Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 324

A Review of The Sinner by Amanda Stevens

The Sinner by Amanda Stevens
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

OMG, best Graveyard Queen book yet. Of course I always say that. These books keep me flipping pages and wanting more.

This has become one of my favorite series. Mystery, spine tingling terror and romance...my favorite elements all in one. Some scenes are so creepy you won't want to read them at night, but you will because you won't want to put the book down.

Stevens keeps you riveted to the page with a first person narrative that puts you right in the middle of the story.

The Sinner picks up about a year after the events of The Visitor.

(Spoilers ahead if you have not read book 4, The Visitor yet)

Devlin and Amelia split up and after the terrifying events at Kroll Cemetery. Devlin seemed to drift away, unwilling to acknowledge the supernatural occurances that were happened.

Amelia goes on with her life, even though she misses Devlin everyday. Finding out he's so clearly moved on makes things even harder.

She's been hired to restore Seven Gates Cemetery, and it doesn't take long for Amelia to stumble on a mystery and a dead body tied to that decades old mystery. Soon she realizes everything is connected as people from her past and those close to her heart are all part of a big puzzle that needs to be solved. There's more to this than your average murder mystery. Clues lead her deep into a world of evil rituals and straight into the arms of a stranger. Can he heal or broken heart or will he rip it out?

I am sad that there's only going to be one more book in this series, The Awakening, which releases in April 2017. The author says The Awakening is the end, for now at least, fingers cross more will eventully come. But the good news is that a spin off series may happen as she's working on an ebook featuring Amelia and Devlin and a new cast of characters. So that means there may be more in this world, even if it doesn't feature Amelia and Devlin.

I received this review copy from NetGalley

View all my reviews

Seduced by the Marine Dom by Brandi Evans

Seduced by the Marine DomAn Erogenous Zone StoryBook TwoBrandi Evans
Genre: erotic romance
Publisher: Apple Blossom Publishing
ISBN: TBAASIN: TBA
Number of pages: 47Word Count: 15,615
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Book Description:
When Lily attends a WWII-themed War Ball at The Erogenous Zone, the hottest sex club in Dallas, she’s looking for a night of no-strings-attached fun, but things get heated when she finds herself drawn to sexy Marine Captain Damien. He’s dripping in alphatastic perfection. Strong, powerful, emotionally broken—and a Dom.
Damien pushes Lily to her sexual limits. She pushes him to his emotional limits. And together, they create enough heat to burn down the club.


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Excerpt:
Power mingled with desire, and they filtered through my bloodstream like an erotic drug. For no other reason than I’d asked, that supersexy soldier had abandoned a table of enthusiastic feminine admirers. For me. Plain, average, sexually adventurous me.
His powerful gait devoured the distance between us, and before I could wrangle my excitement to a manageable level, he towered over me. Had he grown larger on the walk over? If someone dropped him into the Grand Canyon, would he get wedged in at the shoulders?
I couldn’t stop the shivers that raced through me or the goose bumps following in their wake. The hypnotic pull of his baby blues threatened to steal my breath. I opened my mouth, but my brain misfired. Nothing came out except a pathetic squeak. God, was I thirteen again?
Get it the fuck together.
His lips curved into an I-know-something-you-don’t tilt. “I must say, the number of beautiful women at the club has certainly increased since I’ve been gone.”
Beautiful…
His compliment washed over me. I’d never considered myself unattractive, but I didn’t think myself beautiful either. I kept in shape, took care of myself, wore nice clothes, had a kick-ass hairstyle, but beautiful I wasn’t.
Blue Eyes cocked his head to the left, his forehead wrinkling, his eyes focused and intense. “You don’t think you’re beautiful, do you?”
His statement was so matter-of-fact my jaw hinged open and stayed fixed.
Laughter rumbled in his chest, and he tapped his index finger against my bottom lip. “Has anyone ever told you your mouth forms the sexiest ‘O’ when you’re flustered?”
I attempted to shake off his comment. “Flustered? I wasn’t—”
“When I mentioned the increase of beautiful women at the club, you looked pleased to be included in the group, but your shoulders stiffened just a fraction, as if you weren’t able to fully accept the compliment.”
“What the…how did you…what?”
“Why don’t you think you’re beautiful?”
“I think I’m beautiful.” The words came out more defensive than I’d intended.
He shook his head. “Don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me…beautiful.” He emphasized the last word, both with vocal inflection and by crooking his index finger to the underside of my chin and tilting my head so I had no choice but to look at him. “Now, let’s try this again. Why don’t you think you’re beautiful?”
“I, uh. It’s not that I, um, that, that…” Goddamn it. I closed my eyes for a quick moment and gathered my thoughts. “I get cute a lot. Fun, energetic, sexy, but not beautiful. It’s just not a word I associate with myself.”
He nodded, lips curling into a triumphant smile that showed off a sexy-as-hell chin dimple. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
Yes.
But I shook my head.
He offered me his arm. “Shall we find a seat?”

About the Author:
Brandi Evans was raised by a caravan of traveling Gypsies. She spent her days learning the ways of her people and her nights lost in legends as old as time. Okay, not really, but that's way more interesting than the truth!
In reality, Brandi grew up the oldest child of an ordinary family. Grade school, middle school, high school. Nothing extraordinary happened until she left the nest. She joined the military, went to college, got married, and became a mom. And somewhere along the way, she discovered she liked to read—and write!—stories hot enough to melt eReaders.

http://brandievansauthor.com/index.html
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https://www.pinterest.com/brandievans1/
https://twitter.com/brandi_evans\ 
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Top Ten Fun Facts about the Hero and Heroine of Jasmine Moon by Celia Breslin

Top Ten Fun Facts about the Hero and Heroine of Jasmine Moon
1. Evan lives in Indiana and Mina hails from Southern California. They meet in the Rapid City Regional airport, South Dakota.
2. Mina is a clothing designer and a feisty, dominant wolf. She owns her own business.
3.  Evan is a dominant wolf and business owner, making a fortune in the software industry. His brother Ross is his business partner.
4.  Mina loves pink and wears it often, from sparkly pink Ugg’s to pink sweaters and jeans and pink lipstick. There’s no such thing as too much pink!
5.  Evan is partial to the color red. Lucky him, Mina is a redhead.
6. Mina is short and curvy, with pale but freckled skin, blue eyes, and cherry-red hair worn long and wavy. If my book were a movie, the actress to play Mina would be: Karen Gillan.
7. Evan is over six feet tall with a muscular build and long legs, amber eyes, and brown hair worn military short. If my book were a movie, the actor to play Evan would be: Liam Hemsworth.
8. Mina loves insanely sugary black coffee. And whiskey. Sometimes together, on a cold winter night.
9. Evan is a coffee fiend, too.  Small batch, Scottish ale and whiskey are his go-to bar beverages.
10. Mina and Evan are total workaholics, fully committed to their respective businesses. Mina unwinds by hanging with her family and friends, such as her BFF, Lexi. Evan has forgotten how to unwind. Hopefully, Mina can help him out with that… :-)



Jasmine MoonBlack Hills WolvesCelia Breslin
Genre:  Paranormal Romance
Publisher:  Decadent Publishing
Date of Publication: June 3, 2016
ISBN:  9781683610458ASIN:  B01GKB9WMO
Number of pages:  108Word Count:  36,400
Cover Artist:  Fiona Jayde
Book Description:
Tech mogul and workaholic Wolf Evan Luparell has little time for distractions but takes a break for his brother’s wedding in South Dakota. When asked to escort another wedding attendee from the airport to Los Lobos, he agrees. Then he meets the curvy spitfire, and she ignores him.
Designer and Wolf Mina Carver didn’t mean to be rude to the handsome, glowering man claiming to be her ride, but she was busy working. Now she must endure a ride to the Black Hills with the cranky but sexy Dominant Wolf. Unexpected mating energy sparks between them, but still—should she dismiss, or kiss him?
Kisses win and they agree upon a no-strings fling. But with each wedding activity throwing them together, and their powerful chemistry and mate compatibility complicating matters, can two workaholics truly have their fun then walk away?

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Excerpt:
Evan tipped his head and eyed the ceiling. Prompt replies, punctual people. Striking deals and hitting deadlines. These items made his world tick. Not loitering around a miniscule airport pulling a Waiting for Godot moment on infinite repeat for a no-show, flakey designer from California.
God grant him patience and balls of steel when he showed up without the designer and the all-important wedding dress, because his future sister-in-law Darci would certainly be unhappy. He’d have to beg a favor from his assistant, have her snag a couture dress, and fly it ASAP to the Rapid City airport. He could afford a gown from some famous designer in Chicago or New York, something likely superior to whatever his soon-to-be sister-in-law’s no-name friend had created. Right? Shit, he hoped women’s fashion proved so easy.
He took a deep fortifying breath and froze. Airport smells assailed his senses—the sharp tang of bleach and lemon-scented cleaners, the floral perfume from Rental Car Girl who eyed him like a piece of candy. Black coffee, donuts, fried fast food, and under it all, the distinct musk of wolf.Female wolf.
She smelled damn good. His wolf perked up, and his legs propelled him toward the empty baggage claim, where one bright-pink suitcase covered in Hello Kitty stickers sat, unclaimed, on the unmoving L-shaped conveyor belt. Her scent, stronger here, socked his gut, and his gaze shot to the corner.
The chaos around the woman stunned him silent. Large, paper coffee cup, half-eaten banana, and a quarter of a powdered doughnut perched on a brown paper bag next to her. Crumbs splattered the linoleum and the woman’s long-sleeved blue blouse in a thick layer of white, sugary dust. On her other side, two pink garment bags lay like corpses, along with a bubblegum-pink unzipped duffel as long as her outstretched, denim-clad legs. Some of the bag’s contents—pads of drawing paper and large swaths of fabric—protruded over the opening, the fabric splaying over her legs in a rainbow-colored blanket. Her feet peeked out of the mess, encased in sparkling pink UGGs. Good grief, sequins? She smacked her shiny boots together in a poor imitation of Dorothy and bobbed her head from side to side in time to some music only she seemed to hear. Her shoulder-length red hair, the color of ripe dark cherries—his favorite fruit—gleamed under the harsh airport lighting and curtained most her face from his view, save a pert nose and small chin, both speckled with a generous amount of freckles.
He’d always liked freckles.
Clearing his throat, he stepped closer, but she didn’t flinch in surprise or look up. Her attention remained on the tablet on her lap, the stylus between her pale, freckled fingers swiping without hesitation over her screen. Her extreme focus reminded him of his sister Lexi in one of her artistic frenzies. The resemblance ended there.
While his sister took after the rest of their tall, lean, and tan family, this woman seemed the polar opposite—pale, petite, curvy, and freckled. His preferred type. A flicker of interest stirred in his gut. Did she have those cute little spots on the rest of her? Speckled fur when in her wolf form? His wolf huffed his interest in finding out, but Jasmine the Oblivious Designer didn’t acknowledge his presence.
His fascination faded, replaced by renewed irritation. She damn well should have scented and noticed his wolf by now, and she should have waited at their agreed upon rendezvous point. She should not be sitting on the dirty linoleum of an airport, lost in her work. Didn’t she realize the dangers of ignoring her surroundings?
He positioned himself right in front of her wiggly, booted feet. “Excuse me, J—”
“Sh.” She raised her arm and flicked her hand in the universal get lost gesture.
He gaped at her. “Excuse me?”Another wave of her hand while her stylus streaked across her tablet screen with the other. “Not interested.”
Nice voice. Low and husky. Her attitude, on the other hand…. “But—”
“Go away.” Her velvet voice carried a stubborn edge.

In other circumstances, he would’ve admired her strength. But he’d wasted copious amounts of time hunting for the clearly inconsiderate and irresponsible female. “Fine. Get your own damn ride to Los Lobos. Jasmine.”
About the Author:
Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. Her award-winning vampire series - The Tranquilli Bloodline - is available from Champagne Books.  Jasmine Moon is her third werewolf story (and a stand-alone read!) for Decadent Publishing’s multi-author, shifter line: Black Hills Wolves.
When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to Joss Whedon’s TV shows and movies.

Web site: http://www.celiabreslin.com/
Blog: http://www.celiabreslin.com/blog/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/celiabreslin
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeliaBreslinAuthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CeliaBreslin
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/celiabreslin/
Newsletter:  http://eepurl.com/bxqwRL



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Author Sign-Ups Still Open for the Haunted Halloween Spooktacular

Bewitching Book Tours is offering a fun Halloween promotion open to all authors who have a book featuring supernatural characters, terrifying tales, haunted homes, wicked or wonderful witches, vampires, werewolves, demons and more.
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A month and a half of Bewitching Tour Stops, Social Media Promotion and a Kindle Fire Giveaway along with a multi-author Facebook party in October.
To participate you’ll need to provide details for one book you wish to promote including a high resolution jpeg of your cover and an excerpt. You’ll also need to provide a Halloween theme guest blog or a short Halloween flash fiction story.For the Facebook Party you’ll need quizzes, games and a few prizes for your author party block.
The fee for this promotion is $100 per author for one book. If you wish to promote additional books each additional book is $50.
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NOW AVAILABLE! MAGIC AND MAYHEM, The ULTIMATE Fantasy Boxed Set! 22 NY Times, USA Today and International Bestselling Authors

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21 full-length novels of magic, mayhem, mystery, adventure and romance. Yours for an insanely low price.Get ready to be swept off into lands filled with magic, mystery, action, adventure and even romance with these 21 full-length fantasy novels! With over one-million words packed with witches, dragons, pirates, shape shifters, mercenaries, gods and more, these stories will introduce you to some of the most memorable characters and exotic worlds that exist in fantasy today. No cliffhangers here -- each book is either a standalone or first in series and all have satisfying endings.
22 of the hottest fantasy authors have banded together to bring you this incredible boxed set, but it's only available for a limited time! At this incredibly low price, you're paying a penny per sixty minutes of spellbinding fiction -- a bargain that can't be beat. Grab this collection today before it's gone for good!About the BookMagic And Mayhem Boxed Set
by Jasmine WaltFeaturing
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New York Times Bestselling Authors of The Mind Dimensions Series Rebecca Hamilton
USA Today Bestselling Author of The Forever Girl Series Emily Goodwin
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Contagium SeriesMargo Bond Collins
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Legally Undead SeriesJ.A. Cipriano
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Lillim Callina ChroniclesRabia Gale
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Broken Fairy Tales SeriesD.K. Holmberg
Internationally Bestselling Author of The Cloud Warrior SagaThea Atkinson
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Witches of Elantium SeriesEmma L. Adams
Internationally Bestselling Author of The Alliance SeriesS.C. Green
Internationally Bestselling Author of The Engine Ward SeriesA.W. Exley
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Internationally Bestselling Author of The Atomic Sea SeriesGwynn White
Internationally Bestselling Author of The Crown of Blood SeriesLindsey Fairleigh
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Internationally Bestselling Author of the Brooding City SeriesErin Hayes
Internationally Bestselling Author of The Harker TrilogyCalinda B
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Blurred Lines SeriesNatasha Larry
Internationally Bestselling Author of the Darwin's Children SeriesGenre
Fantasy
Paranormal Fantasy
Urban FantasyPublisher
Blue Bolt PublishingPublication Date
August 2, 2016    This promotion is brought to you by Pure Textuality PR.

Waking Eden by Rhenna Morgan

But What About The Bad Guy?
It’s funny how often I hear from people how much they like my bad guys. I mean, it’s kind of the last thing a writer expects to hear after someone finishes a book, but I get it all the time. If you’ve read the first two books in The Eden Series, you already know there’s an upcoming shift in antagonists, but comments from my beta readers and early reviewers lead me to believe I’ll get more of the same comments about the new bad guy (or bad girl, as this story happens to have). J
It’s taken me a while to figure out what’s generating those comments. At first I thought it was because I actually show the antagonists point of view. Not a lot of books do that, but it was a technique I wanted to try and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed using it. But I think there’s more to it than just point of view. In fact, I think the answer lies in their root characterization.
Just after I’d first sold Unexpected Eden, I was talking with my editor about Maxis Steysis (the bad guy in book one and two) and his upbringing. As we were talking about what turned him into the ass he is when the story started, she asked me what was good about him. It was that pivotal question that generated subtle currents of vulnerability and depth beyond just being a tool who moved the story forward.
When crafting the new antagonist for Waking Eden, I asked myself the same thing. The result is Serena Doroz Steysis, a woman most people hate, but feel a little bad for as well. As a woman, she’s always been discounted in her family and is desperate to make her own mark. Sure she goes about doing so all wrong, but when you see what she’s grown up with, you can’t help but pity her situation.
What about you? Have you enjoyed any stories recently that featured antagonists you were subtly drawn to? Or do you prefer to keep your focus rooted to the hero and heroine? I’d love to hear your comments and opinions on the bad guys (or girls) in your favorite books.

Waking Eden
The Eden SeriesBook ThreeRhenna Morgan
Genre: Contemporary Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Rhenna Morgan
Date of Publication: 7/26/2016
ISBN-10:  1-945361-01-8 

ISBN-13:  978-1-945361-01-2 


ISBN-10:  1-945361-00-X 
ISBN-13:  978-1-945361-00-5 
ASIN:  B01FNMEPZU
Number of pages: 272Word Count: 100,121
Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
Book Description:
The only hope of saving their race is to surrender their hearts.
With a long foretold and annoyingly vague prophecy warning of immense change for Eden, Ramsay Shantos is forced to hunt words and legends instead of rebels. For a man of action, it’s the worst kind of agony. Until he encounters a sexy librarian who bears the fated prophecy’s mark. A mark no human should possess.
Tortured by her mixed heritage, Trinity Blair has enjoyed little human touch in her life, let alone intimacy. Even the most innocent contact fills her mind with a person’s deepest, darkest secrets—except for Ramsay. Her immunity to his thoughts sparks a fragile hope that she might finally experience the passion of her Dark Spiritu brethren…unless he’s the dangerous crossroads her father predicted.
When knowledge of Eden goes viral in the human realm, Trinity is Ramsay’s only hope for quelling mass panic. Can he risk revealing the secrets of his race to the guileless ray of sunshine? Or is she the unknown source of Eden’s destruction?
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Excerpt:
Trinity dropped to her knees beside Ramsay and checked the pulse at his neck. Smooth and strong, unlike the frantic flutter of her own heart.She smoothed a wayward strand of dark hair off his handsome face. Not just any man could pull off long hair without coming off girly, but this guy did it easily. Kind of a sexy barbarian who’d traded his leather armor for a skin-hugging T-shirt and jeans.Ramsay’s giant friend crouched opposite her and gripped his shoulder. What was his name? John? No. Jagger. That was it. Golden hair and eyes to match—heck the guy looked like he’d been created by Midas. “What happened?” “I don’t know.” She checked the back of Ramsay’s head. No blood, but she’d bet he’d sport a nasty goose egg come morning. God, his hair felt sinful. Thick and smooth. “He grabbed my hand and pulled me up. The next thing I knew, his eyes rolled back and he fell.”Jagger lifted Ramsay’s head, clasped it at the back, and gripped his chin with the other. He scowled down at his friend…or was he concentrating? “I tried to break his fall, but he’s, well…” She motioned toward Jagger’s torso. “Huge, like you.”Ramsay’s eyes popped open with a shake of his head.Jagger eased back on his heels and smiled. “You realize you passing out when you’re coming onto a woman is gonna make for killer blackmail.”Ramsay studied his friend, then her, then her hand on his chest.Her hand. On his chest. Not just touching him, but stroking. Small, comforting motions against hard, hot muscle. Holy crap. She jerked her hand away and stood so fast, she nearly clattered onto the coffee table behind her. Not one vision. Not before or after his fall. That alone should be enough to crow and dance around for days, but mixed with a good solid feel of those muscles, all she could think about was adding both hands to the mix—minus his T-shirt.Ramsay stood and narrowed his eyes.Prey. Beneath his stare, she felt like a gazelle entranced by a black panther.Jagger stepped closer to him, as though he meant to intercept. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”The question snapped Ramsay’s focus. “Must’ve been the trip here. My head went fuzzy and that’s all I remember.” Odd. His words made sense, but the tone and the way he eyeballed his friend made it sound like code for something else.Jagger’s gaze raked her head to toe before he nodded and ambled back to his seat.Ramsay prowled closer, not quite as frightening as seconds before, but still on edge. Predatory. He offered his hand. “Let’s try that again. I’m Ramsay.”Eye candy. The guy was pure unadulterated, grade-A eye candy. She sucked with height estimations, but her lips were on a direct line with the rock hard pecs she’d shamelessly fondled. And there were scattered light streaks in his dark hair. Not much. Only enough to imply her panther spent time lazing in the sun. His voice rumbled, even more tempting than the rest of him. “I can wait all night.” He held his outstretched hand steady, tanned skin tempting her as strongly as his words. Definitely a sun-prone panther. She’d touched him twice already. Surely another wouldn’t hurt. “Trinity Blair.” Their palms met, his hand encompassing hers in a delicious heat that radiated out in all directions and made her want to snuggle up so tight no space was left between them. The world stopped. The bar ceased to exist. No images. No fearsome emotions. Just perfect, addictive touch.Tessa’s voice cut through the cocoon of her thoughts. “Oh, my God. Did you just touch him?”Trinity snatched her hand away and stepped back. “Well, well, well,” Naomi’s sultry voice sounded from the loveseat as she reclined back and draped one arm along the cushions. “This is turning into an interesting night.”Margo stood, jerked her head at Naomi to move, and motioned at Ramsay to sit. “Why don’t you two take a load off? Me and Naomi are headed to the bar. Anyone want refills?”Oh, boy. She’d seen that matchmaking gleam in Margo’s eyes before, but never aimed at her. Definitely not good if she wanted to keep any semblance of control for the rest of the night. “Sit with him,” Margo whispered in her ear before turning and tugging Naomi along with her. Ramsay grinned, clearly hearing her friend’s traitorous instruction. He reached for her elbow to guide her forward, but stopped and pulled his hand away. Trinity lurched toward the loveseat and sat as far away from everyone as possible.Ramsay settled close, not quite in the middle but enough that no one else would join them. His gaze rested on her throat before it jumped to meet her eyes. “So, no touching. Sounds like an interesting story.” More like the only thing interesting about her, and yet the one thing she couldn’t talk about. Even if she could share something about her Spiritu self, her brain seemed to have gone on strike in favor of ogling the strapping god planted two inches away. “It bugs me, is all. Most people make me antsy. I guess…” She rubbed her hand along her thigh. “I guess you slipped in under the radar, and then after, I didn’t have time to think.” Again his gaze dropped to her neck, and his smile faltered. She checked her collar and made sure the sides were pulled together, hiding the pendant her adopted father, David, had given her before he died.“You sure?” Ramsay tilted his head, considering. “I think we should try again. Test the theory.”Well, if that wasn’t a perfect opportunity offered up on a silver platter. All her life, the only person who’d been able to touch her without impact was Kazan. She’d give anything to try something beyond a simple handshake.Ramsay leaned in, his arm stretching along the seat back. His facial structure radiated the same power as his body—proud nose, strong jaw covered in sexy stubble, thick eyebrows, one arched a little more than the other. His warm, earthy scent surrounded her, clean with a hint of something exotic. Sandalwood maybe. “Touch me.”Hard to call it a command the way he said it. More of a dark, sensual dare. One that worked nerve endings she didn’t even know existed. “Where?”
As soon as the question left her mouth his expression shifted, eyelids lowering slightly over stormy silver eyes. “Carte blanche. Lady’s choice.”

About the Author:
Rhenna Morgan writes for the same reason she reads—to escape reality.
A native Oklahoman with two beautiful girls and a fantastic husband, her resume reflects her passion for new experiences. Since graduating with a Bachelors in Radio, Television, and Film at Oklahoma State, she’s racked up positions ranging from on-air radio talent, skip tracer, and promotions director, to real estate agent, project manager, and business analyst.
Like most women, she’s got obligations stacked tight from dusk to dawn. That’s where the romance comes in. Reading, or writing, romance has been her happy place since she cracked the spine on her first Christine Feehan book years ago. Nothing thrills her more than the fantasy of new, exciting worlds, and strong, intuitive men who’ll fight to keep the women they want.
Whether it’s contemporary, paranormal, or fantasy you’re after, Rhenna’s stories pack romantic escape for the women who need it.
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Reliquary’s Choice by Melissa Macfie

Reliquary’s ChoiceThe Celtic ProphecyBook TwoMelissa Macfie
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Can’t Put It Down Books
Date of Publication: August 3, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9972024-4-1
Number of pages: 215Word Count: 65,000
Cover Artist: Genevieve Lavo Cosdon, lavodesign.com
Book Description:
Brenawyn knows loss. Her mother, her father,  her husband…that bastard. She can’t let Alex die, too.
With the Coven closing in, Alex flees with Brenawyn to Tir-Na-Nog, even though he knows he is setting her on a path of no return. Brenawyn must say goodbye to her family forever and traverse time. She is the only one who can fulfill an ancient prophecy.
But what is Alex hiding? Has he condemned Brenawyn to serve the gods forever? Or will the depth of his sacrifice bring salvation to them both?
In Book Two of The Celtic Prophecy, Alex prepares Brenawyn to travel to ancient Scotland to claim her rightful place.
Amazon


Reliquary’s Choice Excerpt:
Leo avoided the house—too many memories—but she loved the land. It called to her. The grove was a distance away from the house and the road beyond it, further out into the woods where she could shut out the human noises: a loud engine of some old jalopy wheezing by or what passed for music at an ear-bleeding decibel. When Tom had cleared the land—manually at her insistence—many of the oak and cedar trees had been young, but they flourished with more room to grow, their branches threading together over time. She added others over the years: a willow by the stream, then birch, elm, silver fir, rowan—more than she could remember. It was a peaceful, sacred place.She placed the canvas bag in the center of the grove, taking out the ceramic bowl, a jar, and her mortar and pestle. She was unhurried in her preparations. Taking a knife, she went to the birch tree, peeling some of the exfoliating bark away. This was the first ingredient, appropriate for new beginnings and a cleansing of the past, something she should have done from the start. So much time had been wasted. If only she could go back … but that was a fool’s dream. She knew why she had done it. She had made ignoring the obvious an art form. She had lived with the lie for so long that she had convinced herself that there was nothing otherworldly about Brenawyn. She put the bark deep in her pocket and continued to the elm. She cut a low hanging branch, divested it of its leaves and placed it to join the birch bark. She looked at the tree. Funny how she took from it today as she had in the past: strength of will to save her unborn granddaughter so many years ago, and now that same strength of will to teach her granddaughter the fundamentals of Druidism today.     She walked to the oak and placed her palms against the wide strength of its trunk. She gazed above to its strong branches reaching out to the heavens above. The leaves rustled in the breeze, a few falling at the unseen mark of the coming of winter. She gathered her skirt and cut a piece of the bark, a piece of its armor to give strength and courage to what needed to be done.She heard Alex approach. She was pretty sure this was intentional: he could move as silently as a wolf stalking its prey if he wanted to. He was coming to speak with her. Her mind was a jumble. She wanted him near so he could put himself in harm’s way again to protect Brenawyn, repeatedly if necessary. But she wanted to drive him from her place, too. Willing the need for his protection away was not enough, though. She knew none of them could go back, so she had to come to terms with him and their situation, for which she had no one but herself to blame. Alex would take Brenawyn, and she would likely never see her granddaughter again.Leo busily redoubled her efforts and she didn’t look up, wanted to look absorbed, when he stopped in front of her. He stood there for what seemed to be an interminable time, but then sighed and lowered himself to sit opposite her on the grass. He held his side as he did; that caught her attention, and her eyes rocketed to his face. “I’d have thought you wouldn’t have pain?”“I dinnae suppose ye ha’ had much experience with bringing someone back from the deid?”“I … I don’t.”“Just so then.” Alex pressed his palm into his side and took a deep breath. “Thaur is always pain after. Doonae be worrit for me, it will pass in time.”“How much time?”“Ah, that depends on the extent o’ the wounds. Normally, the pain would cripple a man new ta the resurrection process, but for yer intervention t’will cut down on recovery. I thank ye for that though t’was unnecessary, because my tolerance for pain is higher than that o’ mortal men. I assure ye that I will be able ta defend against any that come for her.”“Like you did back in Salem?” Leo asked, disapproval clear in her voice.“Aye. I ken that I let my guard doon. T’was a judgment call. I dinnae kin that Cormac would be so direct. That he would use the Oracle in such a direct way. They are desperate. They willnae catch me off guard again.”Leo nodded, accepting his statement. “What’s next?”Alex looked at her grimly, saying nothing.“How long do you think we have? How do we prepare?”“A couple o’ days a’ the most ta be safe. We ought ta be gone long before he tracks us haur. If the Oracle got what’ she needs that won’t even buy us that much time.”“I could run with Brenawyn and hide. There are places in the world we could do this. Places of extreme power to hide in plain sight as we did in Salem. We could go to New Orleans or Paris or Rome.”“Leoncha, even if t’were possible, how far do ye think ye would get? What was the toll on ye, Leo, for yer intercession with my resurrection?” “How did you know?”Alex touched the hair at her temples and untucked the lock behind her ear, rubbing the graying strands together to show her. “I ha’ ne’er kent ye ta ha’ gray in yer hair.”Leo took the hair from his opened hand and considered it.“It happened almost immediately I would think,” he added.“Yes, and I, um, I have lost …  I lost control.”“Control?”She looked away and lowered her voice to a whisper, a tear running down her cheek, “My bladder….”“Ah,” he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, “thaur is a cruel price ta pay, always. I ken o’ what I speak.”“Yes, I’d assume you are well-versed in this area.” “Ye are no longer a young woman, and while ye are a strong healer, that’s all ye are. Ye cannae go up against the likes o’ Cormac or the Vate. Ye doonae ha’ that kind o’ power.”“The other option is unthinkable. To let her go, let you take her. The uncertainty will surely kill me.”Alex took a pen knife from his back pocket and opened his right hand to the sky, slicing across his palm. When enough blood welled in his cupped palm, he turned his wrist to let it drip on the ground. “I haurby gi’ my blood oath ta protect….”“Are you insane? Don’t you realize what you are doing?”“Aye, Leo. What else can I dae?”“But, to take the blood oath alone? You’ll be committing your soul.”“My soul?” Alex shook his head. “Leoncha, listen ta me: it doesnae matter much what happens ta me; if she were ta die, or be seduced ta the Coven, all hope is lost. T’would destroy the balance, bring the Formor back ta this realm, and I dinnae kin what after that. “But to bind yourself to her, you’ll pine for her all the rest of your days.”“Dae ye love yer granddaughter so little then? Perhaps I ha’ misunderstood. Can ye bare ta part with her knowing that ye cannae protect her? “Of course not!”“Then let me, Leoncha. I am willing. I ken what a sacrifice yer making. Allow me ta promise all that I am ta dae that in yer place.”“But.”“No, Leo. I ha’ already made up my mind. Ye cannae stop me.”“You will become Gancanaghif she doesn’t return your affection and take the oath herself. Your altruism will turn against you and transform you into a monster.”“I am already a monster.”“No, damn your eyes! Listen to me, Alexander Sinclair: you must not do this. You will fall into depravity. You’ll lure innocents to crave your attentions.”Alex laughed at this, “In another context, ta tell a man that he’d have women begging, clamoring for his attentions, aye that would ha’ been the devil’s own temptation ta a much younger version o’ myself.” He grew sober, shaking his head slowly, “T’is all but done. Dae no’ worry, Leoncha, I will fight the urge ta dae so when I become Gancanagh.” Alex looked up to the heavens, “Hear me. Hear me! All that I am, and all that I will be I pledge to Brenawyn McAllister, daughter of Margaret Farraday, granddaughter of Leoncha Callaghan. Furthermore, I haurby gi’ my blood oath ta protect her as if she were my own. Her life is more sacred and more dear than my own, and if I am ta fail as her lover and protector, may I wander ceaselessly until the end o’ time without the eternal reward.”Alex looked to Leo, “Say it.”“No. I won’t.”“It cannae be done until it is witnessed. Say it. Thaur is any other way.”Leo sighed, “Alexander Sinclair’s vow was heard and acknowledged both in this world and beyond. With his word and mine, his fate is eternally sealed. So mote it be.”





About the Author:
For most of her life, Melissa Macfie has pursued artistic endeavors such as drawing, painting, and sculpting. She holds a M.Ed. in English Education from the Graduate School of Education at Rutgers University, and has spent the last sixteen years as a public school English teacher. She also spent a short time serving as the co-host of Alpha Centauri & Beyond, an Internet talk radio show about science and science fiction. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, Donald. Their children, Elizabeth and Donald, are grown and pursuing their own dreams.
https://www.facebook.com/celticprophecy
@melissa_macfie
https://melissamacfie.com/


https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14547285.Melissa_Macfie

Morrison on my Mind by K. D. Friedrich

An interview with Stan Morrison.
Today, I have a very special quest. The hot and charming Stan Morrison, former FDNY calendar model and the current Mr. July in the Cuties and Critters Calendar.
How are you doing today Stan?
Stan flashed a sexy grin: "Not bad. How are you, sweetheart?"
I'm great. I have to confess, you're my favorite month.
With a slight blush, Stan smiled: "I'm flattered, but I can't take all the credit. Sable, the Sheppard mix I posed with stole the show in that photo. That pooch is awesome and I'm thrilled to say thanks to this calendar Sable found her forever home."
It's a great thing you and your friends did helping the animal shelter by creating a calendar featuring some of their adorable adoptable critters. I think I speak for all us girls when I say, be still my heart. Forget it, when I told my readers I was interviewing you, I was bombarded with questions. It was tough, but I narrowed them down to a few of the best. You ready?
Stan leaned back in his seat: "Absolutely. Shoot."
Here's a question that came up again and again. What qualities do you look for in a woman?Stan: I'm a sucker for confidence and sarcasm. I like a woman who knows what they want and isn't afraid to ask for it.
You have someone in mind. Your face lit up just now. Spill it, inquiring minds want to know. Whose this special woman that makes you flush?
Stan chuckled: "There's only one woman able to make me blush and that's Cat Cross, I'm crazy about her."
Sounds serious.
Stan: "She's the love of my life."
Hmm...do I hear wedding bells in the future?
Stan smirked: "My lips are sealed."
A man with secrets, I like it. Let's go to another question from one of my readers. What is your idea of the perfect evening?
Stan: "I'm an easygoing kind of guy. After a long shift at the firehouse, I'm perfectly content spending a quiet evening at home with my beautiful lady, a huge bowl of popcorn with extra butter, and a good movie."
And what movie would that be?
Sitting back, Stan flashed a huge grin: "I like the horror movies. Whenever Cat watches one of those slasher films, she clings to the closet object, which so happens to be me."
I can't say I blame her. Okay, I have one final question. Our readers are dying to know? Boxers or briefs?
Stan bit his lip. He laughed: "How did I know you were going to ask me that? Well, I can't tell a lie. For the most part, I'm not a brief or boxer kind of guy."
Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?
Another grin tugged at Stan's lips. He leaned up: "Well, if I'm on call at the station, I wear boxers. You can't exactly go commando when you're in full gear, but when I'm off the clock...all bets are off."
Morrison on my MindThe Heart Falls HeroesBook ThreeK. D. Friedrich
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Date of Publication: 6/27/16
ISBN: 9781622103706ASIN: B01HLGCXIM
Number of pages: 207Word Count: 67800
Book Description:
What does a guy do when the girl he's crazy about just wants him for his body? He takes the sexy deal with a secret plan to win her heart. Morrison on My Mind offers the perfect blend of romance and fun, a spicy tale about taking chances and finding love.
Cat Cross has had it with relationships. Her ex-fiancé destroyed her childish dreams of happily ever after when she caught him banging a high-society tramp in their bed. She should have known. Men are only good for one thing, and that’s not opening jars. Determined to keep her sex life casual, she refuses to mix emotion with physical pleasure. No man is worth the risk of another broken heart. Not even the hotter than hell fireman Stan Morrison.
For months, Cat has resisted Stan’s sexy charm and good looks. He’s a temptation she can’t afford to entertain. But after a few drinks and one night of incredible sex, she’s agreed to an exclusive friends-with-benefits agreement with the one man able to set fire to her frozen heart.
Stan’s had his fill of casual sex. He’s ready to settle down, and there’s no better place to take root than his hometown of Heart Falls. Unfortunately, the girl he has his sights on would rather leap into a fiery pit than be tied to any one man. Knowing she’s hesitant to consent to anything permanent, he agrees to her non-relationship contract, planning to convince her he’s worth the risk.
With their sexual agreement set, Cat is confident she’ll be able to satisfy her libido while keeping her emotions in check. Stan is determined to pleasure her body and win her heart. Love was never part of the deal and is strictly against the rules. But as everyone knows, rules were meant to be broken, and Stan intends to rip apart every last one of them.
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Excerpt:Stan, a man known to make a stripper flush, suffered more hot flashes in Cat’s company than a three-alarm fire.An enigma wrapped in a body made for sin, Cat kept her past, even some of her present, a mystery. Her personal exposure went no further than a snarky attitude with a fun-girl exterior.Case in point—tonight, she wore a skin-tight black tank top. Her breasts flowed over the scooped neckline, creating a deep valley of cleavage that he wanted to dive his face right into. The vivid tattoos on both her arms drew his attention next. He’d have to ask her the artist’s name. The skin art exhibited flawless skill, adding a naughty, wicked air to her body language, balancing out her softness with a tough edge sure to slice through any man’s resistance.Her platinum curls brushed her shoulders, sweeping her soft flesh with each sway of her round hips. She encased her plush shapely legs in a pair of tight stonewashed jeans. The hem of each leg touched the floor, the denim a tad too long for her petite frame. She wore her usual Converse sneakers. A diamond stud on the side of her nose caught the light and sparkled. Her bright irises sucked him in every time. The large, sapphire pools surrounded by thick raven-painted lashes glowed beneath the club lights. Thin black lines contoured her almond-shaped eyes, making them exotic. She kept her lips natural, no more than a hint of clear gloss coated her mouth. Not a single blemish marred her porcelain smooth skin. With her pale complexion, she’d be crazy to worship the sun.A modern-day version of Marilyn Monroe, she possessed beauty, brains, and a body that made a man jump up and take immediate notice. Bursting with attitude and spice, Cat dared a man to tame her, even though he had little chance at success. On the outside, she wielded her sarcastic, witty, and flirty manner without shame. Deep within, she oozed feminine sexuality. She wore whatever the hell she wanted. Not that fashion mattered to her. Whether she sported a simple pair of faded jeans or a sleek, tight dress barely covering her fine ass, Cat Cross wore it well.Her curves might not fit into society’s standards, but they sure as hell fit into his fantasies whenever he closed his eyes. She spoke her mind, didn’t succumb to convention, and for some strange reason, she scared the shit out of him.Around her, his usual charm took an exit. His wit became nonexistent. He never knew what to say or how to respond to her flirty comebacks and appreciative glances. She unhinged him like no other woman.She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her attention was locked in her own thoughts. He, on the other hand, shifted with a groan. As always, her presence caused him an instant hard-on. One glance at her full, bouncing breasts and soft round hips knocked him down the evolutional scale by ten thousand years. In an instant, he shifted him from cool, confident gentleman to sex-crazed caveman. Muscles tensed, skin heated, and his heart pounded as his body battled the arousal beating against his usual calm exterior. He cracked his neck and rolled back his shoulders, preparing for the flirty comments to commence.In her hand, she held a deep blue guitar. The sight made Stan tilt his head. She didn’t seem the groupie type.Two steps before she reached him, she glanced up, finally noticing him. A wide grin lifted her kissable lips. Just like that, he lost the war. He winced. His erection throbbed.“Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me. Stan Morrison, my favorite neighborhood firefighter.” Unfazed, her eyes traveled the length of his body. She bit her bottom lip and lifted her brows.He leaned against the wall and nearly fell when his shoulder met with air. Instead of a wall, his body pushed against a door that hadn’t been closed all the way. He quickly caught himself on the doorframe.Shit, did the freaking wall move? He pulled the door closed.The carefree sound of her laugh shot through his chest and struck his heart like a well-aimed bullet. Embarrassment attempted to heat his cheeks. He fought the distress like a warrior. Her ability to unarm him never failed. Several months of fighting off arousal in her presence made him a master at hiding his reaction to her.Well, except for a moment ago, when he’d almost fallen into the supply room, but otherwise, he’d handled himself like a champion. Yeah, just call me Champ.He kept his stance casual with his hands fisted in his pockets. His eyes locked on her as he kept his cool to the hot, deep, hunger burning in her eyes. Jesus, she unnerved him. Those damned enormous eyes entranced him like a pendulum swinging to the ticktock of a clock. Her smile—well, the wicked smirk—dared him to grab her, kiss her, and wipe the amusement from her beautiful face.“What’s going on, beautiful?” He struggled to keep his gaze on her face and not her perfect breasts. Fat chance. He had a better shot sinking a basketball from the opposite end of the court with one hand…blindfolded.“Not much. Getting ready for my set.”He pushed away from the doorframe. “You’re in a band?” Pete never mentioned anything about it. Neither did Cara.“What did you think I was…one of those airheaded groupies?”He glanced away. The thought had crossed his mind. He’d be damned if he’d admit it, though. “Figures. Men always underestimate me, because of these babies.” She gave her tits a quick, gentle squeeze.
His gaze dropped. He licked his lips. Fingers snapped in front of his face, catching his attention immediately. He glanced up to Cat’s smirk. Damn, there went my well-maintained control.
About the Author:
K. D. Friedrich is a writer of Contemporary and Paranormal Romance. A lifelong New Yorker, an overprotective mother (her daughter's words), and an obsessed reader of everything romance. Most days, you can find her hard at work, creating intricate worlds and compelling characters, hot alpha heroes being her favorite. Her novel, Soul Tie Seduction, placed second in the 2013 Golden Palm contest for Paranormal Romance and was a finalist in the 2016 Golden Quill for Paranormal Romance.
Website  www.kdfriedrich.com
LSBooks: http://www.lsbooks.com/kd-friedrich-c489.php
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11364747.K_D_Friedrich
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/KDFriedrich_
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorKDFriedrich
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kdfriedrich_/
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/K.D.-Friedrich/e/B00RR5R1FS

Splinter by Sarah Fine

Splinter
by Sarah Fine
Series
Reliquary #2
Genre
Adult
Urban Fantasy
Paranormal Romance
Publisher
47North
Publication Date
August 2nd, 2016
About the Book
Mattie Carver has relinquished the world of magic, with all its dark temptations. In six weeks, she’ll marry Ben Ward and claim the safe, small-town life she craves. But Mattie’s talents as a reliquary—someone able to smuggle magic within her body—make her a valuable commodity, even to those she trusts the most. Forced out of retirement by a painful betrayal, she must seek the help of the man she’s tried desperately to stay away from: Ben’s estranged brother, Asa.
Asa, a sensor and magic dealer, may have saved Ben months ago, but he’s complicated Mattie’s life beyond imagining. Trailed by lethal mobsters through Chicago’s seamy magical underbelly and an eerie traveling carnival, Mattie struggles to endure the priceless magic she’s holding and her feelings for Asa. Once, she thought she’d chosen her path. Now the only option may be to succumb to the destiny that’s choosing her, and hope she’s strong enough to survive.     Splinter ExcerptBy the time I reached the front door of the cottage, I could already smell dinner. Onions, garlic, bacon. “Ben?” “Kitchen,” he called. “My afternoon splenectomy got canceled.” I frowned. The patient, a nine-year-old schnauzer mix named Gordon Lightfoot, had been diagnosed with cancer of the spleen just a few days before. “Why?” “They decided they wanted to put him down instead,” Ben said as I joined him in our kitchen. He handed me a glass of merlot. “They took him home and are spending the weekend with him. He’ll come back on Monday.” My throat got tight at the news, but Ben looked unruffled. He’d had longer to process the decision. “You could have saved him.” He nodded. “But it would have been expensive. They said they couldn’t afford it.” “Couldn’t you have . . .” I took a quick sip of my wine. I’d been about to suggest he offer to do it for free, or for a much lower fee, something he used to do all the time. But we were still repaying the debt he’d racked up with his addiction to Ekstazo pleasure magic . . . and to other types of magic as well. He used Knedas juice on you, didn’t he? Asa whispered in my memories. I squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s too bad. Are you okay?” “Just part of the job.” His fingers caressed my cheek. “You look tired, babe.” I let out a weary chuckle and set my wine glass on the counter. “Isn’t that a socially acceptable way of telling someone she looks terrible?” He took my face in his large, warm hands. “You look as beautiful to me as you ever have, Mattie.” Liar, I thought. But I stayed quiet. He kissed my forehead. “I came home early to cook dinner for you. Bucatini with bacon, tomato, and onions. Something hearty to put some meat back on your bones.” I pulled away from him. “My mom called you, didn’t she?” “Am I not allowed to talk to my future mother-in-law? She wanted to make sure you had a nice, relaxing evening. Said you’d had a busy day filled with hair and dresses and tricky flower arrangements.” That would be what my mom told him. No matter how bad things were, she’d embroider the edges of the truth with a pretty silver lining. It was like she believed that naming a bad thing gave it power, but if we just talked around it, maybe it would simply go away. “Yeah. Who knew wedding planning was so exhausting?” Hey, I’d learned from the best. Ben ushered me onto the screened porch, where we could see the emerald buds dotting the branches of the trees that lined our yard, the daffodils poking their little green heads through the soil in the flower beds. We ate our dinner in near silence, him gobbling down pasta while I picked at my food. It smelled good, but I already felt full, like my stomach had been stuffed with something huge and brittle and too much weight would cause it to splinter. After we were finished, we did the dishes together. Ben’s hands snaked around my waist as I dried my hands with a towel. He bowed his face into my hair. “You didn’t believe me when I told you that you were beautiful to me.” I folded the towel over the edge of the dish rack. “I never said that.” “You don’t think I know you well enough to tell? Come on, Mattie.” His fingers spread, stroking across my ribs. I fought the urge to pull away, knowing he could probably feel each one. “I never said that, either.” A breath of laughter warmed the top of my head. “Because you don’t say much of anything these days.” “I’m stressed out. It’s no big deal, just a lot of details to manage.” “Then let me help. I’ll take time off—” “You can’t, and you know that.” He sighed. “I know.” He was determined to pay off the debt to the contractor who’d renovated the vet clinic, and he wanted to get it done before the wedding. “But I want to do something for you.” He tilted his head and kissed the side of my neck. “I love you so much, and I just want to make you happy.” His hand slid around to my stomach and began to dip into my pants. I grabbed his wrist. “Not tonight, okay? I’ve had a really long day.” His hand stilled, but he continued to nuzzle the side of my throat. “I’d be happy to relax you.” I closed my eyes and tried to summon my desire, but all I could find was a wary exhaustion. “You’re so sweet, Ben, but I’m just not up to it.” “I’ll do all the work—I promise.” While I lay like a rag doll beneath him? The idea—just another reminder of how much I’d changed—made my stomach turn. “No.” His tongue slipped along my skin. “Come on. It’s been months . . .” I leaned away from him. “It hasn’t been that long.” He pulled me against him, letting me feel his arousal. “It’s been twelve weeks and three days.” “You’ve been counting?” I ducked under his arm and took a few steps back, crossing my arms over my chest. He ran his hands through his light-brown hair, shot through with golden strands. “Can you blame me? I’m dying here, Mattie.” “You’re dying? Way to make me feel guilty.” He let out a long breath. “I only meant that I want you. I miss you. I love you, and I want to be close to you. Can you blame me for that?” “No,” I said quietly. “I love you, too. But I haven’t felt like myself lately, okay? Just give me a little time to pull myself together. I’m getting there. And you deserve the best of me.” “I deserve all of you!” He moved toward me, his arms out as if to enfold me, but I put my hands up to keep him back. He stopped and his expression hardened. “Goddammit, Mattie, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s like you want to be sick. Like you’re using it to keep me at a distance. Why don’t you just admit it?” “Because it’s not true! I’m trying to get better.” “Oh, really?” His honey-brown eyes flared, and he walked over and opened the cabinet above the coffeemaker. He reached in and took out a pill bottle. “I counted these. You haven’t taken a single one in the last two weeks.” “Because they don’t help. The attacks still come. And they make my thoughts all fuzzy.” He slammed the bottle onto the counter. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to get better if you’re not even willing to follow your doctor’s advice.” He grimaced. “Especially after what we’ve spent on copays and prescriptions over the last nine months.” When he saw my stunned look, his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.” “Or maybe you said exactly what you meant.” “I’m just tired. Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow when my head’s on straight.” He turned and trudged toward our room, but paused and looked back before he entered. “I’m going to get make it an early night. Join me?” “I’ll be there soon.” His jaw clenched, but he nodded and disappeared into the room, leaving me standing in the kitchen. I carried the pills into the living room and sank into the couch, cradling the gently rattling bottle to my chest. The eerily familiar noise was like a fuse sparking to life, burning down until it triggered the explosion of memories. Pockets full of magic disguised as the most mundane things—floss, baby oil, Pez. They rattled when he walked, when he ran, when his legs flopped to the bed the one time he was too sick to take care of himself and let me do it for him. Come with me, Mattie. We’re a good team. We can figure this out. Together. I hadn’t asked him just what he wanted to figure out. How to get away from Frank Brindle, the boss of the West Coast? How to get Ben free without giving up our freedom in return? Or how to figure out the tangled, messed-up, inevitably doomed thing the two of us were together? “You know very well what I meant, Mattie,” Asa whispered. My eyes flew open, and there he was, sitting on the rug, a lean arm slung around his bent knee, looking relaxed even though he’d apparently just broken into my house. “I don’t have any idea,” I replied. “And how did you get in here?” “You let me in.” He rolled his eyes. “How is it that you can deal with a shitload of ancient Strikon pain magic inside your chest but not be able to deal with your own heart?” “You helped me with the magic. This is different.” He crawled toward me, predatory and smooth in the darkened room. My heart lurched as he came closer, but I was like prey, paralyzed by the look in his eyes. He stopped only when his face was an inch from mine. “No, Mattie. It’s exactly the same.” His mouth descended on mine, and a flash of relief lit me up. But the moment our lips touched, the pain stabbed straight through my chest, from my breastbone to my spine and everywhere in between. I gasped, jerking up, my eyes flying open, air squeaking from my throat in hitching breaths. I was alone in the room, alone with myself, alone with so much hurtful truth that I couldn’t contain it all. I doubled over, desperate to stay quiet so Ben wouldn’t hear. But it was all I could do not to scream as the agony radiated down my spine and up my neck, threading searing pain across my breasts. I clamped my hand over my mouth and drew my knees to my chest as a dark knowledge shifted and turned inside me, cutting my insides with its jagged edges, forcing me to look, as much as I wanted to go on pretending it didn’t exist. I hadn’t let go of Asa. Somehow, he’d stayed with me, haunting me. Because I’d let him. Because a part of me missed him, wondered where he was and what he was doing, wondered if he ever thought of me, wondered if the life he’d offered was something I should have explored. And it was ruining me, body and soul. I managed to sit up. Fumbling, I unscrewed the cap of the pill bottle and let two pale blue ovals fall onto my palm. I tossed them into my mouth and swallowed, then winced as they slowly slid down my dry throat. “I made my choice,” I whispered. Yes, it had been tempting. And yes, so was Asa himself. Painfully so. But I was never meant for a life like that or for a man like him, both endlessly complicated in ways I’d only just begun to understand. And if I didn’t move on, I was going to lose the life I had. “I’m not going to let that happen.” I pushed myself off of the couch and headed for the bedroom.The Reliquary Series      
About Sarah FineSarah Fine was born on the West Coast, raised in the Midwest, and is now firmly entrenched on the East Coast. 
When she's not writing, she's working as a child psychologist. No, she is not psychoanalyzing you right now.
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An Interview with a Demon - Dreams in the Dark by K. Margaret

An Interview with a Demon
Taking a seat across the demoness, she wasn’t what I expected. Rumors of the empusae demon spoke of a tall, Amazonian woman with wild red hair and a glare that could turn your soul to dust. The female was anything but. Empusa wasn’t much taller than my own five foot two frame. Her golden blonde hair framed an almost angelic face, but her hallow cheekbones looked as if you could sharpen a blade on them. I wouldn’t call her pretty, though. In truth, I’m not sure there is a word that could describe her. Only thing that came to mind, goddess.
She glared at me when I didn’t start talking right away. Ok, so that part of the legend was correct, her glare could make your soul feel like it was turning to dust.
I cleared my throat. “We’ll just get right to it then. Tell us a little about yourself.”
“Oh pet, I don’t believe you have that much time. I’ll give you the basics, though if you want to know more, and you should want to know more about me, do yourself a favor and read Endless Nightmare. It happens to be my origin story. So, a little about me… I’m the one and only empusae demon in existence. I currently reside in the demon hell realm, Gehenna. Not for long, of course, I’m working on a way out.”
“Living in Gehenna, I assume you see a lot of conflict. Would you say you embrace it or run from it?”
“I run from nothing. Fear isn’t a feeling I’m familiar with. I embrace the darkness, embrace the chaos. I thrive on the conflict. It’s what pushes me.”
“I would imagine you would have to build up a wall living in such a place, create a tough exterior. How do you think the people you surround yourself with would describe you?”
Empusa laughed, and not the cheery kind. “I’m the one thing they all want to possess, to control. They don’t know if they want to fuck me or kill me, but they all want me. They fear me and worship me, just as they should. But none of them will ever have me.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself. You can’t be all badass, though. You must have some weaknesses.”
“Having weaknesses will get you killed. My mothers taught me one important lesson, and they taught me the hard way. Trust no one. Let no one close to you. Take what you want but never give part of yourself in return. I don’t have weaknesses, I have strengths. My strength is knowing no one will ever come before me and my needs.”
“My mom always told me never to say never. Don’t you think one day you might want love and happiness?”
“Love is an illusion, a human emotion used to manipulate and control. Happiness is subjective. Who says I’m not happy? Who says the life I created for myself isn’t exactly what I want?”
“You must want more than being imprisoned within the confinds of Gehenna. What are your goals?”
“I want to escape the prison my mother banished me to. I want to show her what a mistake she made. I want to bathe in her blood.”
“But, come on, you must want a Happily Ever After, too?”
“The only thing HEA stands for is Happily Empy After. Because what I want is what I get.”
“Other than planning your escape and the demise of your mother, what else do you do? Is there a place you feel safe? Free? Is that even possible for you?”
Empusa pauses and I wonder if she’ll actually answer. “The Dream Realm,” she finally says. 
“It’s where I go to find a way to escape Gehenna, but it’s also a place I can pretend to be someone else, somewhere else. A place I can pretend to be free.”
“Is there someone there you go to see? Someone you’ve met through dreams?”
Something flashes in her eyes and her face softens. It happens so fast I was sure it was just a trick of the light.
“No comment. I think I’ll keep that part to myself.”
“Oh, I have a feeling we’ll be find out all about your dreams soon. One more question, though, what are you going to do next?”
“What will Empusa do?” she asks with a smirk. “Well, pet, that’s easy. Whatever the fuck I want.”

Dreams in the DarkDark DreamsBook 2K. Margaret
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: August 4, 2016
ISBN: 978-1534924017
Number of pages: 197 (paperback)Word Count: 81063
Cover Artist: Ariel LeAnn
Book Description:
Whispers abound in Gehenna, Zeus knows the empusae is alive and he wants her dead. A war is coming, and a war is exactly what Empusa’s been training her pets for.
Deep down, Empusa only wants one thing—the demise of those who banished her to Hell, and she will stop at nothing to escape and exact her revenge. Traveling the Dream Realm, she spends countless hours searching for her ticket out, and she’s finally found him.
Krael Connolly, the Crown Prince of Gehenna, spends his days researching demons, particularly the elusive empusae, and his nights being visited by his Emmy in his dreams. As the Demon of Vengeance, he fights a battle with his inner demon every day, but his humanity continues to win out…although, the demon of his dreams is testing that control.
He endlessly fights against the dark, while she fights against the light. She calls to his demon as he struggles to bring out her humanity. She lives for chaos, blood and destruction, but he makes her experience something she'd never experienced before—emotions.
But ultimately, what will Empusa do?
Whatever hell she wants.
Excerpt:
Screams of torture and cries of agony surrounded Empusa. From her vantage point high atop a rock formation, inside her property line in the middle of Gehenna, the demoness looked out over the vast wasteland and liked what she saw. As far as the eye could see, numerous battles were taking place. Battles for food and power, and all of them to the death. The dark sky above shifted between varying shades of black, with a slight tint of red creating an eerie sight. The red grew thicker and darker by the minute, signaling the death of the demons below. As each one fell, the ground sought nourishment, inhaling the fallen’s essence and leaving behind a red mist. The sight comforted Empusa like a baby’s blanket would. She was raised on death and mayhem, became its lover until nothing was left of her soul but a darkened void that sought only one thing: the demise of those who banished her to the depths of Hell in the first place.Another anguished cry split the air, causing a slow, devious smile to spread across the demoness’s blood red lips. By the gods, she loved the sound. The agonizing, helpless pleas of those of the damned who wouldn’t last another hour. Usually, Empusa forced such sounds from her fellow imprisoned demons, but she could be satisfied with someone else playing her a lullaby tonight.Lowering herself against the hard, cold stone, Empusa stretched out on her back, one hand dangling over the edge into nothingness. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to pull her into the Dream Realm. Well over a century ago, Empusa had seduced the nightmare demon, Epiales, and stolen his powers, allowing her free reign over the realm. She could control it, manipulate it, and use it toward her advantage. For countless hours, she used it to search for the one who could free her from her prison. A prison her bitch of a mother tossed her into millennium ago when she was no more than a child.Gehenna, the Demon Hell Realm, had been her home for so long, her childhood on Mt. Olympus became all but a distant memory. The sweet, loving child of her past got buried so deep, she no longer admitted to ever being such a creature. Living and surviving among the worst of the worst of the demon species, Empusa learned to become more than a survivor. She’d become the one demon all others feared, a force to be reckoned with. Not only did every being within the confines of Gehenna fear her, but they all wanted her. She’d become a legend amongst their kind. Living in a realm where once imprisoned you stayed for eternity, Empusa set her sights on the one thing no one before her ever accomplished. Escape.The cries echoing through the night vanished the deeper into sleep she went. Soon she found herself standing in the center of a long, white hallway. Doors of the same nondescript color lined up on either side of her as far as the eye could see. She stood there for a moment, deciding on which direction she wanted to go. Epiales must seriously miss the power to control such a place. How lonely it must be to not be able to escape the prison he currently resided in. Not that Empusa cared of the hell she placed upon him. He’d possessed a power she needed, so she stole it. Out of all her weapons, it was possibly her favorite in the endless battle she fought.The toe of her thigh-high black boot tapped with impatience against the white marble floor. The one man she wanted to be available to her wasn’t. Empusa didn’t know what time it was on the realm he resided in, but she didn’t care. She specifically came for him. The need to see him, to touch him, to taste him left her off kilter most of the day. Empusa did not appreciate the feeling. She didn’t like not having control over every aspect of her life. This particular male caused her to do the unexpected, like seek him out. The audacity of him not to be where she wanted him to be, when she wanted him to be there, grated on her nerves.
Her heart kicked in her chest as, one by one, each door around her vanished until only one remained. For a moment she thought she miscalculated and Krael would be available. Her body betrayed her with the mere thought, causing her heart to slam in her chest, but she knew right away it wasn’t Krael. The feeling in her chest changed, making it feel as if her heart plummeted to her feet signaling a disappointment she didn’t want or need. A snarl passed her lips and the urge to kill something invaded her thoughts. How dare he make her feel things? It was a good thing no one was around to witness her behavior. If there had been, she would have killed them. No way would she allow anyone to think of her as weak. 

About the Author:
K. Margaret is a paranormal romance author living in Georgia. Her love for words, storytelling, and mythology started as a teenager and continues to grow. When she isn’t sucking down pots of coffee and writing, or hanging out with her teenage daughter, she can usually be found in front of her TV watching football, her other obsession.
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