or willingness to help her.
She needed him. Admitting to it scraped something raw inside her. But after two thousand years, she wanted out more than she wanted her pride.
Ana sucked in a deep breath and wound her way through the crowd. When a lobisomem got handsy as she passed, an elbow to the gut halted his straying paws, and a glare stopped another. Fancy Brazilian name or not, they were dogs like the rest of their werewolf brothers. Within moments, she’d reached the edge of the crowd and stood before the now-kissing pair.
She squashed her nerves as she gazed at the strong profile of the man she’d never been able to forget—whose mouth was glued to the woman’s. He was a bruiser, even from the side, a contrast of hard features and short ginger hair. He looked rougher than she remembered. Bigger, too.
“Camulos,” Ana said. She glanced dismissively at the sultry woman now trying to swallow his tongue.
“Cam,” he said absentmindedly as he drew his face away from the woman’s to look at Ana. His brows shot up, his gray eyes widening the barest fraction. A scar sliced through one of the brows.
“Recognize me?” she asked, absorbing the fact that he no longer went by Camulos.
“Andrasta,” he rasped, shock plain on his face.
Did she hear his breath catch?
Hers certainly did. He looked every inch the god he’d once been—strong and powerful, with broad shoulders and big arms that looked like they’d been cut from steel. A man comfortable with the mantle of worship, even if he no longer carried it.
Ana shot a pointed glance at the other woman.
“Luciana,” he said, drawing the woman’s mouth away from where it had suctioned onto his neck.
Ana’s eyes zeroed in on the huge hand that cupped the back of Luciana’s neck, then looked back to realize that he’d kept his gaze trained on her own face.
“You need to go,” Camulos said to Luciana.
Luciana pouted at him, then turned to look at Ana.
“A goddess?” Her brows shot high. She no doubt noticed the small glow emitting from Ana’s skin and marked her as one from Otherworld. Her lips twisted in a sneer. “I thought you Celtic gods never left your cold realm.”
She’d be right, Ana thought bitterly. Cold and emotionless, that was Otherworld, and she was trapped there except for a few times a year when she could sneak out without the other gods noticing. But that’s what she wanted to change.
“Beat it, sister,” she said, trying out some earth slang she’d seen on a TV show. Sneaking a laptop into Otherworld and firing up movies with her magic was one of the few ways she stayed sane.
The woman pouted, gave one last longing glance at Camulos, and then moved off into the crowd.
Camulos gave her a hard, searching look, his shock now masked. He didn’t make a move to kill her—which was good. Not that she’d let him. But still, it was promising. He might have cared for her once, but after what had happened at the end, she wouldn’t be surprised if that had been pushed out by anger.
“Come on. Let’s get a seat inside.” He jerked his chin toward the ramshackle bar.
Ana nodded and turned to lead the way. This time, with the huge male of indeterminate species following closely behind her, the crowd parted in waves to let her pass. Camulos was so close on her heels she swore she could feel the heat of him. It made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She tried to ignore it.
The smell of sweat and stale beer assaulted her nose when she walked into the bar. It was even more crowded than the outside, with dozens of volatile Mytheans partying and fighting in the dark, smoky space lit only by bare, dangling light bulbs.
She blinked. Wow. This was so different from Otherworld. Gross, definitely, from the smell to the cleanliness of the occupants.
But it was great. It was nothing like Otherworld, and she loved it. There was one small unoccupied table in the corner, but it was far enough from the main crowd to suit her.
They hadn’t so much as settled at the table when a beer appeared in front of Camulos, carried by a smiling waitress whose eyes didn’t stray from him. He ignored it and spared her only a curt nod.
“How the hell did you find me?” he asked when the waitress slunk away.
His rough voice sent a shiver down her spine. That first tingle of attraction hadn’t been a fluke, after all. Damn it. This was what had gotten her in trouble so many years ago. Insane attraction that had blinded her to the danger she’d stepped into.
She dragged her mind back to the present. “More importantly, how the hell are you still alive? I thought I killed you.”
His big hand clenched on the table. Scars sliced across his knuckles.
She tried not to squirm in her seat as his eyes roamed from her face down to the hint of cleavage she knew peeped above the top of her leather breastplate. She always wore it, but then she spent most of her time in temperate Otherworld or Scotland. It was damn hot in the jungle.
Finally, his gaze dragged back to hers. The sight hit her straight in the solar plexus. Damn, he looked good, no matter how wary or how harsh his gaze. His short reddish-blond hair glinted in the dim light that struggled to illuminate the seedy bar with its sticky seats. He still looked like a damn god, no matter what he’d turned into.
“You didn’t kill me,” he said, one corner of his mouth hiked up.
“Then what the hell are you? How are you immortal?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
So it was going to be this way? A game of chance where neither showed their cards? But it suited her too, since she had no idea how she felt about him. She glared at him as a Jurassic-sized fly buzzed around her head, as annoying as the questions hanging in the air between them. She still didn’t fully understand everything that had happened those many years ago when she’d taken his place as a god by sending an arrow through his heart. Twice. She flinched at the mental image that came with the thought—him dying in the snow, his blood soaking through the knees of her dress.
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked.
“Nope.” If she was going to be afraid of anyone, it would be him—with his huge body, scowling face, and potentially deadly grudge against her. But she wasn’t. She could take care of herself, damn it. Being afraid was a thing of the past.
“Cocky.”
“Yep.” She wasn’t the same girl he’d once cared for, however briefly. After they’d gotten caught in the crosshairs of the gods and her whole life had gone to hell, she’d changed.
“Anyway, it worked out for the best.” He raised his smudged glass in toast to her.
“Really?” Her brows shot up. He truly thought their past—trading places so that she became a god and he went to earth—had worked out for the best?
He nodded, but she had a hard time believing him.
“Why? You should have loved Otherworld. You’re a god,” she said.
“Not anymore.”
“Yeah, but you get what I mean,” she said. “Otherworld, the coldness there, shouldn’t have bothered you since you were born a god. The power, the perfection. It was all yours. Without all the downsides.”
Like the soul-sucking loneliness of a place with no emotion. No one could care about anyone else. 
She was a fluke, a god with the ability to feel because she’d once been mortal. But there was nothing to feel there. No joy, no love, no fun. No way to distract herself from the misery of being trapped. All the other gods, they were perfect for it. Automatons in their impeccable world. But not her.
“So why would it be better for you on earth?” she asked when he didn’t respond. He had less power here and had to hide from the other gods. And earth was messy and miserable compared to Otherworld. But it was that ability to be miserable, and alternately joyful, which made her want to return. “There’s nothing for you here.”
His gray eyes darkened, his expression effectively closing the subject. “That’s my business, not yours. Why the hell are you here?”
 “I want out.”
“Are you kidding? Do you know what will happen to you when the other gods figure out you’ve tried to run?”
What was it about his voice that made her want to squirm in her seat? The mixed accent from his long life sounded exotic somehow and a hint of roughness dragged across her skin.
She shivered. “I’ve snuck out before.”
“For a few hours maybe, and not with the intent to flee.” He nodded smugly and she knew he must see acknowledgment in her eyes. “When they figure out that you’re gone and don’t intend to come back, you’ll end up chained to the most desolate tor in Blackmoor for a thousand years while ravens circle for dinner.”
Ana swallowed hard. The knowledge of the great rock formations where lawbreakers were punished was something she’d tried not to focus on when she’d decided to run. Blackmoor was the most desolate place in Otherworld, all scrubby ground punched through with granite tors and howling wind and rain. She had about a day before the other gods figured out she was gone. At that point, she’d be considered a deserter and they’d hunt her down.
“I’m aware of the risks.” She tried to make her voice hard. “I want out.”
“What the hell do you expect me to do about it?”
“You cared for me once.” She didn’t want to play that card—not after how it had ended between them—but she was desperate.
Truth flashed in his eyes, then his jaw hardened. “It was a long time ago.”
It had been. But seeing him was dredging up emotions she’d forgotten she’d ever had. She tried to force them to the back of her mind and focus on her goal. “I want to know how you became mortal.”“Not mortal.”
“Damn it, you know what I mean. I just don’t want to be a god anymore. You stole my life when your obsession with me attracted the attention of the other gods. I want my life back.”
“I don’t owe you a thing.” He raised his glass and his strong throat worked as he swallowed, drawing her eyes to it. She couldn’t help but notice the way his worn shirt stretched over his broad chest. She scowled at her own interest. Long ago, that same interest had gotten her into trouble.
“Fine. I’ll just have to convince you,” she said.
He didn’t respond, just smiled and folded his muscled arms over his chest. She sighed, then tensed when he swung his feet up onto the chair next to her.
Her breath caught in her throat. She could almost feel the heat of his thighs close to hers. Her leg tingled, her skin prickling. Something low in her stomach tightened, and it reminded her that this was one of the reasons she wanted to be back on earth.
Fates, her nerves were on edge, and he wasn’t helping matters. She’d spent nearly every day of the last two millennia in Otherworld—the dullest, loneliest place in all of creation. As much as she loved the hustle and bustle of the Mytheans and mortals on earth, there was way too much of it in this bar. Her senses were on overdrive, and the air fairly buzzed with emotion from the dozens of volatile 
Mytheans carousing around her.
She swallowed hard and met his eyes. His smile reappeared, as if he knew what was going on inside her head. Inside her body.
“I need some air.” She jumped to her feet. “Come on.”
As soon as he stood, she spun and headed for the front door of the bar, hoping it would be quieter than the fighting ring out back. She had to cool down or things were going to get out of control. 
About the Author

Linsey Hall is the author of the Mythean Arcana, a sexy paranormal romance series. Before becoming a romance novelist, Linsey was an underwater archaeologist who studied shipwrecks in all kinds of water, from the tropics to muddy rivers (and she has a distinct preference for one over the other). Her books draw upon her love of history, travel, and the paranormal elements that she can't help but include.
Several of her books may or may not feature her cats.
www.linseyhall.com
https://twitter.com/HiLinseyHall
https://www.facebook.com/LinseyHallAuthor
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8588556.Linsey_Hall
http://www.pinterest.com/HiLinseyHall/
   
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Paranormal Romance. Duke, Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club by Candace Blevins.

Today I’m thrilled to welcome over Candace Blevins, author of Duke, Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 1.
Genre: Motorcycle Club, Paranormal Romance
Publisher:  Excessica
Date of Publication:  April 24, 2015
Word Count:  105,000 words
Cover Artist:  Syneca Featherstone
Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win 2 ebook copies of The Dragon King, winner’s choice of epub, mobi, or pdf.
Book Description
Book one of the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club...
Duke’s friend’s little sister had been off limits when they were growing up, but Gen is all woman now, with the sexiest curves ever. However, bringing her into his life now, as the new Rolling Thunder chapter establishes itself as a powerhouse in Chattanooga, would put her in danger.
Gen has no idea she already knows one of the bikers until she arrives to show them some downtown properties they’re looking to buy.
They live in different worlds, and despite being a successful businesswoman, Gen has led a sheltered life. She wears couture, while Duke wears Levi jeans and his MC colors on a black leather vest. Not to mention, he's a werewolf and she's a blissfully unaware human. Can two people, so different, possibly work?
Warning: Graphic sex, and a controlling, drop-dead gorgeous werewolf who happens to be president of a motorcycle club.
This book is also part of the Kirsten O’Shea Universe, but reading the other series in Kirsten’s Universe is not  necessary in order to enjoy the Motorcycle Club books.

Other Books by Candace
Only Human series (Urban Fantasy)
* Only Human (Feb 20, 2015)* Book two - title tba (late 2015)

Chattanooga Supernaturals (Paranormal Romance)
* The Dragon King (winter 2015)* Riding the Storm (spring 2015)* Acceptable Risk (June 2015)

Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club
* Duke (spring 2015)

Safeword Series
* Safeword: Rainbow* Safeword: Davenport * Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon* Safeword: Quinacridone* Safeword: Matte* Safeword: Matte - In Training* No Safeword: Matte - The Honeymoon* No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After* Safeword: Arabesque 

About the Author
Candace Blevins lives with her husband of 17 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.
Candace writes BDSM  Romance, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and a smokin’ hot Motorcycle Club series.
Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. Books are standalone and can be read in any order, with the exception of the two Davenport books, and the four Matte books.
Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.
Candace's paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals, is a sister series to the Only Human series, and gives some secondary characters their happily ever after.
You can visit Candace on the web at CandiceBlevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at Facebook and Goodreads.
You can also join www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinkstersto get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.
http://www.facebook.com/candacesblevins
https://twitter.com/CandaceBlevins
https://pinterest.com/candacesblevins/
http://www.candaceblevins.com/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4489132.Candace_Blevins
http://www.amazon.com/Candace-Blevins/e/B004GOQJ5Q/
Newsletter signup -- http://eepurl.com/W_Cij
Feel free to join Candace’s Kinksters -- https://www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters/

   a Rafflecopter giveaway

Urban Fantasy. The Reaper Series by Lisa Medley.

 Today it’s my pleasure to feature The Reaper Series. So sit back, relax and check out some great Urban Fantasy's.
Reap and RepentThe Reaper Series Book 1Lisa Medley
Genre: Urban Fantasy Publisher: Big Cedar Date of Publication: March 3, 2015 ISBN: 978-0-9908856-2-7ASIN: B00TJFIOFK Number of pages: 328Word Count: 84k 
Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs

Book Description
They see death. Can they share a life?
Ruth Scott can read the energy of every person she meets. Then she meets Deacon Walker. She can see his ice-blue eyes, his black hair, and his gorgeous face. But this beautiful stranger has no aura.
Deacon is just as unsettled by Ruth—and, having spent more than two hundred years ushering souls to Purgatory, Deacon is seldom shocked by anything. As he helps Ruth to understand her true nature, she awakens desires that he decided long ago a Reaper can’t afford.
A demon invasion forces Deacon to confront the darkness in his own past even as he fights to save the human souls he’s charged to protect. When he’s taken captive, his first concern is for Ruth. But Ruth just might be able to save herself—and the Reaper she can’t live without—if she can learn to wield her newfound powers.
Amazon and Kindle Unlimited
                   Reap and RedeemThe Reaper Series Book 2Lisa Medley
Genre: Urban Fantasy Publisher: Big Cedar Date of Publication: March 10, 2015 ISBN: 978-0-9908856-4-1ASIN: B00UKBZO7S Number of pages: 326Word Count: 80k 
Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs
Book Description
He’s a reaper who has given up on saving souls. Will a dying woman be his salvation?
After a century of enslavement to pure evil, Kylen Larson is finally free. But he’s long past caring. The only woman he ever loved is dead, and he’s tormented by memories of the horrors his demon parasite forced him to commit. Now, he lives for nothing more than hunting down the infernal creatures invading Meridian, Arkansas, and destroying them.
Olivia Evans is in the final stages of cancer when Kylen accidentally saves her from demonic possession. When he rescues this innocent soul, Kylen rediscovers his mission—and his heart. All he wants is to help Olivia stay alive. He’ll just have to fight off an invasion from Hell first…
Amazon and Kindle Unlimited
           Reap and RevealThe Reaper Series Book 3Lisa Medley
Genre: Urban Fantasy Publisher: Big Cedar Date of Publication: April 5, 2015 ISBN: 978-0-9908856-6-5ASIN: B00VB4VFJY Number of pages: 302Word Count: 78k 
Cover Sweet and Spicy Designs
Book Description
By day he saves lives in the city he loves. Can he save souls too?
Nate is an EMT, a witch and a newly inducted member of the Reaper Authority Force. What he's not is a reaper. With unexplained abilities, his true nature lies somewhere in between the angels, demons and reapers he finds himself involved with. When he's paired with the reaper Maeve, he struggles to find his place in the rising war to save the souls of Meridian and the world.
Maeve has tried to hide her reaper handicap--her toxic reaper energy--from her colleagues. But when she's possessed by a fallen angel and forced to poach souls for Hell, her greatest weakness might be the only thing that saves her.
Nate uses his growing powers and his innate magic to find Maeve. He'll do whatever it takes to save her, revealing more than he ever imagined in the process.
Amazon and Kindle Unlimited
About the Author


Lisa has always enjoyed reading about monsters in love and now she writes about them, because monsters need love too.
She adores beasties of all sorts, fictional as well as real, and has a farm full of them in her Southwest Missouri home, including: one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees, and a guinea pig.
She may or may not keep a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out bag in her trunk at all times, including a machete. Just. In. Case.
http://lisa-medley.com
https://www.facebook.com/lisamedleyauthor
https://twitter.com/lisamedley
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7824406.Lisa_Medley
https://plus.google.com/u/1/+LisaMedley/posts

Historical Romance. Scent of the Soul by Julie Doherty.

Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over Julie Doherty, author of Scent of the Soul, a Historical Romance.
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Date of Publication:  February 11, 2015
ISBN:  978-1-61935-705-1ASIN: B00SZ0SKUE
Number of pages: 288Word Count:  91,000
Cover Artist: Leah Suttle
Book Description
In twelfth century Scotland, it took a half-Gael with a Viking name to restore the clans to their rightful lands. Once an exile, Somerled the Mighty now dominates the west. He’s making alliances, expanding his territory, and proposing marriage to the Manx princess.
It’s a bad time to fall for Breagha, a torc-wearing slave with a supernatural sense of smell.
Somerled resists the intense attraction to a woman who offers no political gain, and he won’t have a mistress making demands on him while he’s negotiating a marriage his people need. Besides, Breagha belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance Somerled can’t afford to lose.
It’s when Breagha vanishes that Somerled realizes just how much he needs her. He abandons his marriage plans to search for her, unprepared for the evil lurking in the shadowy recesses of Ireland—a lustful demon who will stop at nothing to keep Breagha for himself.
Book Trailer  


Available at   Amazon    Amazon UK    Amazon Canada
Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win one of the following: 10 bars of soap open to US Shipping or one of five Kindle Gift Copies of  Scent of the Soul.
Let’s Interview!
What inspired you to write this book?
It was a combination of things. The first occurred at a gas station while I was waiting in line to pay. A man stepped into line behind me, and I felt this unbelievable energy emanating from him. It was really bizarre, because he was not the sort of guy I’d ever notice. In fact, if I met him in an alley, I’d probably run the other way, but as he stood behind me, I could feel the heat of him against my back. It’s been about twenty years since that happened, and I’ve never forgotten the power of it. I’ve often wondered why I found him so magnetic. There was nothing sexual about it—just a magnetic pull, like I already knew him somehow. Were we soul mates in a past life? Were our lives somehow meant to connect? I’ll never find out, because I paid for my gas and ran out of there like my pants were on fire. It’s crazy, I know, but it led to the question: what would happen if someone bumped into a soul mate from a past life? Would we recognize him/her? How?
It wasn’t until later that I decided to write a novel featuring reuniting soul mates. I was researching my ancestry at the time, and I came across Somerled of Argyll. Although much of his story has been lost to time, we know he was a hero long before Robert the Bruce and William Wallace. In fact, he’s the progenitor of many of the Highland clans so popular in fiction today. Without him, those clans may have disappeared altogether, since it was Somerled who wrenched Scottish lands from the hands of the Vikings. He’s also credited with inventing the moveable stern rudder, which changed the way men sailed. If that’s not enough to earn a spot in a novel, what is?
I combined the “soul mate recognition” spark with Somerled, threw in a little supernatural scenting ability, and SCENT OF THE SOUL was born. Readers will recognize the “gas station event” in the scene where Somerled appears behind Breagha in the slave corner.
How did you come up with the title?
My female character recognizes Somerled by scent, so SCENT OF THE SOUL made perfect sense.
If you could spend an hour in real life with one of your characters, who would it be and why?
Somerled, but I’d want more than an hour. As for why, well, heh heh.
Tell us a little bit about the conflict in your story.
Somerled has risen from obscurity in western Scotland. He plans to cement his position as a man of considerable wealth and influence by marrying the Manx princess, but when he meets Breagha, a slave with a supernatural sense of smell, she turns his world upside-down. He resists the intense attraction, knowing Breagha offers no political gain, and he can’t have a mistress making demands on him while he’s negotiating a marriage his people need. Besides, Breagha belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance Somerled can’t afford to lose.

Somerled thinks he has time to decide between power and love. What he doesn’t know is someone else wants Breagha, too—someone who will stop at nothing to keep her for himself.
Tell us about your book cover and how it relates to your story.
Somerled was a twelfth century warrior king with a vast fleet. It seemed only fitting to feature a longship, since he owned many of them. The cover image hints of a voyage to some mysterious place, which is pretty much what happens in the novel. We journey with Somerled, not to a place, but to himself  . . . and to fulfillment.
Are you currently working on another story? If so, we’d love some details.
I finished a second novel called SCATTERED SEEDS. This story features Ulster-Scots Edward and Henry McConnell, who flee impoverished, eighteenth century Ireland with the one valuable thing they still own—a torc that once belonged to Somerled of Argyll, their ancestor. Unfortunately, they arrive in Philadelphia at the outset of the French and Indian War.
Currently, I am writing my third novel, which sees one of Somerled’s present-day descendants unearthing a torc on her Pennsylvania farm. Curious about its origins, she travels to Scotland to investigate, where she’ll find more than she bargained for.
What sort of personality does your hero have?
Somerled is a passionate and driven man with a wicked temper and an inferiority complex due to past insults and his mother’s Norse blood.
Did you enjoy writing one scene above all the rest? If so, share.
I loved writing the scene where Peader the monk is cooking turnips over an open flame because I was furious at someone in real life that day. The monk paid the price, unfortunately.
Tell us about your favorite writing environment. Is it indoors, outdoors, a special room, etc.
Believe it or not, my car. It’s the only place I can find complete privacy.
Thank you so much for the spotlight and interview. I know how much time blogging takes. I truly appreciate your dedication and willingness to share my work.

My pleasure, Julie. Wishing you much success. Scent of the Soul sounds like an amazing read.
Excerpt
As Godred’s oarsmen shoved off from the jetty, Somerled wondered if there was any man less suitable to deliver a marriage proposal. Godred of Dublin was coarse, marginally Christian—indeed, marginally sane—and easily riled. Nevertheless, King Olaf liked him, and for that reason alone, Somerled had selected him as his envoy.
“No side trips,” Somerled shouted before Godred was too far away to hear. “Ye have three places to go and that’s it: the Isle of Man, your clan, and back here.” Godred was prone to unscheduled detours.
Unless bad weather or the scent of easy plunder pulled Godred and his thirty oarsmen off course, Somerled would have Olaf’s answer in a few days. If Olaf agreed to the marriage, Somerled would add a wife to the items decorating his new castle at Finlaggan and eventually, the Isle of Man to his expanding area of influence.
The nobles would respect him then. Half-breed or not.
Behind him, a door squealed on one of the two guardhouses standing sentinel over the Sound of Islay. The small building spat out Hakon, his chief guard, another man of Dublin birth and temperament. Hakon strode the length of the jetty to join him. “I have every confidence the Norns will weave Godred a successful journey, my lord king,” he said, his words puffing white clouds above his tawny sheepskin cape.
“If your goddesses have woven anything, it’s an unfortunate headwind,” Somerled said. “Godred is forced to tack.” He closed his cloak and secured it at his throat with a brooch he once plucked from a Viking who no longer needed it. “The wind promises hail. My proposal will be delayed.”
“Aye, likely,” Hakon said, his hair and beard whipping into copper clouds, “but it will hasten Olaf’s reply. Do not despair, my lord. Ragnhilde will marry ye soon enough.”
Despair? Somerled stifled a laugh. Did Hakon think he had feelings for a lassie he had never met? He was about to tease his guard about being a romantic when Hakon stiffened.
“Another ship,” Hakon said, looking past Somerled’s shoulder.
Somerled spun around to inspect the northwestern waters of the channel separating Jura and Islay—the jewel of the Hebrides and the island that served as the seat of his burgeoning kingdom. “Where?” he asked, squinting.
Hakon thrust a finger toward the fog bank blanketing the horizon. “There, at the promontory, in that pale blue strip of water. See it?”
At first, Somerled saw nothing but swooping terns and ranks of swells. Then, an unadorned sail appeared. It crested on a wave, dipped low, and vanished.
“Should I sound the horn?” Hakon asked.
Somerled raked his fingers through the coarse, wheaten mess slapping at his eyes and held it at his nape while he considered his response. Behind them, the signal tower on Ben Vicar was smoke-free. Across the sound, the towers on the frosty Paps of Jura were likewise unlit, although clouds partially obscured their peaks. The Paps had a commanding view. If a signal fire blazed anywhere, the men stationed there would have seen it and lit their own.
“My lord king, should I sound the horn?” Hakon impatiently palmed the battle horn dangling at his broad chest.
Men began to gather on the jetty.
“Let us wait. It is only one ship, and it looks to be a trader. The signal fires would blaze by now if it were someone worthy of our concern.” Somerled glanced back at the mud and thatch cottages shouldering against one another. At their doors, the bows of half his impressive fleet rested on the shoreline, a sandy slip extending well into the distance. The rest of his ships sheltered at the far side of Islay, in Loch Indaal. A signal fire would deploy them quickly and, perhaps, needlessly.
“Alert the village. Have Cormac ready Dragon’s Claw,” he said, “but send only the nyvaigs for now.” The nyvaigs were smaller, but no less deadly. They would be out and back quickly.
Hakon sprinted through the gathering crowd and past the guardhouses. He leapt over a pile of rocks with surprising agility for a man of his years and size. In no time, specialized warriors and oarsmen were boarding the boats. A pony thundered inland, its rider instructed to warn, not panic, the people of Finlaggan.
Though Somerled carried his mighty sword, he had dressed for warmth, not battle. His mail shirt, aketon, and helmet hung in his bedchamber, two miles away in Finlaggan. He singled out a boy in the crowd. “Lad, find me a helmet and a shield, and be quick about it.”
The boy shot like an arrow toward the cottages.
Somerled held his breath as he watched the nyvaigs head out. At the first flash of steel, he would blow the battle horn. His men would light the towers and he would board Dragon’s Claw. The foreigner would be sorry he entered the Sound of Islay.
The ship’s features were barely discernible, but he could see that its high prow lacked a figurehead. He was trying to identify the banner fluttering on its masthead when the ship’s sail dropped and scattered gulls like chaff in the wind. His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for the foreign vessel to sprout oars; it didn’t. It stalled—a sign its crew had dropped anchor.
Dragon’s Claw bobbed next to him at the jetty, her top rail lined with colorful shields and her benches holding sixty-four of his savage warriors. Cormac gripped the tiller, but he would move aside when Somerled barked the order to do so. He would serve as his own shipmaster in the face of an enemy.
Low and curvy with a dragon’s head exhaling oaken flames from her prow, Dragon’s Claw was his favorite vessel, not because she was new or particularly seaworthy, but because he had wrenched her from the last Viking to leave his father’s lands.
The memory of that battle warmed him and occupied his thoughts while the nyvaigs swarmed around the foreigner. Then, they swung about, furled their sails, and rowed for home like many-legged insects skittering on the water’s surface.
When the boats reached the beach, Hakon jumped from his nyvaig and jogged through ankle-deep water, apparently too impatient to wait for his men to haul the vessel’s keel onto the sand. “Well, my lord king,” he said, “it seems to be the day for marriage proposals. It is an envoy from Moray, who comes at the behest of Malcolm. He asks to speak with ye regarding Bethoc.”
“Malcolm MacHeth . . . the Malcolm MacHeth . . . wants my sister?”
He had met Malcolm MacHeth only once, at King David’s court, on a night spoiled by ill-bred lassies who had mocked his foreign garb and speech. Malcolm, a bastard nephew of the Scots king, had observed his humiliation and pretended not to notice.
Yet here was Malcolm of Moray, a claimant to the Scottish throne and a known rebel, seeking Bethoc’s hand in marriage. Tainted bloodline or not, Somerled was apparently worthy of notice now.
 About the Author


Something magical happened in the musty basement of Julie Doherty’s local courthouse. She went there intending to research her ancestry, not lose herself in a wealth of stories, but the ghosts of yesteryear drew her into the past and would not let her go. The trail left by her ancestors in those yellowing documents led her from rural Pennsylvania to the Celtic countries, where her love of all things Irish/Scottish blossomed into outright passion.
She became particularly interested in Somerled, self-styled "King of Argyll" and progenitor of the Lords of the Isles. In 1164, he led a fleet of 164 galleys up the River Clyde in an all-or-nothing attempt to overthrow the Scottish crown. What would lead a man of his advanced years to do such a thing?
Of course, history records he did so because the king demanded forfeiture of his lands. But the writer in Julie wondered ...what if he did it for the love of a woman?
Those early ponderings led to SCENT OF THE SOUL, Julie’s first novel, coming soon from Soul Mate Publishing.
Readers will notice a common theme throughout Julie’s books: star-crossed lovers. This is something she knows a bit about, since during one of her trips to Ireland, she fell in love with an Irishman. The ensuing immigration battle took four long years to win. With only fleeting visits, Skype chats, and emails to sustain her love, Julie poured her heartache into her writing, where it nourished the emotional depth of her characters.
Julie is a member of Pennwriters, Romance Writers of America, Central PA Romance Writers, The Longship Company, Perry County Council of the Arts, and Clan Donald USA. When not writing, she enjoys antiquing, shooting longbow, traveling, and cooking over an open fire at her cabin. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, who sounds a lot like her characters.
Website
Goodreads
Twitter
Facebook
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Time for More Passion in 9th Century Scandinavia. Viking Claim-The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors.

Happy Spring! It’s been a brutal winter here in New England but the snow is finally melting and it won’t be long before everything starts turning green again. Likely because it’s been so frigid in my neck of the woods, I made sure to travel back not to winter but summer when ‘visiting’ ninth century Scandinavia.
Though the Viking King and Kol were around plenty, this time it was all about Raknar. The more serious of the brothers, I loved further exploring his backstory. What made him a little rough around the edges. This is the first time I’ve written a hero that’s not only a hardened warrior but a sexy single father who adores his son. And how exactly was a man like that going to work out with strong-minded, emotionally unavailable New Yorker, Veronica? Better than I ever would’ve anticipated. Naturally, the physical attraction is there but they form a bond that ultimately helps them overcome old wounds.
This is definitely one of my more serious tales but it suited this couple and in the end, they were one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. So if you’re ready, I give you the next story in The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors…Viking Claim.
Blurb
Veronica tries to cope with losing her sister but is drawn to everything that seemingly took Megan away. A magical stone. Rune staves. A Viking king. The far distant past. It all seems too impossible to believe. Until she slides down a snow swept hill near Maine’s, Raven’s Nest cliffs straight into a reality she never could have imagined.
Of dragon blood and brother to the king, Raknar Sigdir ‘the hunter’ is determined to welcome any woman from the future if it means he can conquer anew for his people. For those he cares about most. However, Veronica, the irresistible woman thrust back in time, soon has his mind less on loot and more on all the things he forgot about himself.
Honor. Decency. Pride. The ability to love.
A pact with the seers hangs in the balance when a ninth century Viking gives in to his heart to protect a modern day woman from a sworn, powerful enemy…his former wife. Rash actions mean an uncertain outcome. A new fate unfolds. An ultimatum is given. A claim must be made. Now all that lies ahead is a challenge that might very well mean the loss of an unparalleled passion found across time. 
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  iTunes
Excerpt
Raknar was heading in her direction.
Though tempted to take a healthy swig from her skin, she didn’t. Instead, Veronica stood up straighter and waited for him to approach. Believe it or not, she’d never seen him look quite as intent as he did at this moment. As if the devil was coming for her soul, but he’d get there faster. Purposeful, focused, he strode up to her. Before she could say a word, he yanked her against him.
Not a kiss.
Not quite.
But so very close.
Eyes nearly shut; his mouth hovered centimeters from hers, his hot breath a whisper over her lips. It was as if they were reliving that moment when he first pulled her down onto the Drakkar longship. Save now they were far closer, unparalleled need pulsating and palpable between them, like a living, breathing thing.
“Raknar,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Her eyes slid shut. His lips came closer, hovered, rested against hers but didn’t move. Nothing existed but the feel of him against her. A renewed fire, a blatant want that had been there since the moment they first laid eyes on one another.
A shiver raced through her.
Lightning fast, he dug one hand into her hair and the other around the side of her neck. Still they didn’t move. Lips close. Breath mingling. Heat didn’t just flare but roared between them, an untouchable element made to mock, to accentuate the place both fought but needed so very much.
Somehow they were better at this. Wanting but not taking. Needing but avoiding. Pushing but not going all the way. Yet they had that in common. An unwillingness to scale the walls they’d erected.
His lips moved away and his cheek pressed against hers, his whisper close to her ear. “Come. Dance with me, woman.”
In any century.
Raknar gave her no chance to respond before they moved closer to the fire and she was in his arms, her body swaying slowly against his. Veronica dropped the skin of mead, not interested in her drink as she floated, lost. Just like she’d been that first night. Gone within his arms.
Gone within him.
Though it only felt like moments, the night drifted away. The planet turned. The stars moved. Vikings laughed, danced, partied, sang, but never once did Raknar let her go. They moved, touched, but never kissed. His hands drifted over her body not lewdly but worshiping, as though he memorized her every curve, every line that made up her form.


Viking Heart
Coming June 4th Available for pre-order.
Amber is heartbroken. Supposedly because of a pact made between three ninth century Viking brothers and Mt. Galdhøpiggen’s seers, her sisters have vanished into the distant past. Struggling with grief, she leans on her part-time fling Sean until even he is torn away. Or so it seems.
Of dragon blood and brother to the king, Kol Sigdir ‘the lucky’ has been determined to avoid his fate since the moment he promised himself, sight unseen, to a woman from the future. He adores all women and it’s no easy thing knowing he has to eventually pledge his heart to just one…until he meets Amber. A spirited artist and musician, she captivates him. When she offers him a soul-deep glimpse at what was missing from his life, he soon wonders how he will ever be able to let her go.
As Kol and Amber grow closer, they face multiple threats. Eager for revenge, King Alrek declares war. To make matters worse, he has an ally nobody could have anticipated. One determined to see everything come to an end.
Hearts struggle, rip apart, and then are rebuilt when the laws of time are tossed aside. A thousand years means nothing when two star-crossed souls are meant to connect. Even so, will the strength of love be enough to withstand a powerful enemy and bridge a gap across time already closed?
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  iTunes


Ready to go a-Viking?Join me on tour.The loot? $25 gift card!
April 6th3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, & Sissy, Too!April 7thDeal Sharing Aunt
April 8thClaire Warner Literary Musings 
April 9thRoxanne’s Realm
April 10thFang-tastic Books
April 13thThe Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
April 14thMonlatable Book Reviews 
April 14thBooks N Pearls 
April 15thAngel’s Guilty Pleasures
April 16thMore Romance Please
April 16thParanormal Romance and Authors That Rock
April 17thLisa’s World of Books
April 20thShare My Destiny
April 20thSmokin' Hot Books  

An Angel. A Demon. Sinful Seduction. Three Wishes by Debra Dunbar.

Today I’m thrilled to welcome over Debra Dunbar, author of Three Wishes, a Paranormal Romance. Publisher: Anessa Books Date of Publication: March 7, 2015 ISBN: 978-1505671193ASIN: B00RKE5608 Number of pages: 229Word Count: 79,000 Cover Artist: Phatpuppy Art 
Book Description
Dar helped his foster sister become the ruler of Hel, and helped her free the enslaved humans from the elves. It’s about time he helped himself – to a fun week of mayhem in the Windy City. Collapsing a few buildings and corrupting politicians is an ideal vacation for a demon in Chicago, but Dar didn’t count on a beautiful angel sabotaging his fun and putting him to work.
Asta is an angelic enforcer, scanning for demons in her assigned territory and sending them to an early grave. Unfortunately, the latest trespasser from Hel has diplomatic immunity - but immunity doesn’t mean she can’t coerce him into helping her track and dispatch the powerful demon that’s been cycling in and out of her radar for the last few days.
Demons are the sworn enemies of every angel, but Asta must learn to trust Dar or the dark presence that is growing in Chicago will spread - and this particular enemy has the skills and knowledge to send human civilization back to the dark ages.
She has one week left as an enforcer before she returns to her heavenly home – one week to catch an elusive monster, and one week to safeguard her heart from the demon who is determined to seduce her to sin.
Available at  Amazon     iTunes    BN
Let’s Interview!
What inspired you to write this book?
My books feature demons and angels and I’ve dealt with summoning in other novels.  I began to think of this as a moral dilemma for the angels – the summoned demons aren’t here through their own actions.  How can an angel condemn one to death when he/she was dragged here through a human’s magic?
That dilemma of delivering preemptive justice was the perfect situation for my angel and her very unusual demon counterpart.
How did you come up with the title?
The villain in this book is a genie in a bottle – a demon who was summoned from Hel six hundred years ago and trapped inside a vessel until he performs his contracted service.  All it takes for him to be released is for the human currently owning the bottle to make three wishes.
And you can imagine how pissed off he’s going to be after being stuck in a bottle for six hundred years.
What made you choose the main setting for your book?
I grew up in Northern Indiana an hour away from Chicago.  It is such an amazing city – the museums, the diverse neighborhoods 
If you had to sell your book based on one run of dialogue (start quote to end quote), which would it be?
“I get the feeling you’re going to smash my face in or rip one of my arms off.  No sense in getting my clothes all bloody.  You should probably get naked too, although I think those pants are beyond salvage.  Pity.  I like the way they hug your ass.”
Are you currently working on another story? If so, we’d love some details.
I’m working on the first draft of Sins of the Flesh, which is book 2 in my Half Breed Series.  The heroine is a half-succubus/half-elf, and her love interest is an incubus.  Yes, there’s a lot of sex in these novels!
Sins of the Flesh takes place in Maui where Amber is meeting Irix after having been separated from him for six months.  Their reunion turns to more than sex on the beach when a farmer performs a fertility ritual with dire consequences.
Are your book/books available in audio? In other languages? If so, give us more details about where we can get them and what languages they’re in.
The main Imp Series is available in audio, and the first in the series – A Demon Bound – is currently in the process of German translation.
What genre/genres do you prefer to write? Are there other genres you’d like to write in the future?
So far everything I’ve written straddles the urban fantasy/paranormal romance/dark fantasy lines.  The constants in my writing so far have been dark humor and paranormal elements.  I’ve thought of branching into horror, but that’s probably it. 
Do you write books in series? If so, share a bit about the series you currently have published or are coming soon.
I love writing series and series spin-offs!  The Imp Series has six out of the ten books already published, and there are currently three stand-alone spin-off novels (of which Three Wishes is one).  I also have a spin-off series about a half succubus – the Half Breed series.  
Excerpt
Stupid revolving doors.  What idiot thought these things were a good method of entering a building? She stood watching as the door made its circuitous route. Could she time it so she actually managed to get in between the sections?  The last time, she’d been knocked backwards onto the pavement. 
That wouldn’t be a graceful entrance given her current dress and sky-high stilettos.
“Need help?”
She recognized his voice even before the faint energy trickled across her skin with its siren song.  How did he do that?  Thank Aaru all demons weren’t as stealthy as Dar, or her job would be nearly impossible. As she turned, she realized that with her heels, she towered over him.  In flats, she was the same height as the demon, but the shoes she loved so much put Dar’s chin right at her bosom — a fact he’d quickly realized and had taken advantage of.
“Want me to get the door for you?” he asked her breasts.
“Did you make reservations?  Otherwise we can skip the revolving door and just head over to Taco Bell.”
The demon chuckled and brushed a curl from her bare shoulder, his fingers lingering against her neck while his eyes explored the skin north of her cleavage.  “Of course I made reservations.  I didn’t want you to give me any excuse to not eat tonight.”
“I swore I’d play your game tonight as long as you help me catch the other demon. I’ll eat anything you put in front of me.” 
Why did that cause the demon to nearly fall over laughing?  Did he have something in particular he wanted her to eat, the thought of which was giving him such amusement? 
Oh.  Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best thing for her to say given his proclivity toward the sin of lust.
Wiping his eyes, still chuckling, Dar strode forward, stopping the revolving door to the angry protests of those trapped inside.  “Then let us dine, my angel.”
Asta took a deep breath and walked past him, putting her palms on the front of the glass as she’d seen the humans do.  Hopefully he wouldn’t bump her out as he had the other evening.  With these shoes on, she’d probably land face-first on the plush carpet.
“Ready?”
She should have known he’d squeeze into the tiny space behind her, pressing the full length of his form against her back and rear.  Asta tried to scoot forward, only to find herself sandwiched between the demon and the glass.  The humans yelled at them to move, but Dar held still, his body warm and powerful.
“Maybe we should just stay here a while.” His hips shifted and Asta felt something stir to life, hard and firm against her buttocks. 
She’d told him no sex, but rubbing against her in the doorway wasn’t off limits.  And it was most definitely brought with it welcome sensations.  “We need to move,” Asta said with regret.  She tried to push the door forward,
“I love pissing them off,” he whispered against her hair.  “So much anger over such a minor inconvenience.  The gifts of Aaru seem to have turned them into a bunch of minor demons, don’t you agree?”
It did seem a fair comparison at the moment, but Asta hadn’t squandered her century here.  She’d seen sparks of divinity in the human race, and no demon was going to convince her otherwise.
She shifted to look at him over her shoulder, rubbing herself along his body in the process.  Oh stars, this felt good.  If only those darned humans weren’t causing such a racket. “You’re being inconsiderate.” Her voice was breathless. “They have a right to be angry. And they’re still very early in their evolution.  Give them another ten-thousand years or so, and I think you’ll find they’re more angelic.” 
About the Author

After majoring in English with a concentration in Medieval Literature and Folklore studies, Debra promptly sold out to the corporate world, occasionally writing marketing copy and op/ed articles for a local city paper. By day, she designs compensation programs, after dark she stuffs her nose into obscure mythology, and feverishly writes her novels. A DEMON BOUND is her debut novel.
Debra lives on a farm in Maryland with Sweetie, three sons, and a Noah's ark of four legged family members. She drives an old PT Cruiser, couldn't carry a tune if you duct taped it to her back, and enjoys an occasional cosmopolitan (heavy on the vodka). On a good day, she jogs and horseback rides, hopefully managing to keep the horse between herself and the ground. Her only known super power is 'Identify Roadkill'.
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads 

Shapeshifting Wolves Battle for Life and Love. Desert Moon by Anna Lowe.

Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over Anna Lowe, author of Desert Moon, Book One in The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch.
Genre: PNR Publisher: Twin Moon PressDate of Publication: March 4, 2015 ASIN: B00TEEHDPS Number of pages: 133Word Count: 38,800 (roughly 40k) Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Book Description
Lana Dixon knows well enough to steer clear of alpha males, but Ty Hawthorne is as impossible to avoid as the sizzling Arizona sun. Her inner wolf just won’t give up on the alpha who’s tall, dark, and more than a little dangerous. One midnight romp under the full moon is enough for Lana to know she’ll risk her life for him — but what about her pride?
Ty puts duty above everything — even the overwhelming instinct that says Lana’s the one. She’s the Juliet to his Romeo: forbidden. And with a pack of poaching rogues closing in, it’s hardly the time to yield to his desires. Or is love just what this lonely alpha needs to set his spirit free?
There’s more than meets the eye on Twin Moon Ranch, home to a pack of shapeshifting wolves willing to battle for life and love.
Available at Amazon
Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win 3 ebook copies Desert Moon.Let’s Interview!
How did you come up with the title?
The title comes right out of the setting and the story. There's something magical about the desert at night, and a full moon brings out the impulsive and unpredictable side in all of us. It's a perfect place to throw a destined mates together – just let them try to resist the temptation! (And they do try, silly things.) 
What made you choose the main setting for your book?
I wanted a strong, moody location that could act as a character in itself and immediately knew Arizona would be the perfect setting for my dark and dangerous series. I come from the East Coast (like the heroine of Book 1, Lana) but I fell in love with Arizona the minute I arrived there for a job on a ranch. That special place quickly inspired the Twin Moon Ranch of the books, from the gateway to the dining hall with its massive stone fireplace, in addition to the overall ranch layout and the overall issues that influence the ranch management (land and water rights, environmental issues, etc). It didn't take long for my imagination to sprinkle werewolves and hot alpha heroes into a place I love and make it even better!
Tell us a little bit about the conflict in your story.
Desert Moon is a second chance love story between a thorny Romeo and his stubborn Juliet.
Lana Dixon knows well enough to steer clear of alpha males, but Ty Hawthorne is as impossible to avoid as the sizzling Arizona sun. Her inner wolf just won’t give up on the alpha who’s tall, dark, and more than a little dangerous. One midnight romp under the full moon is enough for Lana to know she’ll risk her life for him — but what about her pride? 
Ty puts duty above everything — even the overwhelming instinct that says Lana’s the one. She’s the Juliet to his Romeo: forbidden. And with a pack of poaching rogues closing in, it’s hardly the time to yield to his desires. Or is love just what this lonely alpha needs to set his spirit free?

If you had to sell your book based on one run of dialogue (start quote to end quote), which would it be?
This is one of my favorite scenes, when Ty and Lana talk for the first time in the ranch's dining hall, where everyone shares meals a couple of times a week:
                “Hi, she mumbled, her eyes meeting his. The blue hues of her irises were so varied and vivid, he could swear they were swirling and changing as he looked on.
                “Hi,” he said. Well, he tried to. His lips moved but the sound didn’t quite make it out. He struggled to remember where he was and why.
                Right, dessert. He reached for a piece of pie exactly when Lana did. Their hands froze halfway to the platter, both wavering over the key lime pie. The last slice.
                “Cody!” He cursed his brother under his breath.
                Lana pulled back. “You take it.”
                “No, you.”
                Her eyes narrowed at him. Crap. He hadn’t meant for it to come out as an order, but she was already gritting her teeth.
                “No, you,” she ground out.
                “I’m good.” He tried taking the edge off his voice, but he was badly out of practice.
                Lana studied him so closely he would swear she could see into his childhood memories. Her nostrils flared, and he saw her catch a breath and hold it. Then she slowly exhaled and turned to the platter, scooping the last piece onto the last plate. She forked it roughly in half and held it between them with icy determination.
                “We’ll share,” she growled.
                The alpha in him both bristled and admired her pluck. The wolf licked his lips — and not for the pie.
                Her eyes flickered, focusing on something in his. He noticed an outer edge of green in her eyes that he’d missed before, like the foam that slid off the crests of waves.
                “Trouble today?” she asked, keeping her voice down.
                Trouble? So she’d noticed the meeting. “No trouble,” he insisted.
                She snorted. “I do that, too.”
                “Do what?”
                “Pretend.”
                Ty blinked. “I don’t pretend.”
                “Then what’s the trouble?” She took a bite of pie and licked a smudge of cream off her lips.
                A breath caught in his throat, and a word slipped past his lips before he could catch it. “Rogues.”
                Her face hardened as some dark memory rocketed through her eyes. “Confirmed report?”
                “Not yet, but…”
                She nodded, letting him trail off. In an absent movement, her right arm rubbed briefly over her left, where a wicked scar trailed out of her sleeve.
                “Trouble?” he murmured, eyes on the scar. For a shifter to scar, it must have been bad.
                She yanked the sleeve down. “No trouble.”
                I do that, too, he wanted to say. Pretend. His gut warmed with something strangely close to pride. This East Coast wolf wasn’t just sassy; she was tough, too.

What genre/genres do you prefer to write? Are there other genres you’d like to write in the future?
I loves putting the “hero” back into heroine and letting location ignite a passionate romance, whether that's in my dark and dangerous werewolf series or the exotic and exciting travel and adventure romances I will release starting in July. In all cases, I like creating a heroine who is independent, intelligent, and imperfect – a woman who’s doing just fine on her own. But give her a good man – not to mention a chance to overcome her own inhibitions – and she’ll never turn down the chance for adventure, nor shy away from danger.
Do you prefer to write short stories, novellas or novels? Why?
I love variety, so I write a bit of everything. The Twin Moon Ranch stories are all long novellas (about 40,000 words each) while my travel romances are short novels, and the adventure romances are fast-paced novellas of 30,000 words. In between, I love writing short stories that show couples living their Happily Ever After – whether that's Lana bringing Ty home to meet her parents in Desert Wolf, or a marriage proposal up a New Zealand mountaintop between the hero and heroine of Island Fantasies (a travel romance set on a tropical island near Bora Bora). As a reader, I like variety too: sometimes I prefer a long saga, other times a weekend read, and sometimes just a quick escape into a world and characters I love.
Do you write books in series? If so, share a bit about the series you currently have published or are coming soon.
Desert Moon is the first of the Twin Moon Ranch series. Book 1 focuses on Ty, the ruling alpha's oldest son – a man whose life is heavy in responsibility and light on privilege. In Book 2, Desert Blood, his brother Cody gets center stage. The brothers are opposites: if Ty is a thundercloud, Cody is a ray of sunshine, and his life is the other way around: heavy on privilege but light on responsibility. Cody yearns to be trusted with more – and gets his chance when his destined mate Heather comes along, on the run from vampires. Book 3 is about Kyle, a cop turned shapeshifter in a biker brawl who was taken in by Twin Moon Ranch. He's still not quite settled into pack life until childhood buddy Stefanie comes along and gives him something to believe in again. Books 4 and 5 are about Ty and Cody's sisters, and you'll love them, too. All the story have different villains and different outside conflicts, such as land rights, inter-pack rivalries, and rogue incursions. And all end in sweet epilogues (I just can't resist those).
The adventure romance series I'm writing right now is set around a group of six cousins who inherit their grandfather's sailboat, Serendipity. The grandfather's last wish was for each set of siblings to reconnect by going sailing together in the Caribbean. In Uncharted Waters, responsible Seth is sailing among the gorgeous reefs of Belize with his party-boy brother Tobin when he meets Julie, an archaeologist on the run. In Uncharted Territory, Tobin gets his second chance at the woman who turned him down at the altar six years before. Now Cara is stuck in a remote Panamanian village, and Tobin's the only one who can get her out. The question is, will she let him back into her life? The series continues with Tobin and Seth's cousins as they get their turn to sail the boat, two at a time. The sailboat lives up to its name as it brings each cousin to true love through serendipito 
Excerpt
“One of Tyrone’s boys is coming to get us,” Jean said, looking up and down the road.
                Lana looked too, gnawing her lip. It figured the kid would be late. While the two older women stood in the shade of a bus stop, catching up on twelve years of news, she paced. Out into the piercing sun, then back into the muted shade. Out and back, out and back again, each footfall a step into the past, then a determined about-face into the future. She tried to numb her senses, but they kept darting around, tasting the arid flavor of this place, listening to its emptiness. Everything felt so familiar, yet so strange, like visiting a childhood home after someone else had moved in.
                That was the strange part. Arizona had never been her home and it never would be. She’d only visited once before. She went stiff at the memory, as if the old emotions might creep up and carry her away. Emotions like hope and love and unexpected passion, blazing bright. She’d been so young and impressionable back then — only twenty, and that was the problem. Too young to know better than to fall in love with a vague scent in the hills. For a while, she’d even imagined the scent came with a man.
                But it had been a siren song at best, and it had ruined her. There was no man, no promise, only a ceaseless whisper that stirred her during the day and haunted her at night. And now she was back again, right in the thick of it: the heat, the dust, the lying air.
                “Oh, there he is,” Jean called.
                A faded Jeep Wagoneer pulled up to the curb and creaked to a stop. From what Jean had said, Lana had been expecting the driver to be a newly licensed teen — a kid delighted for any excuse to get out on four wheels. The type with narrow shoulders, a pocked complexion, and gangly limbs.
                She was not expecting this.
                Lana gaped as the “boy” emerged from the car with a smooth, easy step. Evidently the state of Arizona was now issuing driver’s licenses to rugged, six-foot-two slabs of muscle and raw power. Authority bristled off him in waves, as if he were facing an entire platoon and  not just a couple of guests. Dark. Sensual. More than a little dangerous. This was their ride?
                “Hello, sweetie.” Old Jean gave him a cheery peck on the cheek. The gesture made Lana’s inner wolf hiss so fiercely that she wobbled and took a step back. Since when did a man affect her like that?
                Since right now, apparently.
                But why? She didn’t want or need a man in her life, especially one who was so…so…alpha.
                And yet every molecule in her body was screaming Mine!  
About the Author

Anna Lowe loves putting the "hero" back into heroine and letting location ignite a passionate romance. She likes a heroine who is independent, intelligent, and imperfect — a woman who's doing just fine on her own. But give the heroine a good man (not to mention a chance to overcome her own inhibitions) and she'll never turn down the chance for adventure, nor shy away from danger.
Anna is a middle school teacher who divides her time between coastal Maine and a village in view of the Austrian Alps. She loves dogs, sports, and travel — and letting those inspire her fiction.
Once upon a time, she was a long-distance triathlete and soccer player. Nowadays, she finds her balance with yoga, writing, and family time with her husband and young children. On any given weekend, you might find her hiking in the mountains or hunched over her laptop, working on her latest story. Either way, the day will end with a chunk of dark chocolate and a good read.
http://www.annalowebooks.com/author/anna-lowe
http://www.annalowebooks.com/blog
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Anna-Lowe-Books/677291092359521

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Magic. Romance. Danger. Witch's Moonstone Locket by Marsha A. Moore.

Hot off the press! Today it’s my pleasure to feature Marsha A. Moore’s new release, Witch’s Moonstone Locket, book one in A Coon Hollow Coven Tale.
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: March 24, 2015
Word Count: 94,000
Book Description
Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead.
Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him.
Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger. 
Available at Amazon.
Excerpt from Chapter One: Great Aunt Starla’s Cornbread
Warm rain mixed with Jancie’s tears, and she rose to stand beside her mother’s grave. Not ready to let go, she bent at the waist and her fingers followed the arc of her mother’s name—Faye Sadler—in the headstone. She knew the unyielding shape well. The word goodbye stuck in her throat. She’d said it aloud many times since her mother died almost a year ago, only to have the cemetery’s vast silence swallow her farewells. Rain beaded on the polished granite. Her hand, bearing her mother’s silver ring, slid down the stone and fell to her side.
If only she could’ve said goodbye to her mother before. After years of caring for her mom while she suffered with cancer, Jancie had missed the final parting moment while getting a quick bite of dinner. The pain still cut like a knife in her gut.
On foot, she retraced the too-familiar path toward her work at the Federal Bank. Although she’d landed a job as manager at the largest of the three banks in the small town of Bentbone, the position was a dead end. Within the first six months, she’d mastered all the necessary skills. Now, after a year, only the paycheck kept her there.
Jancie turned onto Maple Street. As usual, wind swept up the corridor, between old shade trees protecting houses, and met her at the top of the tall hill. September rain pelted her face and battled the Indian summer noontime temperatures. She zipped the rain parka to keep her dress dry, pulled on the strings of the hood, and corralled strands of ginger-colored hair that whipped into her eyes. Once able to see, she gazed farther into the valley, where the view spanned almost a mile out to the edge of town. Usually, farmers moved tractors across the road or boys raced skateboards and bikes down Maple Street’s long slope.
Today, on the deserted acreage just east of Bentbone, people moving in and out through a gate of the tall wooden fence breathed life into the rundown carnival. Surprised, Jancie crossed the street for a better view. She’d lost track of time since Mom passed. The coming Labor Day weekend in Bentbone meant the valley coven’s yearly carnival. She and her close group of girlfriends always looked forward to the cute guys, fair food, and amazing magical rides and decorations…even if her father didn’t approve of witches or magic. The residents of the sleepy town awoke to welcome a host of tourists wanting to see the spectacle created by the witches of Coon Hollow Coven.
Somehow, Jancie had forgotten the big event this year. Last year, she didn’t go since Mom was so sick and couldn’t be left. Jancie sighed and turned onto the main street toward the bank. She’d lost so much since her mother passed. Really, since the diagnosis of cancer.
At that time, four years ago, Jancie withdrew as a sophomore from Hanover College, a select, private school in southern Indiana near the Kentucky border—too far away. Instead, she returned to stay with her mother and commuted to Indiana University. Balancing hours with the home health care nurse, Jancie had few choices of career paths. Not that it mattered, since her remarried father expected her to find a job in Bentbone and continue taking care of her mother. Despite the sacrifices, Jancie loved her mother, who’d always managed money for a few special things for Jancie—a new bike, birthday parties, prom dresses—even though their income was tight. Mom had paid for her tuition and listened to every new and exciting college experience.
Jancie smiled at the memory of Mom’s twinkling brown eyes, that mirrored her own, when she asked about what happened during the day’s classes: if Jancie liked the professor; if she’d made new friends.
When she rounded the last corner, her thoughts returned to the work day. At the bleak, limestone bank building, reality hit. Jancie pulled against the heavy glass door, and a gust swept her inside. She peeled off the drenched jacket and hung it on the coat rack of her small, plain office. At her desk again, she took her position.
Through the afternoon’s doldrums, punctuated by only a handful of customers, her mind wandered to the carnival. She’d gone dozens of times before and loved it. But since Mom passed, nothing seemed fun anymore, like she couldn’t connect with herself and had forgotten how to have a good time. She organized a stack of notes, anything to put the concern out of her mind.
***
After work, Jancie drove her old blue Camry the five miles to the other end of town where she lived in her mother’s white frame house, the home where she grew up, now hers. Glad to own her own place, unlike her friends who rented, she’d made a few easy changes. In the living room, a new brown leather couch with a matching chair and ottoman. She replaced the bedroom furniture with a new oak suite for herself in what used to be her mother’s room. With pay saved from the bank, Jancie could remodel or build on, but she didn’t know what she wanted yet. Her great aunt Starla had told her to just wait and hold onto her money; she’d know soon enough.
Pouring rain soaked the hem of her dress as she darted between the garage shed and back stoop of the small ranch house.
Glad she’d chosen to get her run in this morning before work, she changed into cozy sweats, pulled the long part of her tapered hair into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen.
Her phone alerted her of a text, and she read the message from her friend Rachelle, always the social director of their group: R we going to the carnival?
Jancie typed a response. I guess. R Lizbeth and Willow going?
Yep whole gang. What day?
Don’t know yet. Get back to u. Jancie worried she’d spoil their fun. Even though they’d all been her best friends since high school and would understand her moodiness, she didn’t want to ruin one of the best times of the year for them. Since Mom passed, they’d taken her out to movies and shopping in Bloomington, but this was different. Could it ever match up to the fun of all the times before? “I don’t know if I’m up to that,” she said into open door of the old Kenmore refrigerator while rummaging for leftovers of fried chicken and corn.
The meal satisfied and made her thankful she’d learned how to cook during those years with Mom. Not enough dishes to bother with the dishwasher, one of the modern upgrades to the original kitchen, Jancie washed the dishes by hand and then called Starla. When she answered, Jancie asked, “Can I come over tonight? There’s something I’m needing your opinion on.”
“Why sure, Jancie. C’mon over,” the eighty-five-year-old replied with her usual warm drawl. “Are you wantin’ dinner? I made me some soup beans with a big hambone just butchered from Bob’s hog. My neighbor Ellie came over and had some. She said they were the best she’s eaten.”
Jancie glanced at the soggy rain parka and opted for an umbrella instead. “No, I just ate. Be right over.” Keys and purse in hand, she hung up and darted for the shed.
Five minutes later, she turned onto the drive of the eldercare apartments and parked under the steel awning where Starla gave her a whole arm wave from her picture window. Jancie made her way to number twelve on the first floor.
The door opened, and Starla engulfed Jancie in a bear hug, pulling her into the pillow of a large, sagging bosom. Starla smelled of her signature scent—rosewater and liniment.
Jancie had loved her great aunt’s hugs as long as she could remember. Stress and worry melted away, and she hugged back. Her arm grazed Starla’s white curls along the collar of her blue knit top embroidered with white stars—her great aunt’s favorite emblem.
“It’s so good to see you. Come sit a spell, while I get us some iced tea.” Starla pulled away and gestured to the microsuede couch decorated with three crocheted afghans in a rainbow of colors. “I thought we were done with this hot weather, but not quite yet. That rain today’s been a gully washer but didn’t cool things off much.” The large-boned woman scuffed her pink-house-slippered feet toward the kitchen. “Would you rather have pound cake from the IGA or homemade cornbread?”
Jancie laughed and followed her into the kitchen. She wouldn’t get through the visit without eating. “You’re just fishin’ for a compliment. You know your homemade cornbread is better.”
Starla arranged plates with thick slices of warm cornbread and big pats of butter on top, while Jancie transferred the refreshments to the aluminum dinette table.
“With your hair pulled back like that, you’re a dead ringer for your Ma. So pretty with that same sweetheart-shaped face.” Starla folded herself onto a chair beside Jancie. “You look to be getting on well…considering what all you’ve been through.”
“I’m doing okay,” Jancie said through a mouthful of the moist cornbread. She washed it down with a swallow of brisk tea that tasted fresh-brewed. “But sometimes, lots of times, I feel lost, like I can’t move on.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. I spent time with her through all those years, and it shouldn’t matter, but it does every time I visit her grave and most every night in my dreams.”
“Oh, honey. I know it hurts.” Starla smoothed Jancie’s ponytail down the middle of her back and spoke with a voice so slow and warm, it felt like a handmade quilt wrapping around her.  “You spent all that time and gave so much. Just like when I cared for my husband some twenty years back. I know. I never got the chance to tell Harry goodbye either. Time will heal all hurts.”
Jancie looked down at the marbleized tabletop to hide her teary eyes. “I don’t think I’m ever going to heal, Aunt Starla. I don’t know if I can ever move on.”
“There is one thing you can try. I’d have done it, if I’d have known before decades softened my aching heart. Way back, I was desperate like you.”
Jancie looked into Starla’s blue-gray eyes, set deep inside wrinkled lids.
Her aunt leaned closer. “Not many know about this,” she whispered as if someone outside the apartment door might hear. “There’s an old story about how a member of the Coon Hollow Coven, one who’s recently lost a loved one, is made the teller of the moonstone tale.”
Jancie rolled her eyes. “That’s just a silly story, one of lots that Mom and Dad told to scare me when I was little, so I’d stay away from the coven. When the moonstone locket opens at the end of the tale, you’ll get your wish but also be cursed.”
“Oh no.” Starla shook her head and pushed away from the table. “Let me get Aunt Maggie’s old diary. I got this in a box of old family things when Cousin Dorothy passed. ” She lumbered to her spare bedroom and returned with a worn, black-leather volume only a little larger than her wide palm. Once seated, she thumbed through the yellowed pages. “Here.” She pointed a finger and placed the book between them.  
About the Author

Marsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and paranormal romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales.
The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand.
Every day at the beach is magical!

Website: http://MarshaAMoore.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marshaamooreauthorpage
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarshaAMoore
Google +: http://google.com/+MarshaAMoore
Pinterest:  http://pinterest.com/marshaamoore/
Amazon author page: amazon.com/author/marshaamoore
Goodreads author page  http://www.goodreads.com/marshaamoore