Lisa Bilbrey's Blog, page 15

SURPRISE COVER REVEAL: Love Happens: An Anthology

Love Happens: An Anthology Cover Design: Amy Queau/QDesignRelease Date: April 24, 2017 
SynopsisIn this must-have short-story collection, Melanie Moreland introduces us to Ethan Thomas in When Love Blooms. Melanie Harlow shares her novel, Some Kind of Love. Molly McLain and Rhonda James share Luke and Mia’s no strings weekend that could lead to love. Claudia Burgoa visits New York City in How We Met. Leap with Dylan Allen to London where we meet Cara’s dream man. Emery Jacobs revisits the Beautiful Torture Duet. Go on vacation with the beloved characters of the Unspoken Series by Gabbie Duran. I See You is based on secondary characters in Ginger Scott's How We Deal With Gravity. Fall in love with Jeanne McDonald’s Shadow Kingsley in All Of Me. Lisa Kamps takes us to the ice arena with First Shot At Love (A Baltimore Banners Story). Bad girl Delilah meets Lance, her total opposite, in Wild Pumpkin by Martha Sweeney. Mia Kayla brings us Kent and Beth from Marry Me for Money, a couple with different views in All Work And No Play. In Love on The Edge, Molly Lee’s Dash and Blake from the Edge of Chaos spend their honeymoon chasing storms. Rockstar Silas Palmer finds love on the side of the road in Hitch by S.M. West.   Fifteen authors come together to celebrate Autism Awareness month with proceeds benefitting Southwest Autism Research & Resource Center (SARRC) and Myles-A-Part.   Love Happens features stories about finding love, falling in love and being in love.  
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Connect with the AuthorsMelanie Moreland: http://bit.ly/2nXpkbvMelanie Harlow: http://bit.ly/2o2ZWTmMolly McLain: http://bit.ly/2oCY3hhClaudia Burgoa: http://bit.ly/2nXNYZKDylan Allen: http://bit.ly/2o2YCA4Emery Jacobs: http://bit.ly/2ctSfOkGabbie S. Duran: http://bit.ly/2oBLoM9Ginger Scott: http://bit.ly/2naNBxxJeanne McDonald: http://bit.ly/2ahMlB3Lisa B. Kamps: http://bit.ly/2naP1YSMartha Sweeney: http://bit.ly/2nDT0bVMia Kayla: http://bit.ly/2a1nfnvMolly E. Lee: http://bit.ly/2nJYt1NRhonda James: http://bit.ly/2naFe5cS.M. West: http://bit.ly/2o33lSe 

RELEASE BLITZ: All Who Wander Are Lost by Bruce Blake

ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOSTIcarus Fell series, book 2
by Bruce BlakeGenre: Urban Fantasy


If we're good, we go to Heaven; if we're bad we go to Hell. No one wants to go to Hell.

Except one man who wishes people would just remember to call him Ric.

In the aftermath of a serial killer's murderous spree, souls who didn't deserve damnation went to Hell. The archangel Michael doesn't seem concerned, but Icarus Fell can't bear the guilt of knowing it's his fault they ended up there.

But how can he save them when the archangel forbids him from going and his guardian angel refuses to help?

The answer comes in the form of another beautiful, bewitching guardian angel who offers to be his guide. They travel to Hell to rescue the unjustly damned one by one, but salvation comes at a cost and the economy of Hell demands souls.

Is it a price Icarus is willing to pay?

Chapter One

When your guardian angel and her friend, the archangel Gabriel, tell you to stay put, it’s probably a good idea to listen.

I should have, but I have inexplicable difficulty with authority figures. It gets me in trouble. A lot.

An old Buick sat to the right of my motel room door looking like it hadn’t moved in a decade or so, and it certainly hadn’t budged since I checked in; a few other cars were parked in the motel’s lot but there were no people. I stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind me, the click of the lock firecracker-loud in the winter night.

I paused. Still no one around. I breathed deep and stepped away from the door, the first time I’d been outside the dingy, musty-smelling room in weeks.

A month ago, the police found a tranny prostitute named Dante Frank dead on a bed in a five-star hotel, hairy chest and hairless vagina exposed for the world to see along with the biblical references his killer carved in his flesh. Dante, whom I’d known as Danielle Francis, was the last victim of the serial killer dubbed the Revelations Reaper by the media. The police had a suspect in the string of killings: me.

I didn’t kill any of them but, if the truth be told, their deaths were on me.

Forget the angels telling me to stay indoors, the fact the local news had been flashing an unflattering picture of my face on the screen every night until a week ago should have kept me inside my seedy room. But you know what they say about common sense...it ain’t so common.

Icarus Fell: living proof.

I didn’t think that because they finally stopped plastering my face all over the six o’clock news they’d stopped looking for me. Every cop in the city likely still carried my picture like they were at war and I was their girl waiting for them back home, but after four weeks in my motel-room-prison, the prospect of remaining inside held as little appeal as being girlfriend to a bunch of cops. I’d spent every moment of the last month thinking about my role in the deaths, wishing things were different. Another minute trapped alone with my guilt might prove one too many.

I slipped away from the motel and down a side street, disappearing in shadows and down alleys wherever I could. The taste of impending snow in the early December air fortified my lungs.

As I ranged farther from the motel, the garbage strewn on the streets and graffiti tags spray-painted on walls -- ‘Big Turk Wuz Hear’ and other poetic gems -- became less frequent until they disappeared completely. I’d made my way to a neighborhood where people cared, a fact which should have rang alarm bells in my head and made me more careful, but the lack of hookers and drug dealers lifted my spirits and my worry ebbed taking caution along with it.

Dumb ass.

I paused at the intersection, the lights of an approaching car reflecting on the frost-rimed pavement as I waited to be sure it would obey the stop sign. Without the fresh air loosening my wits, I’d have waved him through, but freedom made my head light in the way of a non-smoker after a few drags on a cigarette. The car’s brakes squeaked as it rolled to a halt. I stepped off the curb and raised a hand in thanks, squinting against the lights, but couldn’t see the driver. Hand replaced in pocket, I continued on my way, thinking nothing of it until I heard the hum and chatter of a power window in need of repair.

“Hey, you.”

The words weren’t spoken with the timbre of someone in need of directions. The caution and worry the beautiful night had leeched from me flooded back; I quickened my pace.

“Stop.”

I broke into a run before his engine roared and tires chirped. Cutting across a well-manicured lawn, I hopped a fence, ran through a back yard dominated by an inter-locking brick patio and an in-ground pool emptied for the winter, then vaulted another fence into a rear lane, cursing my stupidity with every step.

Despite a house between us, I heard the car’s engine rev and labor as the driver gave chase. I dove through a line of tall shrubs, their branches scratching my face, and into another yard, keeping my flight to places the car couldn’t go. Ten minutes of fence-jumping and shrub-diving later, I emerged on a sporadically lit street. Familiar graffiti scrolled across the side of a building; Big Turk and his poor spelling were back. Close to my motel. My lungs labored, the cold air hurting my chest instead of refreshing it as a stitch in my side dug in and grabbed hold. I stopped to catch my breath, bent at the waist, hands grasping knees like the world’s worst marathoner run out of steam, but rest didn’t last long. A siren wailed behind me and I forced my legs back into action.

I darted into an alley and the all-too-familiar stink of garbage and piss, depression and decay hit me immediately. I’d lost so many days and nights of my youth in alleys like this, sleeping off a bottle of vodka or poking a needle in my arm. I forced the thought from my mind. This was no time to self-analyze by way of shitty memories.

Tires screeched at the mouth of the alley. I didn’t look back, my attention taken by a figure stepping out of the shadows into my path. A Carrion, I assumed--a human-shaped demon sent to collect souls and make my life difficult--but I quickly realized the silhouette was smaller and more feminine, leaving two possible people. Angels, really. I halted a few paces beyond arm’s-reach in case I was wrong.

“Hey, mister. Long time, no see.”

I recognized the voice immediately. The angel stepped into the light and I saw her gingerbread hair, glimpsed the freckled skin of her cheek.

“Gabe.”

The Archangel Gabriel is the messenger. She brings scrolls with my assignments inscribed on them: who’s scheduled to pass, where, when, and where to take them when it’s done.

I couldn’t think of a worse time for her to show up.

“Did you miss me?”

Her pure voice echoed off the alley walls and a chorus of swallows which always accompanied her, but that I couldn’t see in the dark, chirped and chittered on a fire escape overhead.

“Don’t have time right now, Gabe,” I said breathlessly and glanced over my shoulder. The alley remained empty, but it wouldn’t for much longer.

“Here.”

She offered a scroll which hadn’t been in her hand a second before.

“Really, Gabe? I don’t--” I gestured toward the alley at my back, offered a pleading look. She shook the scroll at me and raised an eyebrow.

I’d learned the hard way that harvesting wasn’t the kind of job you could slack off at; the hard way seems to be how I learn pretty much everything. I gave in without any real fight.

My finger brushed hers as I grasped the rolled parchment and an electric charge prickled the hairs on my arm, bringing with it a longing to spend time with her, to be in her presence as long as possible. I nearly forgot the man chasing me.

“Gabe, I--”

She smiled and shrugged. “You don’t have time, remember?”

Swallow wings beat the air above my head as she walked away. I stared after her for a second before pulling myself from the angel-induced stupor to look at the scroll in my hand. This was my second assignment since everything went down: the deaths, the media frenzy, the explosion at the church. What happened to souls during my seclusion? Did they make other arrangements or were they okay with everyone going to Hell for a few weeks while I got my wits about me? Great vacation for me, but kind of sucked for everyone else.

Unrolling the scroll unnerved me. After being given one inscribed with my son’s name, I couldn’t help but hold my breath. Probably would every time I did it.

Shaun Williams.

I set my captive breath free. Didn’t know him. The address scrawled on the yellowed parchment wasn’t familiar either, but I knew the city well enough to recognize it was close. I read the time of death, then checked my watch.

Two minutes from now.

The sound of shoes hammering pavement reverberated off the alley’s brick walls. I got my legs moving again and took a corner, feet tangling in a pile of garbage bags and spilling me to the pavement. My shoulder hit hard and I skidded a couple of feet along the damp ground, filth snow-plowing onto my jacket. I scrambled to my feet, glanced ahead and behind as the footsteps grew louder, and realized the futility of my flight. Facing my pursuer seemed the only option. Maybe I could talk my way out of it before my appointment came and went.

Damn it.

Bad things happen to good people when I miss appointments. And to bad people; also, the Swiss.

I backed down the alley and didn’t have to wait long for the man chasing me. He rounded the corner, avoided the garbage bags which had tripped me, and skidded to a halt in a pool of light cast by a security light mounted high overhead. The dress pants he wore looked a year or so beyond their best-before date; a long wool coat covered a rumpled dress shirt which may never have made a dry cleaner’s acquaintance. I might have noticed more but the gun in his hand distracted me.

“Mr. Fell,” he said between panted breaths. “If that’s really your name.”

“It’s the name the bastard gave me,” I muttered glancing from gun to a face I’d met a few times and seen many more on the news. The muscles in my jaw clenched and released as I silently counted the passing seconds in my head. “We seem to meet under awkward circumstances, don’t we, Detective?”

“Sometimes happens between serial killers and cops.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Right.” He leveled the gun, his eternally tired eyes unwavering. “And I’m Serena Williams. Put your hands behind your head.”

A little firework went off in my brain, interrupting my mental countdown. He obviously wasn’t Serena Williams -- wrong sex, wrong skin color, and he didn’t look like much of a tennis player -- so why pick her out of a thousand possible celebrities to use sarcastically? I chanced pissing him off and stole a peek at my watch: t-minus one minute. My gut wrenched one twist to the right.

If I don’t get out of here quick--

The thought cut off half-formed, bullied aside by another. The detective was the lead investigator in the Revelations Reaper case, the guy the newscasts interviewed no matter how uncomfortable he looked on camera, so I’d seen his face a hundred times on TV. And every time they showed him offering his oft-quoted ‘no comment’, they emblazoned his name on the screen in white letters.

How did I miss it?

Detective Shaun Williams.

I raised an eyebrow. “Detective Williams?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now that we’ve been properly introduced, put your fucking hands behind your head before I shoot you.”

I peered past him, then to both sides. With his name on the scroll in my back pocket, there had to be someone waiting to ambush this man scheduled to die in about forty-five seconds.

“You need to get out of here,” I said, eyes still searching the shadows. “You’re in danger.”

“Me?” He stretched his arm toward me, pushing the barrel closer. “If you don’t get your hands up right now, you’ll never walk again.”

The seconds ticked off in my head, echoing down the hallways of my mind. I gritted my teeth, fought the compulsion to try and save him.

Not my job.

They sent me to retrieve his soul after his death, not prevent it. But so many already died because of me and my poor choices. Maybe this was an opportunity to make amends--with myself, if no one else. My eyes found his and held his gaze for a second; I didn’t have much more than that.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” I murmured and darted toward him, moving faster than he expected an out-of-shape-almost-forty guy like me could.

He squeezed the trigger but I was on him before he got the shot off. The gunshot nearly deafened me, the explosion echoing through my head, ringing in my ears. My arms encircled him, pinning his at his sides, and inertia carried me forward, driving him to the ground. Breath whooshed out of his lungs when we hit, but I didn’t let go.

“This is for your own good,” I said into his ear. His body jerked but my grip held. The last few seconds counted down in my head.

Five...four...three...two...one.

When I reached zero, I held on a few seconds longer in case my timing was off or my watch was slow. Nothing happened. No gunshot, no one jumping from the shadows; a grand piano didn’t drop from a balcony. Nothing.

I leaned back, a hand on his gun arm to prevent him from shooting me. Some thanks that would be for saving his life. I gripped his wrist expecting him to squirm away, but he didn’t. His lack of movement should have tipped me something was wrong, but I was too concerned with making sure we weren’t about to be attacked to notice. Nothing moved in the shadows, no one approached down the alley.

Could the scroll have been wrong?

Unlikely, but it happened before, when other forces manipulated events. How did I know the same wasn’t the case this time?

I didn’t.

A small movement caught my eye and I looked left to see a figure standing five yards away. Fear forced bitter, electric saliva into my mouth like I’d bitten down on a piece of aluminum foil, and I snatched the gun from Detective Williams’ hand, jerked it toward the silhouette. The man didn’t react, but simply stood watching. His presence made a knot form in my stomach which worked its way quickly into the back of my throat. The figure stepped forward into the light and the muscles in my forearm tensed, my finger brushed the trigger. It only took a second to realize he wasn’t as opaque as he should be.

This wasn’t a man, but a dislodged soul.

“What--?” I began but the lump in my throat got the better of my voice.

My brain finally registered the detective’s lack of movement and I looked from the soul to the detective’s face. His tired eyes stared up at me blankly; a dark circle of fluid spread across the grungy pavement beneath his head.

“No, I--”

The sight of his glazed eyes hit me like a spinning kick to the gut, stealing my breath and energy. My gun arm sagged, the police-issue .38 resting against my thigh, forgotten. I resisted the urge to shake him by the lapel of his wool coat or slap him awake, call out his name. I already knew what the result would be. The overhead light reflected in the pool of liquid around his head making a grisly halo.

I was responsible for another death.

I shook my head in disbelief and looked back at the spirit. There were no black bags under its eyes or worry lines at the corners of its mouth, but there was no mistaking to whom the soul belonged: except for the felt fedora tilted over the soul’s left eye like he’d stepped out of a Mickey Spillane novel, the spirit wore the same clothes.

“I didn’t--”

My words stuck again. Or maybe I didn’t want to complete the sentence because it would make what happened real. No need to worry, the ghost took care of that piece of business for me.

“You killed me.”




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ON UNFAITHFUL WINGS

To some, death is the end; to others, a beginning. To Icarus Fell, it should have been a relief from a life gone seriously awry.

But death had other plans.

Icarus doesn't believe that the man awaiting him when he wakes up in a cheap motel room is really the archangel Michael, or that God's right hand wants him to help souls on their way to Heaven. Icarus doesn't believe there's a Heaven, so why should they want his help?

But the man claiming to be the archangel tempts him with an offer he can't ignore--harvest enough souls and get back the life he wished he'd had.

It seems Icarus has nothing to lose, until he botches a harvest and the soul that went to Hell instead of Heaven comes back to make him pay by threatening to take away the life he hoped to win back.

To save the wife and son he already lost once, Icarus will have to become the man he never was. Somehow, he will have to learn to believe.



Bruce Blake lives on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. When pressing issues like shovelling snow and building igloos don't take up his spare time, Bruce can be found taking the dog sled to the nearest coffee shop to work on his short stories and novels.

Actually, Victoria, B.C. is only a couple hours north of Seattle, Wash., where more rain is seen than snow. Since snow isn't really a pressing issue, Bruce spends more time trying to remember to leave the "u" out of words like "colour" and "neighbour" than he does shovelling (and watch out for those pesky double l's). The father of two, Bruce is also the trophy husband of a burlesque diva.

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RELEASE TOUR: Midnight Weary by Monika Summerville

MIDNIGHT WEARYby Monika SummervilleGenre: Erotic Romance


Ian Deatherage’s past is a shadow. He’s doesn’t make friends traveling from place to place on his motorcycle. When it breaks down he has twenty dollars in his pocket, he’ll have to find a job to pay for the repairs. Kris Marcus is the owner of The Scamp. She offers Ian a bouncer job. Ian works for a week and the relationship between he and Kris builds and boils over into a night of hot passion. His words to her - I don’t do gentle - turns out fine. She isn’t used to soft touches. Ian and Kris dance around each other and find a hot attraction. She figures once his motorcycle is fixed he’ll leave area and wants to protect herself. He doesn’t know committed relationships and isn’t sure what to do. After several weeks of burning sex, Ian convinces Kris that he doesn’t want to leave. Will she let him stay or watch him go? EXCERPT #1
The bartender continued to check back with him every half hour or so. She seemed nice enough, but he knew she only did her job. Her brown hair shimmered in the dim light in the room and her ass looked great in her tight jeans.

A half hour on the dot since her last visit, she came up to his table.

“How are you doing?” she asked for the hundredth time.

“I’m okay. Can I ask you a question?”

She’d started to turn, but stopped and waited. “Sure.”

“Does anyone around here need a day worker for a week or two? You know heavy lifting and that sort of thing.”

“I don’t know. You might find a stocking job at one of the grocery stores. It will be a month or so before the farms start getting their fields ready for planting. Why?”

“My motorcycle is being repaired and I need to come up with the bucks to pay it off.” He saw her brows crease and knew what she would say. “Don’t worry. I have some money to pay for my meal, just not enough for repair bills.”

“No. I wasn’t thinking that,” she said. “We could use a bouncer. Do you have any experience with that type of stuff?”

No, he thought. “Yeah, I can do it.” How hard could it be?

“How’s fifteen dollars an hour to start? If you work out, it could go up to twenty.”

“I doubt I’ll be here that long, but fifteen would work. Who do I talk to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s the owner? Don’t I have to talk to him?”

She laughed. “I’m the owner. This was the easiest interview ever. Can you start tomorrow?” She leaned her hip against the table and her eyebrows rose.

He looked up at her and tried to smile back. “You own this place?”

“Yeah. Don’t piss me off and we’ll do just fine. Start tomorrow at five.”

“I’ll be here. Thanks.” Ian watched her walk away. “Hey. What’s your name?”

She turned back and laughed again. “Sorry, I’m Kris Marcus.”

“I’m Ian Deatherage.”

“Guess I shouldn’t call you death or rage, huh? It would be bad for business.”

“Would it be okay for me to crash here tonight? I can sleep on the floor.”


EXCERPT #2
Ian liked to watch her move, though. Her curves were nice and soft, and her ass would fit his big old hands just right. Sitting up straight on the stool, he looked away from her and around the room.Do your job, asshole. You can’t fuck the boss, he thought.

Around one-thirty Kris brought him a cup of coffee and during the transfer ran her finger over the back of his hand and looked at him.

“I know you’re watching me.” She smiled.

“So?”

“So, nothing. Do you like what you see?” She turned and walked back to the middle of the counter swishing her hips. When she turned back, she winked at him and then took an order from a waitress.

When the bar closed, the crew cleaned up, collected the garbage, and put the chairs up on the tables.

As the other employee’s left, he watched Kris turn off the lights behind the bar and move to the stairs. Before she started up, she turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. Ian locked the front door and turned off the Open sign. He stood by the door, looked at the stairs and wondered if he could put this in the good idea column. Should he screw her? His cock said yes, but his head went into a fog.

He went up the steps, turned into the office and saw her perched on top of her desk. She watched him move into the room and he could feel her look burn into his soul. Stopping in front of her with his thighs against her knees, he could feel heat come off her. One of his hands developed a mind of its own and reached up to her cheek. He ran his thumb over her lips.

“I don’t do gentle,” he said.

She bit his thumb and looked up at him. “I don’t like gentle.”


Siren Books


A Risky Dance
[Siren Allure: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, sex toys, HEA] Riley Frost is an attorney. He played in the BDSM community as a Dom and liked to be in control. He'd never found a woman with a sense of adventure and passion, until one night when he walked into a bar and... Sophie Pantagen is the vice-president of her father's company, Pantagen Industries. For the past ten years she's spent a couple evenings a month having one-offs with men whose names she never new. That was until one night in a bar when Riley and Sophie find each other at a time when both are looking for something. They're not sure what it is they want, but think they may have found it. Sophie's father is a cut-throat business man and when he thinks Sophie tells company secrets he comes after her with vengeance. Pantagen Industries begins to fall apart. Sophie is fired from her position and threatened by her father with an Edgar Allen Poe nightmare result.

A Lost Dance
[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romantic Suspense, HEA] Turner Black works for a group in Seattle that helps find people who were separated from loved ones for one reason or another. He’s hired to find the half-sister of a man, Stewart Tarver. Their shared father has passed away and left the half-sister part of a large inheritance.

Turner finds Rae Smith. She works as a stripper at a dance club in Tracy, California. She always wanted to be a ballet dancer, but the death of her mother took that dream away and Rae started to strip when she turned eighteen years of age. From one club to another, she is happy to just survive.

Turner and Rae are drawn to each other and, although the sex is great, she isn’t big on commitments and doesn’t want to deal with the inheritance game. And someone tries to kill her and then kidnaps her for sale to a slave trader in Hong Kong. Will she be able to trust Turner?

A Flame Dance
[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romance, HEA] Jarrah Hejazi is an ex-Marine, who defended his country and now owns a security company. He's worked, but forgot to live. On a visit with friends at Safe Haven, he meets Grace McKay and a boy named Jonah. Haven is a place where street kids get help and feel safe. Little does Hejazi know that within a couple of months his life will change one-hundred percent. Grace McKay, an ex-marine, works at Haven. She'd heard the owners talk about their friend Hejazi and when they meet, there's more she wants to know. Hejazi and Grace surrender to their attraction and work to find the brother of Jonah. The brother was taken by Feathertop, who gives street kids a safe place to live and then trains them to pick pockets, rob cars and homes. Dealing with a team member off the grid, and being chased by people who want them dead, Hejazi and Grace have to figure a way to keep it together.



Monika Summerville is an avid reader, loves good tense movies, and works hard on her writing. She lives in Western Washington State with her four cats, Agamemnon, Tazmania, Jasper and Jericho.

She has written A Risky Dance and A Lost Dance for Siren BookStrand. The third book - A Flame Dance - is available now.

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RELEASE TOUR: The Exchange Series by M.B. Feeney

The Exchange Series: The Complete Collectionby M.B. FeeneyGenre: YA/NA Romance


Dear Diary Born and bred in the UK, Holly is getting the chance of a lifetime—six weeks abroad. The Kings, a host family in the US, have invited her to stay with them and get a chance to experience life as an American. When she discovers that the King family includes two teenage boys, will she be glad she came or ready to hightail it back across the pond?

Reluctance Aiden King's heart has been broken, and he's taking his anger out on his brother, Tyler.

Can he, with the help of his High School Guidance Counsellor, work through his problems.

Repentance Tyler King has moved away from his family in order to help himself move on from the mistakes he made in High School.

A summer romance could lead to so much more, it could lead to him finally surrendering to his repentance for his past actions.

Dear John Ellie King has a plan. Do well in her Senior Year at High School before going to study in London, England. That’s all she wants in her immediate future.

Writing to John Davids not only cements her desire to study in the UK, but gives her more if a reason to leave her family in the US.



Reluctance Excerpt
December 2011

So, Ms. “It’s MIZZ not MISS” Jones gave me this journal. Apparently writing my feelings down will help me deal with my ‘anger issues’ and the ‘depression’ I’ve been suffering since Jessie ended things between us.

I admit, I am angry, and have been for two months, but I’m not depressed. Yeah, I was hurt and shit, but now I’m just angry. All the time; an emotion I’m not used to feeling so much. Up until now, I’ve never done the ‘angry’ stuff; never even knew I had a temper as such.

She’s ‘advised’ me to start at the beginning as much as I can with these dumb entries. I don’t want to do it, but as we have to read them together at our weekly meetings, I have no choice. At least one entry a day. . . This whole thing sucks ass.

There’s no point starting at the very beginning, though; back then everything was good; real good. No, I think my seventeenth birthday is where I need to start this thing. . .

Aiden

Repentance Excerpt
When his mom first told him a British chick was coming to stay with them, Tyler had been like a shark tasting fresh blood. He was going to charm her into his bed, then let her head back home, he hadn’t forseen her coming back thanks to his brother knocking her up. What choice did any of them have but to have her in the house, this time permanently?

“Hey, where d’you go just then?” Anna’s question brought his attention back to the present. Once again he could feel the warm sand on his bare feet and her small form in his arms. He smiled down at her.

“Sorry, I was thinking about home.” He bent to capture her lips with his own. The kiss making his heart rate pick up as every other kiss they’d shared had done. When he boarded the plane back in Arizona, he’d never expected much to happen on his vacation. He’d planned on lounging on the beach during the day, and drinking in bars in the evenings, but as he was checking into his hotel, he’d spotted Anna struggling with her bags and from the moment he’d helped her into the elevator, his plans had changed.

Plans that had never included falling in love with someone in a two week period.


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M. B. Feeney is an army brat who finally settled down in Birmingham, UK with her other half, two kids and a dog. She often procrastinates by listening to music of all genres and trying to get ‘just one more paragraph’ written on whichever WIP is open; she is also a serious doodler and chocoholic. Writing has been her one true love ever since she could spell, and publishing is the final culmination of her hard work and ambition.

Her publishing career began with two novellas, and she currently has multiple projects under way, in the hopes that her portfolio of what have been described as “everyday love stories for everyday people” will continue to grow. Always having something on the go can often lead to block which eventually gets dissolved by good music and an even better book.

Her main reason for writing is to not only give her readers enjoyment, but also to create a story and characters that stay with readers long after the book is finished, and possibly make someone stop and think “what if . . . ”

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RELEASE TOUR: The Redemption of Joseph Heinz by Michele E. Gwynn

THE REDEMPTION OF JOSEPH HEINZThe Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series, book 3
by Michele E. GwynnGenre: Crime/Thriller


The Kommissar is back, and going rogue in St. Petersburg! A new lead on a cold case, one that has haunted Heinz, and nearly cost him his career now offers a path to redemption. A ledger containing the names of abducted girls recovered from the Vledelets during the Ivchencko affair offers renewed hope. With the wedding to his partner-turned-love of his life, Birgitta Mahler, drawing near, Detective Heinz must find a way to close the door on his guilt once and for all. But will his decision to investigate the disappearance of Marlessa Schubert lead him to an answer he can live with or an early grave? All roads lead to one destination, Warehouse 214, and one man, Vladimir Breshnev, known to his enemies as ‘the Butcher’, and to Interpol as the leader of the Russian mafia. Unsanctioned, and on his own, Heinz pursues his demons. When he fails to check in, his protégé, Officer Elsa Kreiss, must call in a dangerous favor. If she succeeds, Heinz will make it to the church on time, but if she fails, he’ll arrive in a box.
“I have your papers.” She pulled a packet out of her shoulder bag, and shoved it across the table at him. “Don’t open it here. Just put it in the seat next to you. Inside is your new passport. Your name is Martin Lintz, and you are an Austrian school teacher. You teach mathematics to ten year olds. Your birthdate remains the same for ease in remembering should anyone ask, and your address is your old house where you grew up.”

Heinz’s eyebrows shot up. “And how do you know that address?”

She shrugged. “I know everything about you. Faust provided most of it, the rest I dug up on my own.”

“Christ, there’s just no privacy anymore.” He shook his head.

She remained unfazed. “No, none. You will find a new cellular inside. It’s clean and registered to Martin Lintz. You can call whoever you need to, and it will route through your other account. “There is also a baggage tag for your suitcase. You can pick up your ticket to Saint Petersburg at the Air Baltic counter.” She held out her hand.

Heinz looked at it. “What?” he asked.

“Hand over your phone and passport. You can’t take them with you. They will give you away should you be caught.”

“I’m just supposed to leave my personal phone and passport with you? How will I get them back?”“I will express mail them to Faust as soon as I leave here. They’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

Joseph sighed. He wasn’t happy about turning over his personal information to this young woman, but it was also obvious that she already had all that since she freely admitted to digging around in his business. He pulled the phone and passport out of his pocket and handed them over.

“Now, in addition to the new phone, there is also Russian currency so you don’t need to stop anywhere to exchange. The amount is five thousand Euros in rubles. You have something for me?”

“Oh, yes.” Heinz reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thick envelope, handing it over.She held it in both hands, weighing it. When she was satisfied, she got up. “Thank you.” She turned to leave.

“Wait!” Joseph sat straight, watching her.

“What?”

“That’s it?” He was shocked at their short exchange.

“What more did you expect?”

That got him. What did I expect? He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it all just seemed rather abrupt.”

“I got the distinct impression that you, yourself, didn’t care for bullshit.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, her face absent any emotion.

“I suppose not. Never mind. Thank you.” He dismissed the girl.





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Exposed: The Education of Sarah Brown
Sarah Brown sets out on a journey to sensual self-discovery and falls face first into danger. In Barcelona, Anthony de Luca, a renowned travel author and photographer, unleashes the full force of his charm that threatens to steal her heart, a prize he openly admits he doesn’t want. Still, she can’t resist him, and finds herself experiencing the heights of ecstasy and the lows of heartbreak as her lover leaves without a word. In Berlin, Paul Christiansen, a handsome Dutch Lothario with a sordid past, works his wiles to seduce her body while in the shadows, a predator stalks a young boy close to Sarah determined to get what he wants or kill anyone who gets in his way. One of her two lovers has led a dangerous criminal straight to her door, but which one, and who can she trust?


The Evolution of Elsa KreissWhat happens when Berlin's premiere dominatrix trades in her whip for a badge and gun? She discovers she cannot completely escape her past. With the help of the detective who saved her little brother’s life, Elsa Kreiss enters the police academy, expecting her world to now be far safer. Instead, it only becomes more dangerous!An unsolved case of three missing girls from Charlottenburg pulls her mentor, Kommissar Joseph Heinz, back into the dark abyss just as he realizes he’s in love with his partner, Birgitta Mahler. While he searches for a killer, she fights an attraction to a very sexy bad boy. Lukas Trommler is everything she likes in a man; cocky, confident, and hot. An art buyer at a local gallery, Lukas exudes culture with an edge of danger. He invites her into his world where she comes face to face with a familiar monster, Yuri Ivchencko, one of the most powerful and wealthiest men in the world with ties to the Russian mafia and human trafficking. His obsession with the sick and twisted side of human nature expressed in art offends Elsa, who doesn’t hesitate to say so. Her outburst lands her squarely on his radar. When Elsa is reported missing, Heinz must put aside his case to rescue his protégé. The operation brings him face to face with a man from his past, the evil Russian he believes responsible for the cold case that haunts him still.The stakes are high as they race to save several young women now at the mercy of a sadistic billionaire now bound for St. Petersburg, The fate of those kidnapped, should Elsa and Heinz fail, will be worse than death.

Extra!!! As an added bonus for all my Beliners, I will be offering the Prequel to The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series, The Making of Herman Faust, to ALL of my current and NEW Newsletter Subscribers. This novella WILL NOT be available anywhere else. It is EXCLUSIVE to my dedicated subscribers. The Making of Herman Faust will be available in May, 2017.

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Michele E. Gwynn is a Bestselling Multigenre Author of Crime/Detective books, Sci-Fi/Horror books, and Paranormal/Supernatural romance books in San Antonio. She previously wrote for newspapers, magazines, and online websites. As a journalist, she's covered news and events, and conducted countless celebrity interviews.

She has 3 series currently with several stand-alones, and more books coming!

She resides in the small town of Schertz, Texas on the northeast side of San Antonio with her four felines who so graciously allow her to reside in their home.

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RELEASE TOUR: A Boy from the Streets by Maria Gibbs

A BOY FROM THE STREETSby Maria GibbsGenre: Urban Drama


Two babies abandoned at birth—one grows up in a life of privilege, the other in poverty.

On the 12th of September, 1981, twin boys are born in a Brasilian hospital and left to their fate as orphans. Jose is adopted by a couple who takes him to England, but the other isn’t so lucky. Pedro ends up on the streets of Rio, left to fend for himself in a harsh and unforgiving world.

Love and betrayal.

Twelve years later Jose’s family returns to Brasil, where he learns the truth about his adoption and his twin. Thinking his adoptive parents no longer want him, he runs away to find his brother. What follows will shake Jose to the core and shape the rest of his life—if he can survive.

Murder.

Jose isn’t the only one whose life will change. Pedro is offered an opportunity beyond any of his wildest dreams, but to keep it will mean the betrayal of someone he loves. This proves to be a far greater challenge than he anticipated when the orphan finds himself suddenly surrounded by family who, unfortunately, don’t all have good intentions.

Hopes and dreams.

A Boy from the Streets will tug at your heart-strings and have you rooting for the little guy as you follow the twists and turns this multi-continental tale takes.“Fernando, we must take them both, we cannot separate twins.”

“Christina, you’re too soft, we can’t bring up two children. You’re not strong enough to cope with the needs of twins. Your constitution is weak. It would be unfair to all of us.”

“I know my health is delicate, Fernando, and I will always regret that I can’t carry your baby to term inside me, but I know I can love and care for these twins. We can afford to hire help…” She trailed off when she saw the determined jut of his chin, the expression that brooked no further argument. Christina decided to try one last tug at his conscience anyway. “If we leave one behind, he might end up on the streets, an urchin living in squalor and fighting to survive… if he even makes it past babyhood.”

“Christina, your abundance of love does you credit, but I have no doubts the other boy will be adopted also. The only thing left to do now is to choose which one you would like?”

Christina’s heart sank as she looked at the two bundles in front of her. He was asking her to choose one, like picking out a pair of shoes from the rows on display in a shop. One stirred and let out a howl, disturbing his twin. It was almost as though he were alert to the inherent danger in this situation and was warning his brother.

Christina reached out a hand to each of them, touching their delicate tiny fingers and marvelling at how small, how fragile they were. Both lay quietly now, staring up at her with eyes as yet unable to focus. The boy who had been woken by his brother curled his tiny digits around her finger. In that moment she knew. He was asking her for help. The other twin would have the strength and tenacity to face whatever life threw at him. Christina couldn’t think about that, now that the decision was made. There was no hope of changing Fernando’s mind.

Without a further glance to the brother, she scooped up her new baby, cradling his floppy head and bringing him close to her chest so that he could feel her heart beat and know he was safe. She started to walk away with Fernando’s supportive hand between her shoulder blades. The baby in her arms let out a whimpering cry, and his twin, who still lay in the cot, responded with a heart-breaking howl which tore at her heartstrings and caused Christina to pause her flight. Fernando’s hand applied gentle pressure while she lifted one leaden foot in front of the other. A silent tear fell from her face onto the baby in her arms. She muttered a quick prayer for his twin.

“All that’s left now is to fill in the paperwork and the boy is ours.” Fernando’s handsome face broke into a smile. He reached out and touched the silent baby in his wife’s arms.

“You are to be our son,” he crooned. “We must think of a fitting name to honour your new status in the Sanchez family.”

“Jose, after your father.” Christina dimpled as Fernando rewarded her with a winning smile then pulled her and their new baby into his arms before placing a gentle kiss on her lips.




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I'm a self-published author who released her first novelette in January 2015 ‘As Dreams are Made on’ which was closely followed by my second one in February of the same year ‘A Lifetime or a Season.’

In 2016 I released ‘The Storm Creature’ after writing it for an anthology.

2017 will see the release of a novel which I am excited about ‘A boy from the Streets.’ During that time, I have also been working on a number of other WIP’s which are in the pipeline. I don’t fit into any neat genres where my writing is concerned, I am a ‘pantser' and write anything that comes into my head. So my books range from thrillers, to romance, from paranormal, time slip to contemporary women’s fiction.

I started reading as soon as I was able to and followed on by writing soon after. My biggest influence as a child was Enid Blyton who taught me that books were an escape to new and exciting worlds. I love reading books from a wide spectrum of genres, if the cover attracts me and the blurb stacks up then I want to read the book. When I’m not reading or writing, or doing my full-time job I enjoy travelling, crafting, horse-riding and riding my motorbike.

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PRE-ORDER BLAST: Saving Grace by Aubrey Wynne

SAVING GRACEPart of the Enchanted Keepsakes series
by Aubrey WynneGenre: Supernatural Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Sexy Scribblers


The ghost of the Pungo Witch meets a shattered heart.

Jackson Hahn, Virginia Beach's local historian, has his eyes on the mysterious new woman in town. When she enters his office, he is struck by her haunting beauty and the raw pain in her eyes. Her descriptions of the odd events happening in her bungalow pique his curiosity.

Chloe Hicks' life consisted of an egocentric ex-husband, a pile of bills, and an equine business in foreclosure until a fire destroys the stable and her beloved ranch horse. What little hope she has left is smashed after the marshal suspects arson. She escapes the accusing eyes of her hometown, but not the memories and melancholy.

The sexy historian distracts Chloe with the legend of a woman wrongly accused of witchcraft. She is drawn to the story and the similarities of events that plagued their lives. Perhaps the past can help heal the present. But danger lurks in the shadows...


Chapter 1

January, 2006 Four Seasons Riding Stable 

Chloe sat straight up, willing the fog in her head to dissipate. The bed sheets were twisted around her ankles. Sweat trickled down her back. The terror froze her limbs while she struggled to calm her thudding heart and listen for the sound all horse owners dread. But it was the smell that made her realize this was not a terrible dream.

Smoke.

Instinct took over and she scrambled from the four-poster, making a beeline for the back door and the barn. Her toe smacked against the corner of a wall as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Oh god, not my babies. Not Bunny. Panic weighed down her legs as her bare feet hit the gravel. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She tried to run down the long driveway, her eyes riveted to the red-orange flames shooting up into the black sky. Paul emerged from the darkness, his face colored yellow from the fiery glow. He signaled for her to take the front of the building as he disappeared around the back.

The frigid night air slapped her awake, but a horrifying screech from a panicked horse kicked in her adrenaline. Chloe reached the big, sliding doors and tugged them open. Heat smacked her face, and the smoke assaulted her lungs. Coughing, tears running down her cheeks, she slid back the bolts and opened the stall doors. On the other side, Paul’s voice faintly reached her over the crackle that filled her ears.

“Hiya! Move it, move it.”

The fire had consumed the other half of the barn where the arena was located. Above her was the loft, filled with winter hay and the last of her savings, now adding fuel to the already intense blaze. She pushed the thought from her mind as the flames shot through the center of the alleyway and the arena caved in.

Grabbing one of the lead ropes that hung at each door, she smacked the first horse on the rump and sent him flying out of the barn. The first three horses on each side followed their stable mates into safety with little persuasion. But Duchess, her mother’s old mare, wouldn’t budge. Chloe threw the lead rope over her neck and forced a calm tone. “Easy, girl. That’s my girl. Walk on, now. Walk on.”

The old horse snorted and pranced but followed her out of the stall. When they neared the opening, she withdrew the rope and whacked Duchess’ hindquarters. With a leap, the horse disappeared into the gray haze. The acrid odor of scorched hair and burnt wood filled her nostrils. Embers popped and her cheek blistered. She wiped at it with her shoulder as she led two more horses out by hand.Crack!

Above them, a beam gave way and formed a fiery V. The horses must have sensed it also because they lunged ahead, snapping Chloe’s shoulders forward. She struggled to maintain her balance but fell to the matted floor, her knees striking the hard rubber. A boom behind her sent a spray of sparks, and pain shot along her backside. From the corner of her eye, she saw a strand of her hair spark. Frantically, she beat at it with her bare hand, putting it out on her neck. The heat was sweltering now. Images wavered in the flames that licked at the dry timbers of the remaining stalls and the heavy beams above.

Scrambling to her feet, Chloe ran outside into the frigid night and stumbled down the drive to help Paul. As she reached the other side of the barn, she doubled over as a coughing spasm racked her body. Hands on her knees, gasping to pull air into her tight chest, she heard Paul yelling over the crackle and whinnies.

“Bunny won’t leave the stall, and won’t let me near her foal.”

“What about Jack?”

“He’s good. C’mon, the roof is gonna give.”

His hand tightened around her arm and pulled with such force her feet almost left the ground. Plunging back into the smoking hell, they entered Bunny’s stall and found the foal in the corner.

“Paul, I’ll get the foal then Bunny will follow.”

Another loud snap from above. She grabbed the lead rope dangling from the horse’s halter and handed it to the trainer. Running a palm down her mare’s neck, she spoke soothingly, “Atta girl, Bunny. There’s my girl. Let’s your get your baby out of here.” The mare’s ears perked at her voice and words. Chloe tossed a rope around the foal’s neck and pulled. The baby gave to the pressure and followed Chloe out.

Behind her, a loud, splintering crash was followed by a shrill squeal. Her stomach twisted as she turned to see her trainer pulling at the lead rope. A fiery beam pinned Bunny as she thrashed, her legs flying in the air. One hoof caught the man in the head, and he crumpled to the ground.

Fighting for air, her chest a tight ball of agony, Chloe stumbled back in and grabbed Paul under his arms. She dragged him with the last of her strength and shuffled backwards until her feet tripped on something solid. She fell, his body tangled in her legs as they both landed with a thud. A sob ripped at her raw throat at the sound of a muffled shriek. Tears spilled down her burning cheeks as she shook the lifeless body on top of her. Chloe collapsed hand rested on Paul’s chest, finding hope in the slight rise and fall of his shallow breathing. In the back of her brain, the sound of sirens wailed before the world went black.



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Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule and barn cats. She is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. Obsessions include history, travel, trail riding and all things Christmas.

Her short stories, Merry Christmas, Henry and Pete's Mighty Purty Privies have won Readers Choice Awards and Dante's Gift received the 2016 Golden Quill and Heart of Excellence award, as well as being a Maggie and Aspen Gold finalist.

Besides her Chicago Christmas novellas, Aubrey will release "A Vintage Romance" series inspired by tales of her stepfather, who served for the British Air Force in WWII. The stories will be set in the 40s & 50s. Her medieval fantasy series will launch in 2017 with Rolf's Quest.

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A place of handsome knights, dashing gentlemen, beautiful, sassy women, and romance from the past to the present. You’ll also have some opportunities to help promote Aubrey with her upcoming releases if you feel so inclined. There is fun to be had, prizes to be given, and heroes and heroines to fall in love with. Come join Aubrey's street team.

RELESE TOUR: ABbey's Search for Sanctuary by Eris Field

ABBEY'S SEARCH FOR SANCTUARYDestiny: Choice or Chance, book 1
by Eris FieldGenre: Contemporary International Romance


Abbey’s Search for Sanctuary, Stand-alone Book One of Destiny: Choice or Chance Trilogy. A riveting story of violence against women including baby girls and those who fight to protect them.

Turkish-American nurse Abbey shelters her younger sister after she divorces her Muslim husband when she learns his mother is going to perform a circumcision on their baby girl, Jenny. When her sister is murdered by her ex-husband, Abbey knows she must find a way to keep Jenny safe.

Once a Peshmerga fighter and medic with the Kurdish forces in Iraq, Rami now works with refugees in Buffalo. Shunned by his grandfather and family for failing to demand retribution when his arranged marriage failed, Rami avoids emotional attachments. That is, until he meets Abbey.

Warning Abbey that honor killings are often family affairs and she and Jenny are in danger, Rami offers her a way out: a marriage of convenience and refuge in his homeland, Kurdistan.

Abbey is committed to doing anything to protect Jenny but can she face going back to the world of her childhood: a world of headscarves and submission, a world that scarred her mother and killed her sister, a world she escaped once?

“Relationship!” Abbey exploded. “There is no relationship between a Muslim man and a woman. He’s the owner and she’s his property. She’s not even a second class citizen in her own country.”

“It’s never been that way for Kurdish women. They have never covered their faces or worn those black shrouds. Some choose to wear headscarves and some don’t. They wear brightly colored clothing. They like colors, especially amethyst” He became more serious. “They have fought alongside their husbands for centuries. They believe it’s better to die in battle beside their husband than be raped as one of the spoils of war.” He spoke more calmly, “Women are pushing for changes. They want to get rid of polygamy, forced early marriages, and female genital mutilation. . . . We’ve talked about what we don’t want. Now we must learn what each wants in life. Tell me what’s important to you.”
“A family. I’ve always dreamed of having a family.” She felt a blush creep over her cheeks but she forged on. “Not just two children. A real family, at least four children.”

“You say ‘at least’?”

She lifted her eyes to his. “Do the math! I am twenty-six. I would be very fortunate if I had four babies.”

“What else is important to you?”

“I want to stay me.” She hurried on at the sound of his glass hitting the table. “I remember when my mother and father lived here, in Buffalo. She was happy. They laughed together and did things together.” She shifted and sat back on her heels in front of him. “When my father took us back to Turkey, to Gaziantep, it all changed.”

“How did it change?” Rami asked somberly.

“There were so many things she couldn’t do.” Abbey choked up. “She had to have my father’s permission for everything! My mother couldn’t go out alone, not even to go shopping. She couldn’t drive the car. She had no money of her own and no friends. Slowly, the beautiful, happy mother I had known changed. When her father finally was able to bring her home, to his home in Orchard Park, she was just a shadow of herself, worn away by the rules. She brought Jeyda and me with her but she had to leave my little brother in Turkey . . . with his father.” Her voice broke as she reached for her wineglass. “The same thing happened to my sister. She met her husband when she was teaching at the University at Buffalo and he was a graduate student from Egypt. Before they were married, they did everything together. Then, when they were married, it changed.”

“Tell me. Did your sister help him get his ‘green card’ so he could stay in this country?”

“Yes. She was so much in love. She wanted to do everything to please him.”

Abbey wrapped her arms around herself. “I tried to warn her . . .Almost instantly after they were married, everything changed. Jeyda could not go out of the house without his permission. She had no money. He took away her credit cards and cell phone. He didn’t want me to visit her.” She reached involuntarily for his hand and felt him lace his fingers with hers. “He did not want her to talk to me on the phone. I begged her to leave him but she was pregnant and afraid." Abbey shuddered. “I didn’t think she would have ever left him but when she learned they were going to cut baby Jenny . . ."




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As a seventeen year old student nurse at Albany Hospital, Eris met a Turkish surgical intern who told her fascinating stories about the history of Turkey, the loss of the Ottoman Empire, and forced population exchanges.

After they married and moved to Buffalo, Eris worked as a nurse at Children’s Hospital and at Roswell Park Cancer Institute. During the time she took time off to raise five children, she amassed a collection of rejection letters for her short stories. Later, Eris returned to school and earned her master’s degree in Psychiatric Nursing at the University at Buffalo. While teaching psychiatric nursing at the University, she wrote a textbook for psychiatric nurse practitioners—a wonderful, rewarding but never to be repeated experience.

Now, Eris writes novels, usually international, contemporary romances. Her interest in history and her experience in psychiatry often play a part in her stories. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the Western New York Romance Writers. In addition to writing, Eris’ interests include: Prevention of Psychiatric Disorders; Eradicating Honor Killings, supporting the Crossroads Springs Orphanage in Kenya for children orphaned by AIDS, and learning more about Turkey, Cyprus, and Kurdistan.

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PROMO BOOST: A Risky Dance Series by Monika Summerville

A RISKY DANCE SERIESby Monika SummervilleGenre: Erotic Romance


[Siren Allure: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, sex toys, HEA] Riley Frost is an attorney. He played in the BDSM community as a Dom and liked to be in control. He'd never found a woman with a sense of adventure and passion, until one night when he walked into a bar and... Sophie Pantagen is the vice-president of her father's company, Pantagen Industries. For the past ten years she's spent a couple evenings a month having one-offs with men whose names she never new. That was until one night in a bar when Riley and Sophie find each other at a time when both are looking for something. They're not sure what it is they want, but think they may have found it. Sophie's father is a cut-throat business man and when he thinks Sophie tells company secrets he comes after her with vengeance. Pantagen Industries begins to fall apart. Sophie is fired from her position and threatened by her father with an Edgar Allen Poe nightmare result. ** A Siren Erotic Romance

Riley Frost walked through the front door at Fellow’s Bar and Grill and, Ben, the bartender, waved. He nodded and sat down on a barstool at the end. The room wasn’t overly crowed and there were enough women in the place that he thought he’d come out on top. He hoped to find a nice curvy woman to curl up with for the night. The noise and laughter helped bring his tension down a notch.

Ben walked to his end and set a glass of Loch Lomand single-malt-whiskey in front of him. It was Riley’s favorite and the bar kept it stocked for him.

“My headache thanks you, Ben.” He accepted the glass.

“Steven should be back from a break shortly, Mr. Frost. Care for a game of chess?” the bartender asked. “It would give me a chance to win back some of my losses from last month.”

“Perhaps. I’m a little on the prowl tonight. Is it too late to get a pulled pork sandwich or something?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Riley nodded, picked up his glass and a newspaper off the end of the bar, and walked over to an empty table.

Ben came out from behind the bar. “We can do the sandwich. Chef wants to know if you want coleslaw, chips, or fries?”

“Chips are fine. There’s no need to heat up the fryer.”

“Good.” Ben smiled and went back to the kitchen.

Riley read through the headlines on the front page of the paper and then heard the front door open. A woman about five-foot-ten walked in and went straight to the bar. He did a double take and found it hard to take his eyes off of her.

She wore an emerald green, mini-tank dress that had lace in all the right places. It hugged her hips tightly and when she turned to the bar, he saw it had no back. The sides were cut low under her arms and the curve of her breasts showed just enough. Her long, brown hair would slide side to side when she moved and he thought he saw a scar on the middle of her back. Her legs alone caused Riley’s cock to stir and he thought he may have found his catch for the night.

An older man with dark-graying hair walked up to her. Riley almost started to crack up laughing. The guy wore his hair in a fluffy 80s style cut and had a walrus mustache. The woman smiled and spoke with him. The man put his hand on her arm and she peeled it off and shook her head.

“Woo...turn down, dude. Things are looking very good,” Riley said to himself, and took a sip of his whiskey.

Ben brought his sandwich over and set the plate down on the table. Riley stopped him from leaving.

“The woman at the bar, dead center, with the green dress and brown hair, what can you tell me?”

The bartender looked over his shoulder and nodded. “She is gorgeous, but I think she may be a professional.”

“Really?” Riley felt a bit surprised. She looked too classy to be a hooker.

“I don’t know it for a fact, but she comes in here every other week or so and never leaves alone.”

“Good, her drink’s on me, Ben.” He’d never seen her before and he spent a lot of time at Fellow’s.“I’ll see to it. She’s a single-malt woman. May I give her some of the Lomand?”

“Very good idea.” Riley nodded and started to eat his food.

He saw Ben walk behind the bar and prepare the drink. The woman still spoke to the 80s throw back. The bartender put the drink in front of her and pointed toward Riley. She looked over her shoulder just as he slid a potato chip into his mouth. Her eyebrow arched and she turned back to Ben and pushed the glass back at him. They exchanged a few words and the woman picked up the drink and walked toward Riley.

She set the glass down and leaned over with her hand on the table. Riley had a perfect view of the tops of her breasts and he almost lost his breath.

“I don’t accept drinks from strangers, but thank you.” She straightened up.

“Why don’t you have a seat? I’m Riley Frost, now we’re not strangers anymore.”

She stared at him for a moment with caramel colored eyes and then turned back to the bar. He admired her rear and his cock became hard as a rock, it wanted her so much. She is mine, he thought.

As she slid onto a stool, she motioned for Ben to bring another drink.

The other man sat next to her and continued to make his moves. He tried to put his hand on her thigh and she moved it.

Riley stood, finished his drink, and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He took a bill out and picked up the full glass of whiskey she’d left on his table. On her left side, he moved between her and Mr. Walrus Mustache, to crowd the guy away from her. Riley put the cold glass against her bare back.

She sat up, leaned into his hand, and looked at him over her shoulder. Riley didn’t look back, but flagged Ben. He handed the bartender a one-hundred dollar bill and then leaned toward the woman.

He moved his lips to a millimeter from hers and whispered, “The Loch Lomand is a thousand times better than that swill you’ve got. Have a lovely evening.” He brushed his lips over hers and let his hand slide over her breast as he set the drink in front of her. Her nipple felt hard as a bullet. He smiled and started toward the door.

Oh yeah, I give her less than five minutes. She’s mine, he thought. He went out the door, turned left and stood at the corner of the building.




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[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romantic Suspense, HEA] Turner Black works for a group in Seattle that helps find people who were separated from loved ones for one reason or another. He’s hired to find the half-sister of a man, Stewart Tarver. Their shared father has passed away and left the half-sister part of a large inheritance.

Turner finds Rae Smith. She works as a stripper at a dance club in Tracy, California. She always wanted to be a ballet dancer, but the death of her mother took that dream away and Rae started to strip when she turned eighteen years of age. From one club to another, she is happy to just survive.

Turner and Rae are drawn to each other and, although the sex is great, she isn’t big on commitments and doesn’t want to deal with the inheritance game. And someone tries to kill her and then kidnaps her for sale to a slave trader in Hong Kong. Will she be able to trust Turner?

Turner found her performance one of the best he’d seen and this trip turned out to be worth it. She definitely could be the Rae he’d searched for. He could see the little girl who held the stuffed rabbit from the old picture.

He showed his investigators badge to the bartender and explained that he needed to speak to her. The owner came out and asked him why. All Turner told the man was that her brother looked for her due to a death in the family.

After about a half hour, she came out from behind the stage. Her hair was tied up in a Scrunchy and she wore tight jeans with a pale blue cable knit sweater. Instead of the three inch spiked heels she had on a pair of flat tennis-shoes.

She walked up to the bar alone and sat on a stool two down from him. “Jake told me why you’re here. I think you may have me confused with someone else. I don’t have a brother.”

“My name is Turner Black and I’ve been hired by your half-brother, Stewart Tarver, to find you, Miss Sibley.” He looked at her as she leaned over the counter and snagged a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. She really was gorgeous and he admired her ass as she moved back down to the stool. Her eyes were a light carmel color and she had a little sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

“The name is Smith, not whatever you just said.” She took a sip from the shot glass.

Turner took the old picture out of his pocket. She looked at it. He watched her and saw her eyes squint. It was a dead giveaway and he’d learned how to read people over the years.

When she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, he knew she remembered that photo.

“According to your half-brother, this picture was one of the few times you met him and your father.” He knew by the look in her eyes it was familiar.

She pushed it back at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black. It’s not ringing any bells.”

This goddamn woman is stubborn, Turner thought.

****

When Rae looked at the picture she saw a little girl with a stuffed rabbit in one hand and an older boy stood next to her and held her other hand. That stupid rabbit was the only thing she had left of her mother and would never give it away.

“I think it does ring bells, Miss Sibley.”

“Smith, as I said. I’m Rae Smith.”

“Your father passed away about a year ago and your half-brother’s looked for you since.”

“Mr. Black, I never met my father or any brother. I’m an only child. My mother died when I was twelve. I’ve been on my own ever since. She never said anything to me about a brother.” She swallowed the vodka and put the lid back onto the bottle.

“Miss Smith, I know your history.”

“You know nothing about me.” She slid off the stool and started back to the dressing room. Grabbing her jacket and bag, she walked out the back door of the building, rounded a corner and there stood Mr. Black by a dark grey Toyota Prius. Good gas mileage, she thought, arched her eyebrow and started to walk past him.

“Miss Smith, could I give you a ride home?”

“No thanks,” she said and kept moving down the sidewalk.

The engine started in the car and she realized he followed her. When she got to the corner, she stopped and looked at him.

“So, you’re a stalker and all that other story was bullshit?” She bent at the waist and looked at him through the window.

“No, I’m not a stalker. Can I buy you some coffee? There is more to explain.”

She started across the street and as he motored through, she turned left and headed another direction. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, but if she cut through the alley, she could go in the back way. He wouldn’t be able to follow her.

She saw a light flash in the corner of her eye and looked over her shoulder. Her pace picked up and the alley turned about one-hundred feet away.

“Look, what do you have to lose? You’d be able to finally open that dance school you always wanted,” he shouted from the car window.

Rae stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. There wasn’t any way possible he could know what she wanted.




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[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romance, HEA] Jarrah Hejazi is an ex-Marine, who defended his country and now owns a security company. He's worked, but forgot to live. On a visit with friends at Safe Haven, he meets Grace McKay and a boy named Jonah. Haven is a place where street kids get help and feel safe. Little does Hejazi know that within a couple of months his life will change one-hundred percent. Grace McKay, an ex-marine, works at Haven. She'd heard the owners talk about their friend Hejazi and when they meet, there's more she wants to know. Hejazi and Grace surrender to their attraction and work to find the brother of Jonah. The brother was taken by Feathertop, who gives street kids a safe place to live and then trains them to pick pockets, rob cars and homes. Dealing with a team member off the grid, and being chased by people who want them dead, Hejazi and Grace have to figure a way to keep it together. ** A Siren Erotic Romance

“How did you fair, Jarrah?” Rae asked.

“The kid beat me twenty out of thirty games.” He looked over his shoulder. “I have some information.”

Grace followed them out of the room and down a hallway toward the offices. He stopped and lowered his voice. “His name is Jonah Sullivan and he’s eleven years old. He has a brother named Jacob who’s fourteen. They were dumped at a park and ride in Reno by their mother and after they lived on the street for a few days met some guy named Feathertop who brought them to Sacramento.”

“Unbelievable, the kid's been with us for six weeks and all we knew was his nickname.” Rae shook her head.

“This guy Feathertop gives them the nicknames and insists they use them always.”

“I’ve heard of that guy. He’s sort of like Fagin in Oliver Twist. He promises them food, safety and in exchange they’re taught to pick pockets, steal purses and I’ve even heard they’ve robbed some houses,” Grace said.

“I was over in Sacramento this morning and think I may have seen his crew. We were protecting the singer Veronda and I don’t know how many worked the crowd, but they were good.”

“Let me see what I can find out about Jonah Sullivan.” Rae looked toward her office.

“It’s sad. I mean, to be dumped by your mom and then his brother brought him here and told him to wait until he came back. Poor kid.” Hejazi shook his head.

Grace now found she admired this man’s heart. He felt for Kit.

“Turner will be here to pick me up around five-thirty, oh and Grace will be joining us.” Rae grinned.

She wanted to crawl into the carpet and hide. When she looked at Hejazi, he smiled.

“Great, I won’t be a third wheel,” he said.

Grace stared at his dark eyes and realized she couldn’t determine what color they were. They were either black or dark brown, but they mesmerized her and when she became aware that he stared back, she blushed.

“Rae, could I ride with you and Mr. Black?” she asked.

“You could ride with me. I don’t know my way around here and you can direct me,” Hejazi said before Rae could answer.

Grace smiled. “Sounds good.”

“I should go find a place to stay the night. How about I meet you out front at five o’clock?”

“That’s fine.”

****

Hejazi found a Holiday Inn and booked the room for the next five days. He wanted to spend some more time with that kid, Jonah, and see if he could find out more about Feathertop. He also wanted to get to know Grace McKay.

With his connections to the military and feds he could easily find out about her, but decided he’d rather get the low down direct from the source.

It was over fifteen years since he’d been with his last girlfriend. On his first tour of duty, when he’d gone home to Chicago for two weeks leave, his girl, Marissa, acted strange when they met back up. After a couple of days, she’d told him that she’d fallen in love with an insurance salesman. The news kicked him in the balls and he’d decided to put his time and energy into the Marine Corps’ and starting his security group. He never wanted to feel his heart tear in half again.

Fifteen years passed with a blink of an eye and this coming October he’d turn forty years old. He’d gotten to a point where he could monitor the business from wherever he decided to live. The men in his group could handle the job professionally and didn’t need him to be present all the time.

Grace McKay was a beautiful woman and ex-military which gave them something in common. Her height caught his attention, too. His six-foot-five build made it difficult to date smaller women, not that he dated. The fleeting thought that he wouldn’t have to bend at the waist to kiss Grace made him smile while he shaved. Their bodies might even fit together nice and snug, too.

He looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re putting your cart way before your horse, asshole. She’s probably married,” he said to his reflection. “Or she’s involved with someone and you won’t have a chance. You have work to do in a month and don’t need the aggravation.”




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MIDNIGHT WEARY @ Siren Books

Ian Deatherage’s past is a shadow. He’s doesn’t make friends traveling from place to place on his motorcycle. When it breaks down he has twenty dollars in his pocket, he’ll have to find a job to pay for the repairs.

Kris Marcus is the owner of The Scamp. She offers Ian a bouncer job. Ian works for a week and the relationship between he and Kris builds and boils over into a night of hot passion. His words to her - I don’t do gentle - turns out fine. She isn’t used to soft touches.

Ian and Kris dance around each other and find a hot attraction. She figures once his motorcycle is fixed he’ll leave area and wants to protect herself. He doesn’t know committed relationships and isn’t sure what to do.

After several weeks of burning sex, Ian convinces Kris that he doesn’t want to leave. Will she let him stay or watch him go?


One of her hands moved to his shoulder and her nails dug into his skin. She felt him jerk under her and he swatted her hand away.

“You keep that up and I’ll have to put you over my knee,” he said and then bit the tender skin on her breast and flicked the nipple. “You want to ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

The thumb on his hand kept alternating the pace and Kris realized the power shifted. Ian now held all the cards and she didn’t mind one bit. He could do this to her all day long.

When his hand moved away from her crotch, her eyes popped open. “What…don’t stop.”

He palmed her breast. “I want your mouth again. Come here.” His mouth covered hers and they both started to breathe hard. She didn’t think she’d be able to catch her breath right for the rest of the day. His lips, tongue and teeth devoured hers and she thought it could be the best kiss she’d ever experienced.



Monika Summerville is an avid reader, loves good tense movies, and works hard on her writing. She lives in Western Washington State with her four cats, Agamemnon, Tazmania, Jasper and Jericho.

She has written A Risky Dance and A Lost Dance for Siren BookStrand. The third book - A Flame Dance - is available now.

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RELEASE TOUR: Tender Echoes by Reily Garrett

TENDER ECHOESA Dark Prequel to Digital Velocity (The McAllister Justice Series Book 1)
by Reily GarrettGenre: Suspense/Thriller


Theft of spirit is no one’s birthright.

A quirk of her X chromosome furnished Alexis with an edge few others enjoyed. After fate plunged her into orphan status and an intolerable foster home forced her to the streets, a group of prostitutes sheltered her from their vicious pimp. Seeing something special within, they nurtured and shielded her from their harsh reality until she could forge her own path in life.

Destiny frequently takes us back to our roots. Lexi’s return journey begins when a serial killer attacks one of her adopted sisters. Relying on courage and wit, she must stay a step ahead and secure evidence to free her family from a psychopathic murderer.

“Jesus, Charlie. Hold on. I’ll get you to a hospital.” Lexi swallowed hard against the rising tide of acid degrading her throat’s lining as the unfolding scene corrupted her sanity. Pressure against the makeshift bandage on Charlie’s belly wound yielded a deeper crimson soaking her jacket, the provisional dressing secured by fingers encased in a thickening, sticky glove. So much blood.

This could’ve been Lexi’s fate—stabbed, slashed, disfigured for all time, blood forming rivulets pooling in the alley’s filth. Maroon puddles mingled with body fluids common to alleys sheltering the homeless as if destined to couple in a macabre, virulent concoction.

“R-run, Lexi. D-don’t let him make you a w-whore. I wasn’t—strong enough. Y-you were never p-part of the street life.” Trash and other filth from the narrow passageway cushioned Charlie’s bruised and battered head. One front tooth was missing, probably swallowed, while blood seeped from jagged slashes on her cheeks and brow, both career enders in the event she survived. “You shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake to text you, but the cops wouldn’t believe us girls.”

“Did your pimp do this, Charlie? What’s his real name?” Tell me so I can help you.

Remnants of a cardboard box, a vagabond’s homemade privy, retained odors of the dispossessed, rivaled only by the excrement saturating every molecule of thickened air drawn into her lungs. This was no place and no way to die.

“Yeah—said I stole from a customer. But I didn’t. The b-bastard just wanted a freebie.” Otherworldly pain glazed eyes forecasting a nonexistent future while icy wind leached color from a once-beautiful face now smeared with crimson streaks and pain. “Won’t tell you his name. I didn’t want to die alone. You’re f-free. You made it.”

“No, Charlie. I’ll get help. Lie still while I secure a pressure dressing.” This late at night, there’d be few cars to flag down and no foot traffic from which to enlist help. She was forced to rely on emergency personnel who’d classify the incident as NHI, no human involved.

Terror-induced flashbacks spewed forth of a stranger offering refuge to a teenager standing on a precipice, a choice. She’d first thought him relatively handsome, not understanding the slimy base of his character. She’d had no experience with pimps. Still, something inside steered her away from his pleasant façade. Perhaps she’d sensed his underlying character. Instinct had directed her to the unknown, where a small group of prostitutes offered shelter and nurtured her mind.

With one hand, Lexi freed her belt and maneuvered it under the fallen girl’s tiny waist amid groans and mewling cries. Youth and a livelihood from flatbacking necessitated a svelte figure, which facilitated her efforts to cinch the leather strap tight. Lexi reached for the cell clutched in Charlie’s hand, knowing the late hour meant a longer wait for help. Her fingers, covered in sticky crimson ropes of blood, tangled briefly with Charlie’s, a squishy squeeze to lend encouragement. Another bolus of acid rose in her throat.

“No.” One word spoken from the disembodied voice behind her could flash freeze Hell and instigate the formation of ice crystals in any world, under any circumstance.




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DIGITAL VELOCITYCOMING APRIL 24!

“Digital Velocity is a fast-paced romantic suspense thriller that sophisticatedly weaves drama, excitement, grit, raw emotions and mystery. Garrett takes her readers on a journey where suspense and romance are taken up several notches as she unfolds and reveals the identity of a murderer that is on the loose. With her vivid prose, Garrett entices readers to see the bond that is brewing between Detective Ethan McAllister and his unlikely informant.” Michelle Tan, RT Book Reviews

Keyboard prodigy, Lexi Donovan has risen from teenage orphan of the streets to complete independence with little help along the way. When a friend is threatened, Lexi’s anonymous message sends police into a firefight, leading to a wounded cop.

Detective Ethan McAllister’s well-ordered life turned upside down the day an obscure text message led to a sexual predator’s identity. Since then, Callouston PD’s finest can’t trace the elusive hacker. The latest tip leads him to a brutal mutilation and a riddle indicating the identity of the next murder victim.

The dark net houses a playground for the morally depleted and criminally insane. When Lexi discovers the killer’s digital betting arena, she finds herself centered in a cyber stalker’s crosshairs bearing equal talent.

Street life strengthened Lexi while toughening her protective shell, but nothing could shield her from the shrewd detective forging a path to her heart.



Reily’s employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction.

Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed…after the kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.

In life, hobbies can come and go according to our physical abilities, but you can always enjoy a good book. Life isn’t perfect, but our imaginations can be. Relax, whether it’s in front of a fire or in your own personal dungeon. Take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.

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