Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 354

One Tempting Proposal by Christy Carlyle

One Tempting ProposalAn Accidental Heirs NovelChristy Carlyle
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: Avon Impulse
On-Sale: 11/17/2015 |ISBN: 9780062428011
Becoming engaged? Simple. Resisting temptation? Impossible
Sebastian Fennick, the newest Duke of Wrexford, prefers the straightforwardness of mathematics to romantic nonsense. When he meets Lady Katherine Adderly at the first ball of the season, he finds her as alluring as she is disagreeable. His title may now require him to marry, but Sebastian can’t think of anyone less fit to be his wife, even if he can’t get her out of his mind.
After five seasons of snubbing suitors and making small talk, Lady Kitty has seen all the ton has to offer…and she’s not impressed. But when Kitty’s overbearing father demands she must marry before her beloved younger sister can, she proposes a plan to the handsome duke. Kitty’s schemes always seem to backfire, but she knows this one can’t go wrong. After all, she’s not the least bit tempted by Sebastian, is she?
HarperCollins    Amazon    BN
Google Play     iBooks
Add it On Goodreads
Chapter 2Cambridgeshire, May, 1891
Slashing the air with a sword was doing nothing to improve Sebastian Fennick’s mood. As he thrust, the needle-thin foil bending and arching through the air and sending tingling reverberations along his hand, he glared across at his opponent, though he doubted she could see any better than he could from behind the tight mesh of her fencing mask.His sister parried before offering a spot-on riposte of her own, her foil bowing in a perfect semicircle as she struck him.“Are you making any sort of effort at all?”Seb bit back the reply burning the tip of his tongue. Fencing was the least of his concerns. In the last month he’d learned of the death of a cousin he’d barely known and inherited the responsibility for one dukedom, three thousand acres of land, hundreds of tenants, twenty-eight staff members, one London residence, and a country house with so many rooms, he was still counting. He could find no competitive pleasure in wielding a lightweight foil when his mind brimmed with repairs, meetings, investments, and invitations to social events that spanned the rest of the calendar year.And all of it was nothing to the bit of paper in his waistcoat pocket, separated by two layers of fabric from the scar on his chest, dual reminders of what a fool he’d been, how one woman’s lies nearly ended his life.He wouldn’t open her letter. Instead, he’d take pleasure in burning the damn thing.Never again. Never would he allow himself to be manipulated as he had been in the past. He had to put the past from his mind altogether.Fencing wasn’t doing the trick. Give him a proper sword and let him dash it against a tree trunk. Better yet, give him a dragon to slay. That might do quite nicely, but this dance of lunges and feints only made his irritation bubble over.Yet his sister didn’t deserve his ire, and he’d no wish to stifle her enthusiasm for the newest of her myriad interests.“I fear fencing and I do not suit, Pippa.” As she returned to en garde position, preparing for another strike, Seb hastened to add, “Nor shall we ever.”Pippa sagged in disappointment when he reached up to remove his fencing mask. “I’d hoped you might find it invigorating. A pleasant challenge.”In truth, his mathematical mind found the precision of the sport appealing, and the physical exertion was refreshing. But when he’d inherited the dukedom of Wrexford, Seb left his mathematics career at Cambridge behind. And weren’t there a dozen tasks he should be attending to rather than waving a flexible bit of steel about at his sister?“Invigorating, yes. Challenging, absolutely. Pleasant? No.”When he began removing his gloves and unbuttoning the fencing jacket Pippa insisted he purchase, she raised a hand to stop him.“Wait. We must do this properly.” She approached and offered him her hand as if they were merely fellow sportsmen rather than siblings. “Politeness is an essential element of fencing.”Seb cleared his throat, infused his baritone with gravitas, and shook his younger sister’s hand. “Well done, Miss Fennick.”She’d tucked her fencing mask under her sword arm and met his gaze with eyes the same unique shade as their father’s. Along with her dark hair and whiskey brown eyes, Pippa had inherited their patriarch’s love for mathematics and sporting activity of every kind.“Fine effort, Your Grace.” And father’s compassion too, apparently.Pippa smiled at him, her disappointment well-hidden or forgotten, and Seb returned the expression. Then her words, the sound of his honorific at the end, settled in his mind. Your Grace. It still sounded odd to his ears.Seb and his sister had been raised for academic pursuits, children of a mathematician father and a mother with as many accomplishments as her daughter now boasted. Formality, titles, rules—none of it came naturally. The title of Duke of Wrexford had passed to him, but it still rankled and itched, as ill-fitting as the imprisoning fencing mask he’d been relieved to remove.As they exited the corner of the second ballroom Pippa had set out as her fencing strip, she turned one of her inquisitive glances on him.“Perhaps you’d prefer boxing, like Grandfather.” Their grandfather had been as well known for his love of pugilism as his architectural designs, and had reputedly been one of Gentleman Jackson’s best pupils.Taller and broader than many of his classmates, Seb had engaged in his own share of scuffles in youth, and he’d been tempted to settle a few gentlemanly disagreements with his fists, but he never enjoyed fighting with his body as much as sparring with his intellect. Reason. Logic. Those were the weapons a man should bring to a dispute.“Unless you’re like Oliver and can’t abide the sight of blood.”It seemed his sister still sparred. Standing on the threshold of Sebastian’s study, Oliver Treadwell lifted his hands, settled them on his hips, and heaved a frustrated sigh.“I did consider medical school, Pip. I can bear the sight of blood better than most.” Ollie’s eyes widened as he scanned the two of them. “What in heaven’s name is that awful getup you two are wearing?”Seb didn’t know if it was his lack of enthusiasm for fencing or Ollie’s jibe about their costumes that set her off, but the shock of seeing Pippa lift her foil, breaking a key point of protocol she’d been quite insistent upon—“Never lift a sword when your opponent is unmasked”—blunted the amusement of watching Ollie rear back like a frightened pony.“Fencing costumes,” she explained through clenched teeth. “I tried instructing Sebastian, though he says the sport doesn’t suit him.” She hadn’t actually touched Ollie with the tip of her foil and quickly lowered it to her side, but the movement failed to ease the tension between them.Turning back to Seb, she forced an even expression. “I’ll go up and change for luncheon.” She offered Ollie a curt nod as she passed him, her wide fencing skirt fluttering around her ankles. At the door, she grasped the frame and turned back. “And don’t call me Pip. No one calls me that anymore.”“Goodness. When did she begin loathing me?” Ollie watched the doorway where Pippa exited as if she might reappear to answer his query. “Women are terribly inscrutable, aren’t they?”Seb thought the entire matter disturbingly clear, but he suspected Pippa would deny her infatuation with Oliver as heatedly as Ollie would argue against the claim. They’d been friends since childhood, and Ollie had been an unofficial member of the Fennick family from the day he’d lost his parents at twelve years old. Seb wasn’t certain when Pippa began viewing Ollie less as a brotherly friend and more as a man worthy of her admiration.As much as he loved him, Seb secretly prayed his sister’s interest in the young buck would wane. Treadwell had never been the steadiest of fellows, particularly when it came to matters of the heart, and Seb would never allow anyone to hurt Pippa.“Welcome to Roxbury.” He practiced the words as he spoke them, hoping the oddness of playing host in another man’s home would eventually diminish.“Thank you. It is grand, is it not? Had you ever visited before?”“Once, as a young child. I expected it to be less imposing when I saw it again as a man.” It hadn’t been. Not a whit. Upon arriving thirty days prior, he’d stood on the threshold a moment with his mouth agape before taking a step inside.Seb caught Ollie staring at the ceiling, an extraordinary web of plastered fan-vaulting meant to echo the design in the nave of an abbey the late duke had visited in Bath. Every aspect of Roxbury had been designed with care, and yet to match the whims of each successive duke and duchess. Somehow its hodgepodge of architectural styles blended into a harmonious and impressive whole.“You mentioned an urgent matter. Trouble in London?” A few years older than his friend, Seb worried about Ollie with the same ever-present paternal concern he felt for his sister.After trying his hand at philosophy, chemistry, and medicine, Ollie had decided to pursue law and currently studied at the Inner Temple with high hopes of being called to the bar and becoming a barrister within the year.“No, all is well, but those words don’t begin to describe my bliss.”Bowing his head, Sebastian closed his eyes a moment and drew in a long breath, expanding his chest as far as the confines of his fencing jacket would allow. It had to be a woman. Another woman. Seb had never known a man as eager to be enamored. Unfortunately, the mysteries of love couldn’t be bound within the elegance of a mathematical equation. If they could, Ollie’s equation would be a simple one. Woman plus beauty equals infatuation. If Ollie’s interest in this woman or that ever bloomed into constancy, Seb could rally a bit happiness for his friend.Constancy. An image of black hair came to mind with a piercing pain above his brow. How could he advocate that Ollie learn constancy when his own stubborn heart brought him nothing but misery?“Tell me about her.”Ollie’s face lit with pleasure. “She’s an angel.”The last had been “a goddess” and Seb mentally calculated where each designation might rank in the heavenly hierarchy.“With golden hair and sapphire eyes …” Ollie’s loves were always described in the same terms one might use when speaking of a precious relic Mr. Petrie had dug up in Egypt, each of them carved in alabaster, gilded, and bejeweled.“Slow down, Ollie. Let’s start with her name.”“Hattie. Harriet, though she says she dislikes Harriet. I think it’s lovely. Isn’t it a beautiful name, really?”Too preoccupied with unbuttoning himself from his fencing gear, Sebastian didn’t bother offering a response. Ollie rarely had any trouble rambling on without acknowledgment.“She’s the daughter of a marquess. Clayborne. Perhaps you know him.”Seb arched both brows and Ollie smiled. “Yes, I know. You’ve only been a duke for the space of a month. Don’t they introduce you to all of the other aristocrats straight away, then?”A chuckle rumbled up in Seb’s chest, and for a moment the burdens that had piled up since the last duke’s passing slipped away. He laughed with Ollie as they had when they were simpler men, younger, less distracted with love or responsibilities. Seb felt lighter, and he held a smile so long his cheeks began to ache before the laughter ebbed and he addressed the serious matter of Oliver’s pursuit of a marquess’s daughter.“I think the better question is whether you’ve met Harriet’s father. What are your intentions toward this young woman?”Ollie ducked his chin and deflated into a chair. “Goodness, Bash, you sound a bit like you’re Hattie’s father.”Only Ollie called him Bash, claiming he’d earned it for defending him in a fight with a particularly truculent classmate. The nickname reminded him of all their shared battles as children, but if Ollie thought its use would soften him or make him retreat, he was wrong. Ollie needed someone to challenge him, to curb his tendency to rush in without considering the consequences. If he lost interest in this young woman as he had with all the others, a breach-of-promise suit brought by a marquess could ruin Ollie’s burgeoning legal career.“I intend to marry her.”“May I ask how long you’ve been acquainted with the young lady?” Mercy, he did sound like a father. As the eldest, he’d always led the way, and with the loss of their parents, Seb had taken on a parental role with his sister too. Pippa might wish to marry one day, and it was his duty to ensure any prospective groom wasn’t a complete and utter reprobate.“Not all of us fall in love with our childhood friend.” The barb had no doubt been meant to bring Seb’s past heartbreak to mind, but Seb thought of Pippa. Thankfully, she hadn’t heard Ollie’s declaration.“Indeed. I would merely advise you to take more time and court Lord Clayborne’s daughter properly. Her father will expect no less.”Even with a properly drawn-out courtship, a marquess would be unlikely to allow his daughter to marry a man who’d yet to become a barrister and may not succeed once he had.“I must offer for her now. Soon. She’s coming out this season, and I couldn’t bear for another man to snatch her up.”“You make her sound like a filly at market.”“Will you come to London and meet her? I know you’ll approve of the match once you’ve met her.”Seb had already given into the necessity of spending the season in London at Wrexford House. Pippa had no interest in anything in London aside from the Reading Room at the British Museum, but their aristocratic aunt, Lady Stamford, insisted he give his sister a proper coming out. She’d also reminded him that a new duke should meet and be met by others in their slice of society.“You hardly need my approval, Ollie.”“I need more than that.”If he meant money, Seb could help. Cousin Geoffrey and his steward maintained the estate well over the years, investing wisely and spending with restraint. Sebastian had met with the estate’s steward once since arriving at Roxbury and emphasized his desire to match his predecessor’s good fiscal sense.“We should discuss a settlement of some kind.”Waving away Seb’s words, Ollie stood and strode to the window, looking out on one of Roxbury’s gardens, perfectly manicured and daubed with color by the first blooms of spring.Oliver Treadwell had never been a hard man to read. Seb knew him to be intelligent, but he used none of his cleverness for artifice. A changeable man, Ollie blew hot and cold with his passions, but he expressed himself honestly. Now Seb sensed something more. Another emotion undercut the giddiness he’d expressed about his most recent heart’s desire.His friend seemed to fall into contemplation of the scenery and Sebastian stood to approach, curious about what had drawn Ollie’s attention. The sound of Ollie’s voice stopped him short, the timbre strangely plaintive, almost childlike.“She says her father won’t allow her to marry until her older sister does. Some strange rule he’s devised to make Harriet miserable.”It sounded like an unreasonable expectation to Sebastian. At two and twenty, Pippa found contentment in pursuing her studies and political causes. She’d indicated no desire to take any man’s name. Never mind the way she looked at Oliver. If they had a younger sister, the girl might have a long wait to wed if some ridiculous rule required Pippa to do so first. Then again, not all women were as reticent to marry as Pippa.“Does this elder sister have any prospects?”Ollie’s whole body jolted at Seb’s question and he turned on him, smile wide, blue eyes glittering.“She has more suitors than she can manage, but she’s not easily snared. I assure you she’s just as beautiful as Hattie, with golden hair …”“Yes, yes. Eyes of emerald or sapphire or amethyst.”Oliver tugged on his ear, a frown marring his enthusiastic expression. “Well, she is lovely. Truly. You should meet her.”A sickening heaviness sank in his gut at the realization of Oliver’s real purpose for their urgent meeting.“You’re very determined to convince me, Oliver.”Ollie sighed wearily, a long gusty exhale, before sinking down into a chair again. “You only call me Oliver when you’re cross. Won’t you hear me out?”Sebastian had a habit of counting. Assigning numbers to the objects and incidents in his life gave him a satisfying sense of order and control. Not quite as much satisfaction as conquering a maddening equation, but enough to make the incidents he couldn’t control—like the small matter of inheriting a title and a home large enough to house a hundred—more bearable.He wished he’d counted how many times he’d heard those same words—“Won’t you hear me out?”—from Ollie. Whatever the number, it would certainly be high enough to warn him off listening to the man’s mad schemes again.“All right, Ollie. Have it out then.”“Do you never consider finding yourself a wife?”“No.”“You must.”“Must I? Why? I have quite enough to occupy me.”Ollie took on a pensive air and squinted his left eye. “The estate seems to be in good order, and you’ve given up your post at the university. Pippa has her own pursuits.” He glanced again at the high ceiling over their heads. “Won’t you be lonely in these grand, empty rooms, Bash?”Sentiment? That was how Ollie meant to convince him? Seb had put away sentimentality ten years before, dividing off that part of himself so that he could move forward with the rest of his life. If its power still held any sway, he would have opened the letter in his waistcoat pocket the day it arrived.“I will manage, Ollie.”And how would a woman solve anything? In Seb’s experience, women either wreaked havoc on a man’s life, or filled it with noise and color and clever quips, like his mother and sister. Either option would allay loneliness, but he did not suffer from that affliction. Sentimental men were lonely. Not him. Even if he did live in a house with ceilings so tall his voice echoed when he chattered to himself.He narrowed his eyes at Ollie, and his friend sat up in his chair, squared his shoulders, and tipped his chin to stare at Seb directly.“She’s the eldest daughter of a marquess, Bash, and much more aware of the rules of etiquette among the wealthy and titled than you are.”“Then we won’t have much in common.”Ollie groaned. “She would be a fine partner, a formidable ally in this new life you’ve taken on.”“No.”Denial came easily, and he denounced Ollie’s mad implication that the two of them should marry sisters from the same family. But reason, that damnable voice in his head that sounded like his father, contradicted him.At two and thirty, he’d reached an age for matrimony, and with inherited property and a title came the duty to produce an heir. No one wanted Roxbury and the Wrexford dukedom to pass to another distant cousin. If he had any doubts about his need for a wife, he was surrounded by women who’d happily remind him. His aunt, Lady Stamford, had sent a letter he’d found waiting for him the day he’d arrived at Roxbury suggesting that marriage was as much his duty as managing the estate. Pippa also dropped hints now and then that having a sister-in-law would be very nice indeed.Ollie had yet to multiply the bride-taking encouragement, but he was making a fine effort at rectifying the oversight.“Acquiring a dukedom is a vast undertaking.” Ollie stretched out his arms wide to emphasize the vastness of it all. “Why not have a lovely woman by your side in such an endeavor?”“I didn’t acquire it, Oliver. It passed to me.” He loathed his habit of stating the obvious.A lovely woman by his side. The notion brought a pang, equal parts stifled desire and memory-soaked dread. He’d imagined it once, making plans and envisioning the life he’d create with the woman he loved. But that was all sentiment and it had been smashed, its pieces left in the past. Now practicality dictated his choices. He spared emotion only for his family, for Pippa and Ollie.Ollie watched him like a convicted man awaiting his sentence.His friend’s practical argument held some appeal. A marquess’s daughter would know how to navigate the social whirl, and Seb liked the notion of not devoting all of his own energy to tackling that challenge. He might even find a moment to spare for mathematics, rather than having to forfeit his life’s work entirely to take on the duties of a dukedom.And it would give Ollie a chance at happiness. Perhaps this younger daughter of Lord Clayborne’s would be the woman to inspire constancy in Ollie, and Seb might assist his friend to achieve the family and stability he’d lost in childhood.Seb spoke on an exhaled sigh. “I suppose I do need a wife.” And there he went stating the obvious again.Oliver turned into a ten-year-old boy before his eyes, as giddy as a pup. If the man had a tail, he’d be wagging it furiously. He jumped up and reached out to clasp Seb on the shoulder.“Just meet Lady Katherine, Seb. See if you suit. That’s all I ask.” It wasn’t quite all he asked, but Seb had learned the futility of quibbling with a giddy Oliver.A marquess’s daughter? Lady Katherine sounded like just the sort of woman a duke should seek to marry. Seb could contemplate marriage as a practical matter, but nothing more.Would he ever feel more?He hadn’t allowed himself an ounce of interest in a woman in ten years, not in a lush feminine figure, nor in a pair of fine eyes, not even in the heady mix of a woman’s unique scent under the notes of some floral essence.“I think you’ll enjoy London during the season.” Ollie couldn’t manage sincerity when uttering the declaration. His mouth quivered and he blinked one eye as if he’d just caught an irritating bit of dust.Seb doubted he’d enjoy London during the crush of the social season. As a Cambridge man raised in a modest home in the university’s shadow, he’d enjoyed occasional jaunts to London but had always been content to return to his studies. As he opened his mouth to say as much to Ollie, Pippa strode into the room and drew their attention to the doorway.She’d changed into one of the day dresses their aunt insisted she choose for the upcoming season, though Pippa signaled her disdain for the flouncy yellow creation by swiping down the ruffles that kept popping up on her chest and around her shoulders.“Luncheon is laid in the morning room. Are you joining us, Oliver?”Ollie stared wide-eyed at Pippa a moment and then turned to Seb.“We’re almost finished here,” Seb assured her. “Ollie and I will join you momentarily.”She nodded but offered the still speechless Ollie a sharp glance before departing.After a moment, Ollie found his voice. “I’ve never seen her so …”“Irritated?”“Feminine.”Seb took a turn glaring at Ollie. The man had just been thrilled at the prospect of a match with Lady Harriet. He had no business noticing Pippa’s femininity, especially after failing to do so for over a dozen years.“She chose a few new dresses.” Seb cleared his throat to draw Ollie’s attention.“It’s odd,” Ollie said, his face still pinched in confusion. “I’ve known Pippa most of my life and never truly thought of her as a woman.”His friend’s words put Seb’s mind at ease, but he suspected Pippa wouldn’t find them nearly as heartening.“Ollie, let’s return to the matter at hand.”“Yes, of course.” Ollie rubbed his hands together and grinned, the matter of Pippa quickly forgotten. “Will you come to the Clayborne ball and meet Lady Katherine?”“I will.” Meeting the woman seemed a simple prospect. Practical. Reasonable. A perfectly logical decision in the circumstances.“If you’re still planning on presenting Pippa this season, by all means, bring her along too,” Ollie added. “Why leave her to ramble this house alone?”Pippa preferred to spend her days at Cambridge where she’d been studying mathematics for much of the previous year. Yet Seb felt the pull of his aunt’s assertion. His sister should have a London season, or at least spend some time among London society. He wished to open as many doors for Pippa as he could. Give her choices and options. If his title meant his sister might be more comfortably settled in life, all the better.“She’s not convinced of the appeal of a London season.” Seb worried neither of them was equipped for it either. Gowns and finely tailored clothing aside, they didn’t possess the aristocratic polish others would expect of a duke and his sister.Ever undaunted, Ollie grinned. “Then you must convince her.”Seb lifted his gaze to the ceiling, following the tracery, lines in perfect symmetry, equidistant and equal in length, forming a perfect whole. The geometric beauty of the design melted a bit of the tension in his shoulders. Still, he doubted the propriety of allowing his sister to attend a ball when she’d not yet formally come out. And, most importantly, he feared Pippa was unprepared for the sort of attention she would encounter in London.Pippa unprepared? She’d fence him into a corner for even entertaining the notion.“Very well. We’ll both attend, but I make no promises regarding Lady Katherine.”He’d accept the invitation in order to give Pippa her first glimpse of a proper London ball, meet this marquess’s daughter, and do what he could to assist Ollie’s cause. But marrying Lady Katherine was another matter entirely. He’d only ever intended to marry one woman and that had gone so spectacularly pear-shaped, he wasn’t certain he could bring himself to propose ever again.

About the Author:
Fueled by Pacific Northwest coffee and inspired by multiple viewings of every British costume drama she can get her hands on, Christy Carlyle writes sensual historical romance set in the Victorian era. She loves heroes who struggle against all odds and heroines who are ahead of their time. A former teacher with a degree in history, she finds there’s nothing better than being able to combine her love of the past with a die-hard belief in happy endings.
Website: http://www.christycarlyle.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/historicalromanceauthorchristycarlyle
Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/writerchristy
Tumblr: http://christycarlyle.tumblr.com/
Blog: http://romancingthevictorians.blogspot.com/
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Top Ten Gifts for PNR Lovers.-Impure Bargains by Decadent Kane

10) Handmade wooden coffin trinkets box:

  9) Handmade Dragon tail earrings


8) Check out their amazon wishlist- don't have their wishlist? Ask them to make one for you.
7) A new costume
6) Gift cards for hometown shops.
5) A set of vampire teeth
4) A set of all PNR movies (Dracula, Interview with a Vampire, etc...)
3) Hand make your own gifts customized just for them...use clay, wood burning, drawing, etc...and your imagination if you're short on funds.
2) A framed picture of their favorite book signed by the author.
1) Gift cards to their favorite bookstores. 
Impure BargainsImpure SeriesBook 1Decadent Kane
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: Ebook edition Dec 1, 2015
ISBN-10: 1514889870ISBN-13: 978-1514889879
Number of pages: 224Word Count: over 50k
Cover Artist: Decadent Kane
Book Description:
Desiderus has served Ba'al faithfully for nearly one hundred years. When Haven Rowe put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger, her fierce nature stirred emotions he hadn't felt since before Ba'al claimed him. With his sight set on consuming her body and soul, he'll use every deceptive idea at his disposal to make sure she belongs to him.
When Haven walked in on a demon stealing her brother, Jeremy, her entire world unraveled. Born to a family of magic users, yet unable to use magic of her own, Haven will do anything to get her brother back from the depths of hell, even if it means she has to bargain her soul.
With the help of a witch, Haven seeks out loopholes to the soul bargains that have been made. She either finds a way out for her and Jeremy, or they both might be lost forever. What she doesn't count on is the betrayal of her own body and the insurmountable attraction she has for the demon she's trying to escape.
Available in Kindle and Paperback
Excerpt: Surprised by the female's actions, Desiderus watched her run for a moment before his mind registered her actions. Her obsidian hair flew behind her with a strange bag slung over her small shoulders. In a way, he should have known Haven would bolt. Experience all but told him that. Many had run and failed. Desiderus shook his head and a grin spread across his lips. She wouldn't get far and not just because she was naked. He had a pretty good idea that Haven didn't worry about her loss of clothes as much as she worried about what he might do to her. He would have loved nothing more than to chase after her...but she needed to be taught a lesson, to understand what it meant for him to have her name, for him to be in control.After quickly making Ba'al's sign in the air in front of him, a toad with a circle, magic flickered into the sigil like sparking a match. The sign brightened to an orange color. Desiderus had been a demon so long it took seconds to create. Under his breath, he let her name roll off his tongue in one easy motion, "Haven Rowe." The color of the sigil sprinkled away on a breeze and black smoke swirled. Haven's image slowly began to appear, little by little, tantalizing, as if she somehow knew he wanted her body, far more than he had any other mortal female. Her legs came first, the lazy curve of her hips, he groaned with the swell of her heaving breasts, and finally her face construed in a perfect scowl piercing him with those damn blue eyes."Running will do you no good, Haven." Inside lust coiled around his core, urging him to do anything but stand there looking staring. Her skin shimmering with sweat, making his tongue slip out to lick his lips. He swallowed a groan at the thought of tasting her tanned flesh. Lost in his erotic notions he didn't see her foot until it was too late and a sharp jolt of lightning like pain raced up from between his legs, shooting over his spine and slamming into the base of his brain. Colors formed in his eyes and he blinked it away as his stomach churned. His knees weakened, but he kept himself standing somehow, adrenaline replacing the pain as anger mounted inside him like a lion.
"But that does demon." Haven turned to run for the second time and despite the throbbing radiating from his balls, Desiderus reached out for her, latching fingers around an ankle that had come up from the ground and Haven fell front first into the dirt with Desiderus falling on top of her.
About the Author:
Decadent Kane, author of the trouble with elves series, writes paranormal romance with heat. She lives in Wyoming with a full house: 3 dogs, 1 cat, 1 guinea pig, 1 rat, 2 kids, and 1 fiance.
An elfess in human form, Decadent enjoys dipping her fingers into the human realm where she took pen to paper and began the tales of the trouble with elves. Her obsessions include reading, Dean Winchester, and honey.
She will devour your soul with glimpses of the feral ridden drow elves, with their dark skin and soul consuming. She'll sneak morsels of naughty thoughts to you via goblins, and seduce you into stepping inside the elven realm where females disappear when lust takes over among other elfish troubles.
Beware the sprites.
Follow the wisps.
But never look a drow elf king in the eyes...
Amazon Author:  www.amazon.com/author/decadentkane
Authorgraph: https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/DecadentKane
FB : www.facebook.com/DecadentKane
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DecadentKane
Blog: http://decadentkane.blogspot.com/      
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/DecadentKane
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/FDtsL
Street Team: https://www.facebook.com/groups/746945411992459/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

When She Comes Undone by Vanessa Gray

When She Comes Undone by Vanessa GraySeriesn/a; standaloneGenreErotic RomancePublisherIndependentPublication DateNovember 30, 2015
Chloe Dawson learned early that life wasn’t easy. If it were, her parents never would have split up, leaving her to deal with the fallout at eight years old. If it were, her mother’s vice wouldn’t have driven a wedge between them. Though she comes to face trials most people only confront in their nightmares, she realizes she can’t wake up from her life. Instead, she looks her problems in the eye, afraid yet standing her ground.
But even the strongest need rescuing …
Just when she feels her head dipping below the surface, Caleb Holt appears in her life. Unlike Chloe, he’s run far from his past, into the arms of an uncertain future. At the request of a dying man, he decides to stop running and fulfill a promise—one which forbids him from interacting with Chloe and forces him to remain her secret benefactor.
Keeping out of sight, he watches with his eyes, but soon discovers that his heart has been just as vigilant. Aggressive is his middle name, but his bond keeps him silent at a distance. When she needs help, he reaches out of hiding to touch her life, only to step back before she can see him.
However opportunity presents itself, and he finds he can’t resist answering its call. What will happen when the barrier between them drops and he’s finally allowed to touch where once he could only look?
What will happen when Chloe accepts an offer that no one in her desperate position would refuse, even when it pushes her boundaries?
What will happen when she comes undone?

About Vanessa GrayVanessa "Nessa" Gray is a writer living in the wilderness of Montana. At heart she's a southern girl, having been born and raised in South Carolina (GO TIGERS!). She enjoys sports, drinking copious amounts of coffee and wine, as well as consorting with other sophisticated ladies that say fuck a lot. She's most likely to be found sitting around in yoga pants with a pencil behind her ear, chewing her fingernails as she sorts out her next book, cries over book boyfriends, and generally loses her mind. She is new to the writing game but can't wait to get involved in the indie community.
She loves to hear from her readers and fellow authors alike. Got tips, questions, hate mail or gifts? Feel free to send her an email at authorvanessagray@gmail.com.Author Links  
This release day blitz was brought to you by Pure Textuality PR partnered with Bewitching Book Tours!

Jesse's Super Sassy Mix Playlist for Dying Light by Kory M. Shrum

Dying LightJesse SullivanBook FourKory M. Shrum
Genre: Contemporary/Urban/Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Timberlane Press
Date of Publication:  November 2nd
ISBN: 0-9912158-9-3ASIN: B014GMBV28
Number of pages: 220 Kindle/ebookNumber of pages:  465 paperbackWord Count: 79,000
Cover Artist: John K. Addis
Book Description:
In the wake of her handler’s death, Jesse has never felt more alone. Her best friend is distracted by a new love. Her mentor Rachel is missing and her boyfriend Lane isn’t returning her calls.
Worse, a Necronite with the ability to heal any wound wants to kill Jesse and absorb her power of pyrokinesis.
With little to hold her to Nashville, Jesse agrees to work as a freelance agent for Jeremiah Tate, a pharmaceutical tycoon in Chicago. Together they plot revenge against Caldwell, the mastermind responsible for the genocide of over 100,000 Necronites worldwide.
When Jeremiah fails to dominate Jesse and her pyrokinesis, tensions escalate, dividing her from her allies.
Then Caldwell gives Jesse an ultimatum she cannot refuse.
Amazon

Excerpt:Chapter 1 “Come on,” I wail. “Jumping out of a burning building is not the craziest thing we’ve ever done!”“If you hadn’t panicked, the building wouldn’t be on fire,” Ally snaps back. She tucks the bundled laptop under her arm and starts yanking open desk drawers. Post-it notes of every color fly through the air, followed by pens, a stapler, paperclips and a Kleenex box.I search the open office space for another door. Nada. Only one way in and out.“I had to do something.” I thought firebombing the bad guy was my one good idea on this mission to retrieve a laptop for Jeremiah. “If I hadn’t, we’d still be stuck with him.”We both turn our gaze to the locked door twenty feet away. A row of unoccupied desks rests between us and where we entered. The office is spacious, with rows of silver tabletops running the length of the room. Spacious—but not spacious enough with a homicidal maniac just on the other side of the door.Something large slams into the locked office door, rattling the walls. Ominous black smoke seeps through the cracks and the smell of campfire wafts in. That smell is surely going to cling to my hair until I wash it.“Just because we’ve been reckless before doesn’t excuse it now.” Ally slams a desk drawer shut and yanks another open. Her disheveled blonde hair hides most of her face, revealing only terrified eyes. She gives up trying to find a weapon in the desk drawer and hurries to the window. Her gaze falls on the street below. “God, Jesse. No. We’ll never survive a fall from this height.”I shrug and pucker my lips. “It’s fine. I’ve fallen from higher. We’ll be fine.”She blinks at me.“You’re forgetting about my shield thingy.” I’m talking out of my ass here, but there is no way I’m letting him come in here and hurt her. He can trade punches with me all day if he wants, but not with Ally. I’ll have to find a way to break the window, jump out, and shield her on the way down.The door shakes for the fourth time and a thick crack appears to the left of the jamb. A thicker plume of black smoke rolls through the crack and floats to the ceiling. The white popcorn tiles disappear beneath the black fog. I go to the window and look through the glass beside her. The glass is cold under my palms and my breath fogs on the surface despite the growing heat of the room. Down below, tiny cars cut corners around buildings. One could easily be mistaken for a child’s toy.Shit, it really is far down.I meet Ally’s eyes and shrug. “We don’t have a lot of options.” Sweat forms at my hairline and in the folds where my coat sits snug against my body. Chicago shines brightly around us, each pinpoint of light from the buildings and streets illuminating the dark sky. My gaze flits from building to building, from illuminated window to illuminated window, but I don’t see salvation. We aren’t close enough to another skyscraper to signal for help. No scaffolding or window-washer platform is available to carry us to the safety of solid ground or to the roof above, where we were supposed to meet Jeremiah.The coms in our ears buzz incoherently for the billionth time. Ally sighs in irritation. As the coms stop crackling she mashes the speak button flat with her thumb. “For the thousandth time, we can’t understand you. Something is wrong with our signal. If you can hear us, we are on the 34th floor of the Jensen building and we’re trapped. Send help.” A look of resolution solidifies on Ally’s face. “Jason’s going to kill us.”“No.” I squeeze her arm. “So what if he’s like a hell-bent terminator with unlimited healing ability.” I snort, trying to hide my panic. “I’ve got this.”She cocks her head. “It’s great you have firebombs and shields but we have to be careful. We don’t know the repercussions of your powers yet.”“And getting ourselves locked in burning buildings with raging madmen is playing it so safe.”“You know what I mean.” She steps away from the window and shifts the laptop in her arms. She yanks open more office drawers.I arch an eyebrow. “A paper cut isn’t going to hurt him.”“Paper cuts hurt.” She forces a smile. “But we need something to slow him down. And you’re not helping.”I throw my hands up and pick an aisle of desks. After uselessly searching two drawers, I lift one of the office chairs and immediately know this flimsy, ergonomic piece of crap won’t be able to break a window. I throw it anyway. It bounces off the glass and comes back at me with a vengeance, clipping my knee.“Fuckity fuck! Ow. Ow.”Ally looks up from the drawer and scowls at me. “Injuring yourself before he even breaks into the room is not what I had in mind.”I give her a hard stare, rubbing my throbbing knee and stumbling to another desk. I have half a mind to remind her that it wasn’t my idea to come to Chicago. I was happy in Nashville. Sure, my boyfriend Lane—ex-boyfriend—wasn’t talking to me, but everything else was okay. The first time Jason, the insta-healing terminator tried to rip my head off, Ally had a fit. Jeremiah capitalized on it, of course.Come to Chicago where it’s safer. We have more people and more power there. And Caldwell is up to something in the city. We could really use the extra hands.I just wanted to stay in bed and mourn Brinkley, the man who’d given his life trying to kill Caldwell. Everyone else keeps acting like I’m supposed to be working here.The crack in the door widens and I see an angry eye fix on me. Jason screams as if the very sight of me enrages him.Gabriel appears at a desk two rows up from the one I’m searching. He flickers in and out, unable to hold his form with another partis—a weirdo with powers like me—nearby. He’s crystal clear when I’m alone, but when there’s two or more partis, I’m lucky if Gabriel can materialize at all. This is real inconvenient given that I need him most when the others show up looking for a fight.“Here.” Gabriel points at a giant rock sitting on top of one of the desks. “Use this.”No, not a rock, I realize. I place my hands on the massive stone. It’s an amethyst the size of a grapefruit. Beside it sits a little note: Don’t touch me. Please. You’ll change my energy.I look up, but Gabriel’s gone.I lift the rock off the desktop. It sinks into my palms like dead weight, the purple spikes poking my flesh. “Sorry, but I need your energy to club this fucker.”I meet eyes with Jason again as he inches his fingers through the crack and starts swiping at the locking mechanism we latched behind us.“Get over here,” I shout to Ally. Ally makes it halfway across the room before the door explodes. Splinters the size of my leg fly at my face. I duck behind the desk, clutching the gigantic stone to my chest.I peek over the tabletop and see Jason standing in the flames. His body smolders. His blistered arm melts from burnt to scabby to pink. He spots me behind the desk and we lock eyes. His face twists into a murderous grin.“Stop hiding,” he calls out. “Let’s do this.”In my peripheral vision, Ally darts to another desk, staying low.Jason takes a step toward me. “Just think, this power could be yours if you’d challenge me already.” “Fighting is such a commitment.” I stand slowly, but keep the desk between us. I’m hoping it buys me time if he does anything crazy like lunge for my throat. “You have to get close. You have to touch people. Sometimes, like you, they smell. No, thank you.”Jason’s face goes perfectly smooth. Was it something I said?A flash of black wings catches my eye. Gabriel’s still here, even if he can’t materialize. The scent of rain overtakes me as Gabriel dials up my power. My muscles contract and my body warms. My skin starts to itch around the collar of my shirt and across my belly. I feel like I have to pee. I try not to squirm. “You know who else is in the city? Caldwell. Why don’t you kill him instead?”Jason’s face twists up in fury again. “After I’m finished with you.”“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I would put my hands on my hip if not for the giant amethyst. “Don’t you think I’m a badass?”“You’re smaller.”My temper flares. “You’re trying to kill me because I’m short?”Ally coughs on the smoke filling the room and I jerk my head toward the sound. Jason doesn’t hesitate. “Jesse!” Gabriel’s voice booms in my head.My soul rips open, power exploding from my center in all directions. It’s like someone is yanking my intestines out of my belly button. I’m so overwhelmed but I can’t stop the power from flooding out of me or even slow it down. Fire and smoke whoosh away from me as if blown by a great wind. The air around me shimmers like pavement on a hot day. Blue flames roll over the surface of my body, suspended about three inches above my skin before erupting outward toward Jason, the office around us and anything else in its path. The only object that is safe is the amethyst cradled in my hands.The walls and ceiling shudder under the force of my firebomb, raining dust and plaster down on our heads. One minute the windows shatter, and glass spills out into the night air. The next minute cold winter air is sucked into the room. I open my eyes and find Jason sprawled on the floor, unconscious. My power blast knocked him out, burned his skin, but didn’t kill him. Damn. I come around the desk, or what is left of it, and peer closer. His flesh is already healing.I try to use my breath to slow my heart rate. I need to calm down, but my head is throbbing.“Ally?”No answer.“Ally!”“Here.” She pulls herself to standing in the middle of a cluster of desks that had obviously been pushed together in the blast. She shakes glass out of her hair and checks the laptop in her arms for damage. “Kill him,” Gabriel says in my ear. The weight of the amethyst doubles in my hands. “Kill him.”The idea of killing Jason and taking his healing powers appeals to me. Instead of having to die in order to heal myself, I could simply stay alive, and after a few breaths, be as good as new again. Wasn’t that a hell of a prospect? Less pain. Less wasted time. Less danger for myself and the people around me.I lift the amethyst, my eyes fixed on his skull.“Jesse.”I lift the rock a little higher as a strange calm washes over me. No, more than calm. Peace tinged with excitement. Oh god, I want to kill him. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kill anyone.“Jesse.”Ally’s face appears in front of mine. Eye to eye, she blocks my view of Jason. “Baby.” She’s whispering. “We need to get out of here.”Her voice. Something about Ally’s voice seeps into my mind and untangles my thoughts. The cold hand inside me, the one delighting at the idea of peeling Jason open and stealing his ability to heal, grows warm. Its hold on me slackens as her brown eyes come into focus. I can’t murder someone in front of Ally. What the hell am I thinking?My muscles relax and I let the amethyst slip from my fingers to the floor.“Come on.” Ally squeezes my shoulders. “Maybe we can crawl down the hall a little bit and find the stairs.”“No we can’t go that way—” I don’t finish my thought. The smallest movement steals my attention and I turn just as Jason snatches up the amethyst and throws it at Ally.“No!” I scream as the rock sails through the air. “Gabriel!”My shield goes up around Ally. The shimmery purple light envelops her from head to toe. The rock ricochets off the force field, shoots through the broken window and out into the night. Jason screams and runs at me, head down as if he might tackle me like some football player. “Fuck this.” I sidestep Jason and grab hold of Ally. Her shield falters just long enough for me to wrap her in my arms and yank her forward. Before she can process what is about to happen, I shove her out the big window and don’t let go.Her shriek is muffled by the wind whipping around us, tearing at our hair and clothes.I suppose this is a perfectly natural reaction to your friend shoving you out of a high-rise building. “It’s okay.” I squeeze her against my chest. “The shield will hold.”“Right?” I ask Gabriel. “What about you? What about you?” Ally screams.“You will not survive the fall.” He plummets with us, his wings folding back to embrace the drop. “You must shield yourself.”“Ally lives, not me. We have a deal.”“You must shield yourself also.”“I don’t know how. You have to help me.”“Envision it.” Gabriel’s wings open, lifting him up into the air. “See it grow larger.”The field shines about an inch or so above Ally’s skin, it touches parts of me, but it sure as hell doesn’t cover anything important.“Hurry,” Gabriel says. “See it around you.”I close my eyes and see us falling in my head. The building rushes past us. The freezing air tears at our clothes and hair relentlessly. Lights shine from windows in a blur as we pass. I picture my shield bigger. I picture it around me and Ally, covering us both from head to toe.“Good. Do not stop now,” Gabriel says.
I peek my eyes open to see purple has crept over my arms and shoulder, the shield half devouring my body—until pain erupts through my legs, my back, and the whole world goes black.
About the Author:
Kory M. Shrum lives in Michigan with her partner and a ferocious guard pug. She has dabbled in everything from fortune telling to martial arts and when not reading or writing, she can be found teaching, traveling, or wearing a gi. She is the author of four books in the Jesse Sullivan contemporary fantasy series. She is also an active member of both SFWA and HWA.
www.korymshrum.com
www.korymshrum.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/koryshrum
www.facebook.com/korymshrum

a Rafflecopter giveaway

When My Work and Works of Fiction Collide

When My Work and Works of Fiction Collide

A while back, I had a discussion going on Twitter about my work in ministry colliding with my works of fiction. I thought it would pass, but since that time, it seems to be happening more than ever. Personally, I think it's good that people have questions after they read my books. After all, that is one of the reason I decided to publish at all. I enjoy talking with people who want to separate fact from fiction.

For a number of years I have worked in ministry, but I write works of fiction about angels, demons, and various other supernatural subjects. There were bound to be some questions. I have had some of the most interesting conversations with people who read one or all of my books and then come out with questions guns blazing. However, the reality is: part of the reason I write fiction is to have the freedom to talk about things I am unable to explain. I mean, that is the beauty of writing, right? I get the chance to bring a story to life, explain the unexplained, and create a world that is different from our own.
I am often asked, "Do you believe in angels and demons?" The simple answer is: yes, I do. Do I believe that they fight each other? Of course, I do. Even so, do I believe they act, talk, and function in the way I describe in my books? Do they do battle with golden weapons, traveling at speeds faster than the human eye can see, leaving nothing but fire, dust, and ash behind? Well, this is the area where fiction comes in. Maybe they do; maybe they don’t. I honestly don’t know. This is why I love writing. I get the chance to take something I believe in and create a story around it.
I will admit I have seen a lot of crazy things over the years that could not be easily explained away. I have seen the miraculous occur more than once. I have also witnessed things that I thought could only exist in a horror movie. Some of these experiences – particularly the more horrific ones – I wish I could simply explain away and never think about again. Writing provides an outlet for me to work through all these crazy things. I suppose I could write non-fiction, but where is the fun in that?
At the end of the day, my books are meant to entertain. The idea that they are creating dialogue with people I wouldn't normally interact with is an added bonus. I'm enjoying these conversations, so please keep the questions coming. I'm glad people are enjoying my books so much that they want to know more. Thank you for having me!


Beyond Anything In All CreationBeyond Height and Depths TrilogyBook ThreeChristian Brown
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Young Adult
Publisher: C. Brown Publisher
Date of Publication: January 13, 2015
ASIN: B00P4P2ML6
Number of pages: 180Word Count: 55, 502
Book Description:
She’s anxious, but she might also be right. I do hope it’s not the end of the world. What do I know about this kind of stuff? I’m not sure what else to think. The world hasn’t exactly been in the best shape recently.
The long extinct volcanoes of our island home, as well as other parts of the world, still show signs of erupting at any moment. Earthquakes are a daily occurrence. The sun has almost completely vanished, leaving the world in a state of constant twilight. Fire has been falling from the sky off and on here for the last few weeks; meanwhile, other parts of the world seem to be in the middle of a miniature ice age, and the bodies of water that aren’t frozen have steam rising from their surface.
I would hardly call any of this normal.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The highly anticipated conclusion to the Beyond Heights and Depths trilogy is finally here.
Emmett and Ash are preparing for their big day. The two have overcome the greatest of evils to remain together. Together, they have won every battle, but the war is far from over. All signs point to the end of the world. The soul mates must face their toughest challenges yet. Relationships will be tested, sacrifices will be made, and a fight to the finish will decide the fate of the world.

Available at AmazonExcerpt:
          This movie isn’t so bad. In fact, I can’t help thinking how real these scenes look. The special effects are spectacular. I feel like I am in the movie. I feel like I am walking along a dark trail. There’s no moon, which makes it incredibly difficult to see. Shadow figures begin to stalk from side-to-side. A gang of dark figures emerges out of the darkness. I can’t tell how many there are. Dozens of pairs of demonic red eyes suddenly open and stare at me. I seem to have walked into some sort of trap.Oh no, this isn’t part of the movie, I realize too late. The swarm of shadow creatures rushes toward me. I try to turn and run, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed with fear. What is happening to me? Wait, this must be a dream. I just need to wake up. The feeling of paralysis increases my anxiety. The more I struggle, the harder it is to move. You’re alright, I hear Ash’s voice say in my head.Whew, thank goodness; I thought I was going crazy. Ash is on a run. I must have fallen asleep during the movie, so I am seeing this play out through her eyes. In the vision, I see that Ash is laughing, but I can’t hear her laughing. I take that as my cue to check out. Everything goes black for a moment, and then I open my eyes.I’m looking at the ceiling of my house. I notice I am sweating profusely. I may not be in the middle of the fight, but the feeling of fear is completely real. I try to shake it off. In the safety of my home I have nothing to worry about, I try to remind myself. Yet, I can’t seem to shake the feeling of someone watching me. I’m afraid to sit up. This is ridiculous. You’ve fought demons of all sorts, died a few times, and have always come out on top. Surely you can deal with your childhood fears of the boogeyman.I slowly sit up on the couch. The television isn’t even on. I wonder when I fell asleep. I hope it wasn’t during the movie. I try to rub the sleepiness out of my eyes. When I open them again, I am startled to see the image of a dark figure standing ominously behind me. I jump up from my seat, turn, and instinctively throw the first thing within reach at the figure, which happens to be a box of sour gummy candies.


About the Author:
Christian Brown has been working with youth and young adults for most of the last 10 years. His passion is in helping others. He is also an anti-bullying advocate. He is the author of the Beyond Heights and Depths Trilogy and has other projects in the works. He currently lives in Honolulu, Hawaii with his wife and two young sons.
Blog - http://kahuchristian.blogspot.com/
Twitter - https://twitter.com/CBrownHI
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6936244.Christian_Brown

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Mythical Books (Guest Post )http://www.mythicalbooks.blogspot.ro/
Fang-tastic Books (Guest Blog)www.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com
Sapphyria's Book Reviewshttp://saphsbookblog.blogspot.com/
Sharon Buchbinderhttp://sharonbuchbinder.blogspot.com
Ogitchida Kwe's Book Bloghttp://ogitchidabookblog.blogspot.com
Roxanne’s Realm (Guest Blog)www.roxannerhoads.com
happy tails and taleshttp://happytailsandtales.blogspot.com
Zenny's Awesome Book Reviewshttps://zennysawesomebookreviews.wordpress.com/
The Cubicle Escapeewww.TheCubicleEscapee.com
Paranormal Tendencieshttp://www.paranormaltendencies.blogspot.com
Ali - The Dragon Slayer - Blogger/Book Reviewerwww.alithedragonslayer.co.uk
Penny Writeshttp://pennybrojacquie.blogspot.gr/
The Creatively Green Write at Home Momwww.creativelygreen.blogspot.com
Lisa’s World of Bookswww.lisasworldofbooks.net
Teatime and Bookshttp://www.teatimeandbooks76.blogspot.com/ 
Deal Sharing Aunt www.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com
A Bookaholic’s Fix: Feeding the Addictionhttp://Bookaholicfix.wordpress.com
3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, and Sissy, Too!http://3partnersinshopping.blogspot.com/
feedmeinbookswww.feedmeinbooks.wordpress.com
Cutting Muse Blog Review http://www.cuttingmuse.blogspot.com/
CBY Book Clubhttp://cbybookclub.blogspot.co.uk
Around the World in Books  http://www.aroundtheworldinbooks.ca/

Wildfire by J.D. Wright

WildfireEverealm SeriesBook TwoJ.D. Wright
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: 9-1-15
ISBN: 978-1517257408ASIN: B0137Y7XVO
Number of pages: 270Word Count: 84,000
Cover Artist: J.D. Wright
Book Description:
The journey through Everealm continues as new evil arrives, casting mayhem about the realm. While war and wildfire are causing disorder, Bree and Rowan find that assistance from the fairies isn't what they imagined. As Dagan and Sidonie seek answers to uncover the truth about her family and her magic, they are plagued with even more mystery to unveil. As the wildfire burns, who will be left standing in the ashes?
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/AoSiJJH9zeo
Amazon    Barnes and Noble


Book 1 Everealm Free for Kindle November 23-27

Excerpt: Isabelle took another sip and sat her goblet down, looking around at her children. Xavier looked miserable and tired. Tristan appeared bored and Rianne seemed ready to flee at any moment. Seeing no better time to share her news, she cleared her throat.“It has been several weeks since we’ve all shared an early meal together,” she said. “And I know that you have much more important matters to attend to so I will not keep you long.”“We’re here for as long as you’d like, Mother,” Tristan said, earning a sharp glare from his brother across the table.“Actually, the seamstress is on her way here to fit me for a new gown,” Rianne said, hoping it may excuse her. However, her mother paid her no mind.“I have some news to share with you and wanted to do it in private. I would prefer your father be here, but I suspect this time is as good as any.” The queen paused for a moment to make sure that she had their attention. Then she turned to her daughter and continued.“Rianne, your father has received a proposal for your hand in marriage from King Carneath.”“King Carneath?” Rianne asked. “Yes.”“I don’t understand. I didn’t think King Carneath had a son.”“He doesn’t,” Tristan said, frowning. He realized immediately what his sister had yet to understand.“Then, who am I supposed to ma—” She stopped, finally grasping what her mother was trying to say. “You mean him, the king? Don’t you?”“I do,” her mother replied.“But Carneath is over twice my age! Father would never consider such a proposal.” Rianne was sure of it.“He is considering it.”“That simply cannot be true! What does he want with a new wife anyway? His first wife had given him several daughters before she died. Right?”“Three of them,” Tristan added.“Precisely!” Rianne shouted. “Why would he need to remarry?” “I suppose he wants a son. Or perhaps he is lonely. It is also possible that he wants a mother for his children. Honestly, that is something I cannot answer,” Isabelle said, keeping calm.“Mother to his children? I am only a few years older than those children, myself!”“I find it hard to believe that Father would consider this proposal, as well,” Tristan said. “What could we possibly gain from the arrangement?”“I have yet to be informed of the details, but I gather it involves acreage of Carneath land to the north, to expand our orchards.”“Orchards? Is that all my future is worth? A few acres of land to plant more trees? We already have more trees than people in this wretched place.”“Rianne,” her mother warned. “Your tone is unwelcome at my table.”“My tone? What about my happiness? Is that unwelcome, too?” Unable to control her emotions, Rianne stood and excused herself. She turned away from her mother and walked, quickly, back into the castle. She had made it all the way to her room before Tristan caught up with her. He found her curled up on the window seat, crying.“Go away!” “I know it may not seem like it right now, but everything will be alright.”“Is that supposed to comfort her?” Xavier said, entering the room and closing the door behind him.“What am I supposed to say?” Tristan said, standing beside the bedpost. “If Father approves the proposal, there is nothing anyone can do about it.”Xavier shook his head at his brother and sat beside Rianne, who crawled over to cry on his arm.“It isn’t fair. Tristan is to marry a princess who is young and beautiful. The same age as I am, even. And I have to marry an old man!”“For all we know, Tristan’s princess may be ugly,” Xavier teased. “With a pig nose and warts all over. Hell, he hasn’t seen her since she was a baby. She could be a real hag of a lady.”Rianne sat up, chuckling. Her light brown hair that had been pinned atop her head was now falling down and her perfect porcelain skin was blotchy from crying.“I probably won’t even get to see her if I am married before their wedding,” Rianne frowned. “This entire idea is ridiculous! There are plenty of eligible women in the realm. Junacave, Moorine, Veyace. Why doesn’t he marry one of them? Why me?”“The Princess of Junacave just became the queen, so she is no longer a prospect, I suspect,” Tristan said. “Moorine is on the other side of the Valerian Mountains, so Carneath land would be of no use to them. And the daughters in Veyace are still quite young.”He looked up to see his brother and sister scowling at him.“Constantly, the deliverer of unhelpful thoughts,” Xavier mumbled.




About the Author:
Writing has always been a hobby of mine, beginning as a young child. It was a way to cope with losing my father at seven years of age. I started with poetry and was featured several times on the amazing poetry blog, Autumn Leaves, by Sondra Ball. My love for poetry soon led to writing songs in middle school and beyond, which I still do occasionally. Music has always been an important part of my existence, so writing songs came naturally to me. In high school, I started my own novel, however, life got in the way and I never finished it.
Fast forward many years later and I find myself married with four children, absorbed in my busy life with commitments to my family, work, school, church, and charities, among other things. One day I came across my old binder, with notes from my first novel, and it was with those notes that I conjured up the elusive Everealm.
I write to please readers such as myself, who have a love for fantasy and romance, but like a little danger and sex in their reading. I wrote the book with a mature audience in mind, who can appreciate a hearty imaginary world with magic and the unknown, but want more than fluffy love stories with wizards in them. They want the romance, magic, and danger, all wrapped into one.
Blog: www.everealmseries.blogspot.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9327703.J_D_Wright
Facebook: www.facebook.com/everealm
Twitter: www.twitter.com/everealmbyjdw

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Love Nightmare Before Christmas?

 Do you love The Nightmare Before Christmas?
My daughter does, so much so that her Sweet Sixteen Birthday Party earlier this year had a TNMBC theme. We have so much stuff pinned to our Pinterest board.
We made most of the decorations and giveaway items and my friend made the cutest Jack cupcakes.

We had these cute goth trees t use as centerpieces
and I bought Ari a set of Jack Ornaments to hang on them
and they'll be used later on the Christmas tree





Cupcake stand my husband and I made.
I designed and painted, he cut it out of wood.

keychains I made for the goodie bags


adorable Jack cupcakes by Ilona Curry




Goodies bags filled with Nightmare Themed Items

For the goodie bags I printed out Jack head stickers and put them on the tiny gift bags.

Not really Nightmare Themed but we also had a S'mores bar at the party

My husband made a long box we filled with river rock and use sternos for the flames

We provided 3 types of marshamallows, 3 types of graham crackers, and a variety of chocolates, it was a hit. We had to send someone out to get more chocolate before the night was over.









Pinterest Board for Nightmare Before Christmas
Follow Roxanne's board Nightmare Before Christmas Sweet Sixteen Inspiration on Pinterest.

Kindle Freebie November 27-28 Bewitching Brews and Devilish Desserts

Bewitching Brews and Devilish Desserts 
A Collection of Cocktail and Dessert Recipes
Edited by Roxanne Rhoads

Paperback: 50 pages

Publisher: Bewitching Books

ISBN-10: 1502947013

ISBN-13: 978-1502947017
ASIN: B00PE0BNES

Book Description:

Stir up a little magic from our cauldron full of cocktails and desserts. 

The authors of Bewitching Book Tours conjured a collection of delicious potions inspired by their books and characters. 

Grab your wand (or spoon) and cast one of these spellbinding recipes today.

Available at Amazon

Includes recipes by Sharon Baylis , Ami Blackwelder , Cassandra Lawson , Susannah Sandlin, Cherrie Mack , Maggie Mundy , Suzanne Johnson , Katalina Leon , Kay Dee Royal ,
 Sophie Avett , Elizabeth Loraine , G.L. Ross  , T.W. Kirchner ,  Roxanne Rhoads  

The Portrayal of Evil with Christian A. Brown

A while ago, I had a lovely blogger review that praised many aspects of Feast of Fates. On that list—and what stuck with me the most—were the reader’s commendations toward some of the darker material in my book. Life is composed of many shades and colors: passionate reds, golden acts of kindness, and the blackest evils. I believe that stories of the scope I wish to tell should encompass that spectrum. Therefore, while I write some beautiful scenes, I also feel the need to balance the scales, to flesh out a realistic environment by adding the unsavory. Neglect, depravity, racism, murder, physical and sexual assault. None of these topics are comfortable to discuss. None of these topics should be handled with anything but care. I deal with each of them in my work. I choose to depict them in the raw, ugly fashion in which they are experienced by their survivors (not victims—there is a notable distinction). As a survivor of assault myself, I see no other way in which these events should be portrayed. As horrific as one imagines—or writes—these scenarios, I assure you the reality is worse. More crippling, more haunting, and usually more violent.
I don’t write dark things because I am a lover of the macabre or a sadist. In fact, often writing these scenes makes me feel as repulsed as when my readers read such material. Good. If whenever Brutus comes onto the page, your skin crawls and you are terrified of what deplorable act he will do, then I’ve done my job. Evil should not have a soft-touch (unless it’s the insidious kind). Evil should make you shiver. How soon we forget in our comfortable North American lives that we live in the same world where Malala was shot for going to school. Where the Montreal Massacre of women seeking to better themselves happened. Where we have genocides and child soldiers. I wish that the events that I write were less dark than those occurring outside Geadhain. Though, they’re not. I feel it is necessary for evil to be accurately described in order to illustrate the journey one (character) takes toward healing.

A Feast of Fates case study, if you will. Please stop reading if you’re spoiler averse and haven’t read the first book yet. (And hurry up! The second book is out now!) In Feast of Fates, we meet any number of characters who have endured trauma. Mouse, who is sold into sexual slavery. She breaks this fate at the cost of her humanity—which she later regains and then some. Macha, who is a displaced indigenous girl that also suffers a reprehensible separation from her family. Kanatuk, another indigenous person who endures a lifetime of horrific abuse—he, too, eventually finds his humanity and strength. Vortigern, who loses his family, his memory, and lives in a state of living-death and forgetfulness. The list goes on. I do not discriminate between male and female, between who should be “fairly” suffering and who shouldn’t. That’s the nasty part about life: it doesn’t give two shits who suffers or why. I’m a sensitive person, and it hurts to write these horrible fates for my characters. However, like the reader and like those of us in the real world, I hold to the hope that these people will learn from their lessons of pain. I believe in them. I believe that they have the power to heal themselves, and to remember the good of humanity. Most of the time, my characters do not disappoint me.

In what is a less easily perceived emotional struggle, we have Lila. She is Queen of Eod and living a glorious and seemingly immortal life with the Everfair King. Long ago, Magnus saved her from a misogynistic, caste-driven society (and marriage). And for a thousand years thereafter she and Magnus were happy together, blissfully happy. That happiness lasts until a horrific—and again, this incident has to be ghastly to sunder a bond of one thousand years—assault by her husband while he is under the possession of an entropic force. A number of complex issues and questions stem from this event. How responsible is Magnus? Can Lila forgive him for this one grotesque incident in their thousand year marriage? He certainly feels guilty. Lila, at the time, puts on a brave face and forgives him. After all, she is the stoic queen of a nation of hundreds of thousands, and her country must come before her needs. She has that mothering sense, of sacrificing her emotions and comfort for others, even though she has not borne children from Magnus (the Immortal king is sterile—at least with her physiology). So she buries her trauma (as people do), and says that she forgives him for the pressing sake of dealing with what evil took over her husband. Sadly, Lila’s story is not unique. Most first time incidents of domestic abuse are forgiven or simply unreported. That’s a statistical reality.

As time and progression through the novel shows us, however, Lila neither forgives nor forgets. The scars are too deep, and those wounds cannot possibly heal in weeks or months—not to a woman that knows eternity. In many ways, Lila is brought back to the very situation and oppression from which she believed herself to have escaped. She questions everything about the brother-kings, their connection to each other and to her, and her sense of individuality and pride. She questions who she really is, for she has become a stranger to herself. The growth and arc of her character is quite broad, spanning all four novels. I have to say though, she is one of my favorite and certainly one of the most inspiring characters once she finds herself. Lila’s journey is one to which many women can relate—regardless of whether Lila is real or not. Being confused. Being lost in the darkness. Forging ahead, even when all she knows is a sickening fear and agony that she can tell no one about. Lila is a composite of all that I’ve learned and seen of women pushing past their station, pushing to define themselves after trauma, and discovering new limits on who and what they thought they could be.

The ripple effect of the Lila’s assault carries through to all those in Magnus and Lila’s inner circle. It begins a world war between the brother-kings. It destroys the relationship between Magnus and his foster-son, Erik—and drives that man down his own dark path of revenge, repentance and conflict. Indeed, this event fractures countless loyalties and trusts. It is a single action that tears a hundred seams in the fabric of Geadhain. And back to where we started with this blog, all this ensuing strife would not have had the same believability, the same impact, or overall the same impetus for character growth if I had put on my fluffy, cuddly writer mitts. Sure, I could have said: “some dark and terrible things happened to Lila that night. Come the dawn her bloodmate left for war.” First, that’s lazy writing. Second, screw that. The reader deserves to see how Lila suffered. To see from where her hate and madness has festered. Then they can cheer with Lila as she conquers those demons and becomes a kick-ass, self-possessed and liberated character.


Darkness only blinds us if we refuse to move through the fear and into the light.

Feast of DreamsFour Feasts Till DarknessBook TwoChristian A. Brown
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Book Description:
As King Brutus licks his wounds and gathers new strength, two rival queens vow to destroy each other’s nations.
Lila of Eod, sliding into madness, risks everything in the search for a powerful relic, while Queen Gloriatrix threatens Eod with military might—including three monstrous technomagikal warships.
Far from this clash of queens, Morigan and the Wolf scour Alabion, hunting for the mad king’s hidden weakness. Their quest brings them face to face with their own pasts, their dark futures…and the Sisters Three themselves.
Unbeknownst to all, a third thread in Geadhain’s tapestry begins to move in the wastes of Mor’Khul. There, a father and son scavenge to survive as they travel south toward a new chapter in Geadhain history.


Available at Amazon Kindle and Paperback


Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/rURqUni_lco





Excerpt:

“My queen, it grows late.”            Queen Lila was about to address the enormous man casting his silver-hued shadow over her as Rowena. But no. Her sword was gone and neck-deep in espionage with the master of the East Watch, and a hammer named Erik was her guardian these days. What sad eyes the man had, more black than blue—as morose as those of an owl perched over a graveyard. She could see them glinting from beneath his darkened visor. Rarely did she spot the hard, hidden handsomeness of the man—his black hair, broken but appealing face, and stubble crisscrossed in scars. Come to think of it, aside from the moment his naked, scorched self had abruptly manifested in a cindery puff within the Chamber of Echoes some weeks ago, she hadn’t seen him without his helm. He was hiding then from the absence of his king or another private torment. She had been staring at him rather unabashedly for quite a spell. The sparkle of fiery colors off the immaculate polish of his pristine armor hypnotized her. His voice snapped her out of her trance. How quickly evening’s shroud had fallen.            “Time has escaped us,” commented the queen.            Erik gently led her from the bedside she attended. As they passed the hospice’s cots and floor pallets, the hands and voices of the wounded reached for her. Erik watched the queen’s remorseful looks and the aching way she touched the feet of certain sufferers or the backs of weeping kin. These days she was cold and ruthless in her judgments within the palace. She had become a steel queen to stand metal for mettle against the Iron Queen rising in the East. In these particular confines, however, where the faltering breath of the ailing made the air humid, and it was thick with the stench of eucalyptus poultices and incense to mask the rot magik would not heal, the queen’s mask cracked or was simply cast off. Genuine pity replaced it. She had come here each day for the past fortnight since the storm of frostfire had struck Eod. “The day of ruin,” the people called it—when first the skies were bare and then suddenly forked with red lightning, spitting shards of ice and arrows of flame to the earth. None of sound mind could have prepared for that wailing apocalypse. Thousands were killed instantly. They were boiled inside tarry craters the earthspeakers were still working to fill or entombed in buildings that could not hold against the storm’s wrath. The injuries were uncountable, and they were still being reported. Those with only singed or frostbitten flesh dismissed the pettiness of their wounds and carried on with tourniquets and grimaces. Others had to be scraped from streets or, if mauled but living, extracted from rubble and taken to a growing encampment of emergency sites erected near the palace. Here was where the queen always found herself once the details of war, supply lines, allies, enemies, and stratagems had worn her patience to a snappy disinterest. Somehow in these miserable hospices, the queen seemed peaceful, albeit sad.Time and again Erik made one-sided conversation as he guarded his new charge—he never managed to say these words. You blame yourself for this or for my kingfather’s fate. You see these sins as your own. You feel the weight and needs of this entire nation upon yourself, and what a terrible weight that must be to bear. You are not alone, though, my queen. As adrift as you might be, I am here. I shall be the rock you need. I have made a promise to the great man who speaks to us no more.The night he had appeared so rudely at her side, she held him and told him she could not sense the king anymore. The icy flame of Magnus’s soul had gone as cold as a forgotten hearth.“What does it mean? What does it all mean?” she’d sobbed.She was without her lover and partner in eternity, and he was without his father. They were agonizingly alone. Only on that night did she cry for the king and never since—as far as Erik had witnessed. He and the queen did not speak of their grief again or further pursue the reality that the Immortal King—missing and utterly quiet in his queen’s mind since the battle with his mad brother in Zioch—was quite possibly dead.At the hospice exit, Queen Lila stopped so suddenly that Erik almost elbowed his liege. With what Erik perceived as a speck of wariness, she half glanced over her shoulder, and her gaze swelled wide with fear. She was staring at something behind them. Erik looked as well and reached a hand to his weapon. However, he saw nothing aside from the rows of squirming sufferers moving on their bloody, sweat-soaked cots like man-size maggots. What horrible times these were.“Have you forgotten something?” he asked.Queen Lila wished she could explain the hairs that prickled on her neck or the chill of Mother Winter’s mouth that blew the humidity from the chamber, but no one else seemed to feel it. Most of all, she wanted to find a less hysterical explanation for the shadow—tall as a mountain, black, and somehow bright—that hovered in the corner of her eye. She would not turn around and look at it. She could not. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would involuntarily scream. What do you want, shadow? Why do you haunt me? Why do you come to me in dreams?“My queen?”“No. I need nothing more,” she answered curtly and moved ahead, trembling. Feast of FatesFour Feasts Till DarknessBook OneChristian A. Brown
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: September 9, 2014
ISBN: 978-1495907586Number of pages: 540
Word Count: 212K
Book Description:
"Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.”
Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land.
With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.

Available at Amazon and CreatespaceExcerpt 
Menos was darker than usual: its clouds as black as the shadow of fear that haunted Mouse. The city felt more menacing to her. She saw shadows in every corner, noticed the glint of every ruffian’s blade or slave’s chain as though they were all intended for her. The warning of Alastair played inside her skull on a loop of nightmare theater.            A hand over her mouth startles her awake, and she twists for the dagger in her pillowcase until she recognizes the shadowy apparition atop her, who hisses at her to calm.            “Alastair?” she gasps.            The hand unclenches and the willowy shadow retreats to more of its own; she can only see the scruff of his red beard in the dark.            “Get up, Mouse. Get dressed.”            Her mentor sounds annoyed or confused; she is each, but finds her garments quickly enough anyway.            “I don’t like good-byes, so let’s not call this that,” Alastair says with a sigh. “But it will be a parting, nonetheless. You need to go low. Lower than you’ve ever been before. A new name won’t be enough. You’ll need a new face. I don’t know how or who, but the sacred contract of our order has been broken. Your safety has been bought.”            Mouse knows the who and how, and as she glances up from her boot-lacing to explain to her mentor her predicament, she sees that he is gone. Just empty shadows, echoing words, and the sound of her heartbeat drowning out all the rest.            She expected the dead man and his icy master to emerge from the dim nooks and doorways of the buildings she passed at any instant. With a hand on her knives and a fury to her step, she swept down the sidewalk; no carriages for her today, as they were essentially cages on wheels—too easy to trap oneself in. With its sooty storefronts and their wrought-iron windows, its black streetlamps that rose about her like the bars of a prison, Menos was constricting itself around her, and she had to get out.            You’ve survived worse than the nekromancer, she coached herself, though she wasn’t certain that was true. She hurried through the grimness of Menos, dodging pale faces and quickening her step with every sand. By the time she arrived at the fleshcrafter’s studio, she was sweating and stuck to her cloak. She looked down the desolate sidewalk and up the long sad face of the tall tower with its many broken or boarded-over windows. When she was sure she wasn’t being pursued by the phantoms that her paranoia had conjured, she pulled back a rusted door that did not cry out as it should have, given its appearance, but slid along well-formed grooves through the dust. She raced through the door and hauled it closed.            It was dark and flickering with half-dead lights in the garbage-strewn hallway in which she stood. Mouse picked through the trash with her feet, tensing as she passed every dark alcove in the abandoned complex. Hives, these places were called, and used to house enormous numbers of lowborn folk under a single roof. In Menos, even the shabbiest roof was a desirable commodity, so the building’s ghostly vacancy meant that it likely was condemned by disease at one point. Soon the stairwell she sought appeared, and she tiptoed down it, careful not to slip on the stairs, which were slick with organic grunge.
            Couldn’t have picked a nicer studio, she cursed. I’ll be lucky if this fleshcrafter leaves me with half a lip to drink with. Lamentably, speed and discretion were her two goals in choosing where to have her face remodeled. Such stipulations cut the more promising fleshcrafters off the list and left her with the dregs. She hadn’t put much thought into what she would have done, or even if she would end up hideously disfigured. Monstrous disfigurement could even work in her favor, as she bore an uncanny resemblance to that crow-eviscerated woman whom she suspected was the object of the nekromancer’s dark desire. I’ll take ugly over dead. Over whatever he has in mind for me. 
About the Author:
Bestselling author of the critically acclaimed Feast of Fates, Christian A. Brown received a Kirkus star in 2014 for the first novel in his genre-changing Four Feasts Till Darkness series. He has appeared on Newstalk 1010, AM640, Daytime Rogers, and Get Bold Today with LeGrande Green. He actively writes a blog about his mother’s journey with cancer and on gender issues in the media. A lover of the weird and wonderful, Brown considers himself an eccentric with a talent for cat-whispering.

http://christianadrianbrown.com
https://twitter.com/AuthorChrisAB
https://www.facebook.com/ChristianAdrianBrown
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8422242.Christian_A_Brown
https://plus.google.com/u/0/105782095673393074893/about

November 2015 Issue of Bewitching Book Tours Magazine

The November Issue of Bewitching Book Tours Magazine features Laura Bickle’s latest release, Mercury Retrograde, Book Two in the Dark Alchemy Series. Read an excerpt and learn about The Top Ten Weird Things in the Wild West. 

This month you can also read about Crafty Green Christmas Tips and Ideas by Wenona Napolitano, The Devil Made Me Do It with K.A. M’Lady, Worldbuilding with Ann Gimpel, 5 Reasons We Love Pirates with Suzanne Johnson, Four Feast Till Darkness Series with Christian A. Brown, Top Ten Hollywood Witches with Rosa Lee Jude, Haunting Inspirations with Lisa Acerbo, ARe Books’ November Releases and It’s Halloween All Year in the Pumpkin Patch with Roxanne Rhoads.


http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours/docs/magazine__39