Lisa Bilbrey's Blog, page 17

RELEASE TOUR: The Stranger's Voice by Grace Harper

THE STRANGER'S VOICEby Grace HarperGenre: Contemporary Romance


“Can you hear me?”

Adaline Starling needs a new tenant for the flat above her store, and Callum Hague needs somewhere to live.

Adaline is a genius, hiding in a magazine store, she has never opened. She is trying to convince the world that she is whole, that there is nothing wrong with her.

Callum Hague likes to fix things, preferably thousands of miles away from his hometown. He’s returned from a year long project in Nairobi where he has built a school.

They both have hidden imperfections that have shaped their lives from childhood. If they were left to their own devices, they would both become reclusive.

Their best friends think they would be perfect for each other and set about fixing them up.

It takes a serious incident for them to confess their invisible flaws, but will they accept each other’s hidden imperfection?

With supporting characters that include a cheeky apprentice and an overbearing charity chairwoman.Will Adaline turn a deaf ear to everyone’s advice to own her imperfections?


“Sod him. Does that mean your flat is available to rent?” Steph asked me, she stared intently on my reactions. I made a fish impression, trying to break her scrutiny, she only lasted thirty seconds before breaking into fits of giggles. I raised my eyebrows still making the fish an impression with my lips. My cheeks hollowed out, and I increased the tempo of my lips moving up and down. Steph threw her cloth napkin at me, and I grinned.

“Why do you want to know?” I leaned forward, my eyes wide, raising one eyebrow. I knew what she was up to, she reeked of a cunning plan. It was written all over her sheepish looking face. I threw her napkin back at her, folded my arms under my breasts and waited for her to answer.

Steph straightened up and took a deep breath. “Eliott’s best friend has just come home from overseas. He stays with us, but after a day, he feels uncomfortable imposing on us. We’d have him there forever, but he thinks because we’ve been married less than a year, we should have the freedom to have sex wherever and whenever we feel like it. He thinks that him being around will dampen our sex life.

“That’s pretty considerate. Is this person good looking?” I asked. I don’t want a hot guy moving into the flat opposite mine. I don’t need the distraction. I’d never met a handsome man who wasn’t an arsehole.

“No, I don’t think so,” she frowned and looked up to the sky for divine help. “No, definitely not handsome.”

“You’re a shit liar. Is he rich?”

I thought rich, handsome men were the worst kind. I should know, my university was full of them. Steph had fixed me up on a few dates with her friends. All of them stunning in the looks department and had a decent bank balance. All of them rude, arrogant and self-centred. I had no interest in those kinds of men. Give me a poor, plain looking man, any day of the week. So long as he had rugby player thighs.

“Um,” she pondered this question, looking left and right. Who, she thought was going to help her with the question I had no idea. Unless she hoped the seagulls sauntering around our table knew the answer.

“Let me make this easier. Is he richer than the Beckhams?”

“Um,” she paused again.

“Bloody hell Steph, you had to think about that? Why the hell would you be trying to get him to rent the flat if he’s minted?” Irritated temporarily I took a swig of my latte, only to find it freezing cold. Politeness dictated that I swallowed the liquid. My upbringing would have had me spitting out on the paving stones next to us. The term, dragged up, applied to me.

“He is really down to earth, normal like you, Eliott and me. You won’t regret letting him move in, I promise.” Steph commenced fluttering of her eyelashes, blowing me smooch kisses and clasping her hands in a begging motion.

“I want to interview him first, if he passes my strict questions, then he can move in. But, the flat is a state. Jeff left it in a real mess, the doors are hanging off the hinges in the kitchen, the carpet needs replacing. None of which I can afford. The shop is a money pit too. I need to sell a decent comic to finish the renovations.”

“Did I mention, he’s a carpenter?”





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British author who loves to write about strong women and handsome men. She writes steamy romance novels that will warm your heart.

Writer of the Brodie Saga and the Geary Series, Grace immerses you in stories of love, or rather, love's pursuit to bring together two people who were meant for each other. It's not always quick or easy but it will happen eventually.

When Grace is not writing, she can be found mooching about in stationery stores. Grace might have a Maltesers addiction but is not ready to stand up and own that just yet.

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RELEASE BLAST: Her Secret Ranger: The Men of At Ease Ranch, Book 2 by Donna Michaels

HER SECRET RANGERThe Men of At Ease Ranch, book 2
by Donna MichaelsPublisher: Entangled Lovestruck
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy


Kissing the sexy soldier was a dare she couldn’t resist…

By-the-book event planner Beth Brannigan’s best friend dared her to kiss a cowboy. She should have said no. Instead, she said please…again and again. If her brother finds out she’s dating—okay, kissing—okay, sleeping with—one of his military buddies, he’ll kill her. Assuming he doesn’t kill his friend first.

Former Army Ranger Brick Mitchum isn’t a relationship kind of guy. But then he meets Beth and starts to wonder if maybe it’s time he settled down. She’s mysterious. Unpredictable. Curvy in every way he needs… And hiding something. He’s just got to figure out what.


The best damn fantasy Brick Mitchum ever had hit him in the middle of the Braxton fair, of all places…and he was in no hurry for it to end. The gorgeous, green-eyed woman from two weekends ago miraculously appeared out of nowhere and laid a lip-lock on him that sent all the blood storming straight to his crotch.

She had to be a figment of his imagination. How else could he explain how they were both back in Braxton today and happened to bump into each other at the fair in a town of over forty-thousand people? The odds of them being there at the same exact time was not only impossible, it was improbable. It sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence. He didn’t believe in them.

And yet, here she was.

The sweet little thing nibbled and tasted and let out a breathy sigh of pleasure that had him harder than the sledgehammer used in the strongman game down the fairway. Part innocence and part hot-as-hell in a lacey peach sundress, Beth was already halfway to ringing his bell. Doing his best to keep cool and let her run the show, he tried to concentrate on the fact Cord was waiting for him at the auction, but then she went and brushed his bottom lip with her tongue.

During the eleven years he was in the Army—the last eight as a Ranger—Brick had planned and carried out enough missions to know that if you wanted something to happen, you made it happen. And, hell yeah, he was making this happen.

With a low growl, he shoved his hands in her soft caramel-colored waves and held her head while he took over the kiss. Deep, long passes with his tongue brought her essence to him and a soft whimper to her throat. He loved how she clung to his shoulders, practically climbing his body in a show of need that rivaled his own. Brick knew from their hot weekend they had a killer chemistry, but the way this simple kiss morphed out of control in the space of a heartbeat shocked the hell out of him.

All too soon she drew back, staring up at him with heat smoldering in those incredible eyes he hadn’t been able to get out of his head the past two weeks. He’d tried. Oh, he tried. After all, they’d had a fun, no-strings-attached fling. Nothing more. Hell, they hadn’t even exchanged last names. No need. They’d kept it light. Fun. Hot. He might have broken his one-date rule with her, but he wasn’t sticking around Texas. Once the ranch was in the clear and the veterans’ barracks were completed, he was Vegas bound to work in his former commander’s security firm.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the moment at hand, though.

“Well, hello to you, too.” He grinned as his hands made themselves at home at her waist. They certainly knew every inch of her delectable body. And itched for a reunion. “I’m not complaining, mind you, but what was that for?”

Color increased in her cheeks. “It was a dare.”

A dare?

He raised a brow. The woman was full of surprises. “Someone dared you to kiss me?”

“Sort of. I was supposed to kiss the next cowboy to walk through the gate. I’m just grateful it was you.”

Well, hell. “You were willing to kiss a stranger?”

“No.” She released him completely and stepped back, a flicker of unease clouding her gaze. “I refused until you strode in and I saw an opportunity to make this work to my advantage.”




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Former Army Ranger Stone Mitchum doesn’t have time for sex. Since starting a company with his brother and two buddies, he’s had more important things on his mind. Like transitioning veterans back into society. But when his curvy new tenant falls into his arms—literally—his libido snaps to attention.

Jovy Larson has four weeks to prove she’s worthy of taking over the family business. Her challenge? Sell gluten-free, vegan food—in the middle of cattle country, Texas. It’s a tough task, but not half as tough as fighting her attraction to her sexy, surly landlord.

Before she knows it, Jovy’s tangling sheets with the hot cowboy, stalked by a jealous cow, and strategizing ways to help Stone’s ranch. But by the time her lease runs out and the test is over, she’s faced with a new challenge…competing against Stone’s sense of duty to win his heart.

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Donna Michaels is an award winning, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of Romaginative fiction. Her hot, humorous, and heartwarming stories include cowboys, men in uniform, and some sexy, primal alphas. With a husband in the military fulltime, and a household of nine, she never runs out of material to write, and has rightfully earned the nickname Lucy…and sometimes Ethel. From short to epic, her books entertain readers across a variety of sub-genres, and one has even being hand drawn into a Japanese translation. Now, if only she could read it.

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PROMO BOOST: Liberty by Kim Iverson Headlee

LIBERTYby Kim Iverson HeadleeGenre: Historical Romance (ancient Rome)


How hard would you fight for a chance at impossible love?

“Epic.” ~ Drue’s Random Chatter Reviews.

From the critically acclaimed, award-winning pen of Kim Iverson Headlee comes the thrilling, poignant tale of love across a vast social divide.

WINNER, 2015 BooksGoSocial Best Book.

Betrayed by her father and sold as payment of a Roman tax debt to fight in Londinium's arena, gladiatrix-slave Rhyddes feels like a wild beast in a gilded cage. Celtic warrior blood flows in her veins, but Roman masters own her body. She clings to her vow that no man shall claim her soul, though Marcus Calpurnius Aquila, son of the Roman governor, makes her yearn for a love she believes impossible.

Groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and trapped in a politically advantageous betrothal, Aquila prefers the purity of combat on the amphitheater sands to the sinister intrigues of imperial politics, and the raw power and athletic grace of the flame-haired Libertas to the adoring deference of Rome's noblewomen.

When a plot to overthrow Caesar ensnares them as pawns in the dark design, Aquila must choose between the Celtic slave who has won his heart and the empire to which they both owe allegiance. Trusting no man and knowing the opposite of obedience is death, the only liberty offered to any slave, Rhyddes must embrace her arena name, Libertas—and the love of a man willing to sacrifice everything to forge a future with her.



Marcus Calpurnius Aquila sprawled on his belly across the cushioned and linen-draped marble massage table, his head, arms, shins, and feet jutting over the table’s padded edges. As the male slave worked eucalyptus-scented unguent into the aching muscles, Marcus could feel the tensions of combat seep away.

Too bad the man couldn’t work out the knots in Marcus’s relationship with his father, Sextus Calpurnius Agricola, governor of Britannia province.

Citing “official business” yet again, Agricola had declined to witness Marcus’s gladiatorial bout in Londinium’s amphitheater this afternoon. His opponent had fought well, causing Marcus in his scanty armor to work up a sweat that, judging by the reverberating high-pitched cheers, had all the women swooning with delight.

Never mind that Marcus, who fought under his cognomen, Aquila, the Eagle, remained a perennial favorite with the crowd. Agricola never missed an opportunity to point out that his arena exhibitions—and the resulting private liaisons with adoring female spectators—flirted with the precipice of social acceptability and could damage Marcus’s political aspirations.

RELEASE TOUR: Broken Bastard by A.L. Simpson

BROKEN BASTARDby A.L. SimpsonGenre: Contemporary M/M Romance (heat level: hot)


Present Day

My name is Tyler Maxwell Alexander. I'm twenty-eight years old.

A few months ago, I had it all. An executive job in a prestigious investment firm owned by my father. Ha! Yeah, right - father. I'll explain about that later.

I lived in a waterfront apartment overlooking the harbor and drove a Mercedes convertible. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. All of it. Everything, except the fucking clothes on my back. I was broken. A bastard.

Did I mention, I'm gay? No? Oh well, I have now.

This is the story of how my fairytale life turned to shit in the blink of an eye.......


CHAPTER ONE

The Past

Joshua Alexander barges into my office, no polite knock at the door, no excuse me, how's your day? He glares at the files strewn on my desk before training his angry gaze onto me. "Pope file, now."

I rummage through the pile, locate the Pope investment file, and thrust it in my father's direction. He snatches it from me and turns to leave.

"They won't stay. We can't offer them the return the Phillips can. He said he would leave half with me but that's it."

Dad swings around and pins me with narrowed eyes. "Thinking like that will get you fucking nowhere in this business. Half is not good enough. Samuel won't take no for an answer, he'll demand they keep it all with us." He storms from my office and I can't resist giving him the bird behind his back. Yeah, real mature I know.

Samuel is my brother, three years younger than my twenty-six years and mom and dad's golden child. Literally. While I have hair as black as coal and pale gray eyes, my brother is surfie blonde with clear ice blue eyes. The image of my father. I'm tall at six feet seven inches, he is average at five feet eleven inches. My body is hard with washboard abs I work hard to keep. Samuels is soft with a little too much fat around the middle. In looks we are poles apart. In temperament, we are planets apart.

I'm easy going, slow to anger. A loner and a little on the shy side. Samuel is a mean motherfucker like our dad and has a deadly short fuse. Fuck, his temper could blow you into outer space. Brothers we might be, friends, we are not. Hell, we don't even like each other, can't even stand to be in the same room together most of the time.

We all work downtown at Alexander's Investment Corporation. It was my grandfather's business, handed down to my father. One day, being the eldest son, it will be mine.

When I finally take control, if there is a business left to take control of, changes will be made. We miss out on, and are losing, accounts because of dad's and Samuel's greed. Our commission is one of the highest in the city. As I said - greed. The only thing keeping most accounts with us, and the business afloat, is loyalty to my father. God only knows why! We also have a high success rate in recommendations. Or should I say, I have a high success rate. Not to blow my own trumpet but, Dad and Samuel are shit when it comes to selecting successful investments. They don't study the market and make snap decisions which usually backfire. Big time.

Anyway, as I was saying, clients stay because of our, read my, success in making them money. Other firms take lower commissions but their success rate is around sixty percent on average. Mine is ninety percent.





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I have always loved to write and have a vivid and overactive imagination.

In my spare time, when I’m not writing, I love to walk, read and shop.

I believe no mountain is too hard to climb, no river is too wide to span and no journey is too difficult to complete. I follow my dreams and I urge and encourage others to do the same.

With a positive attitude, the impossible can become possible.

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RELEASE TOUR: Loving Sweetness: Sweet Series, Book Two by Jude Ouvrard

LOVING SWEETNESS
Sweet series, book 2
by Jude Ouvrard Genre: Contemporary Romance (heat level: hot)


The beginning of a new journey for Iris is both exciting and stressful but she’s not ready to face what’s to come. Neither is Calvin.

Iris is ready to embrace her dream job with the faithful support of her boyfriend. Their love strengthens as they enjoy their life together. Between traveling and meeting new people, she views Calvin’s life and everything that comes with it with a new perspective.

Their life seems perfect, at least until Iris becomes the target of a manipulative soul who proves to be a nasty adversary. Stubborn and Fierce, Iris fights for her man, but will it be enough?




“Stay,” he ordered me.

I left without looking at him or saying goodbye. I had enough. Hurrying out of the building, I had no idea where to go. In such a short time, my life had completely included Calvin in everything I liked to do, whether it regarded going to the gym or the Lounge; they had become my daily hang outs. My friends were his friends, except for Krys.

My feet hurt, I missed my old sneakers. Who was I trying to impress now? Dressed in expensive clothes, none of which I could afford. All that for nothing. This personality wasn’t me. The only things I liked about it were Calvin’s eyes when he looked at me, and how sexy he made me feel. A first tear ran down my cheek. I had to stop. Be stronger than that, Iris. You’re in the middle of the city. You can’t cry.

Where do I go now? A coffee shop? Or maybe I could get a nice haircut. I hadn’t gotten one in quite a while and my hair could use a new do. I kept walking until I found one. Some people say getting their haircut is like therapy, well bring it on.

~~~

After ignoring my phone for a couple of hours, the time to get home had arrived. Spending two hours getting my hair done was exactly what I needed. A new start definitely made me happier, but it faded slowly as I approached the penthouse.

It was late. He’d mentioned he had to leave tonight. What if he had left already? I checked my phone. Nineteen missed calls and my voicemail bursting to capacity.

“Shit!” I muttered to myself.

As I was about to unlock the screen, a call from Calvin came in.

“Hello.”

“Where the fuck are you?” he asked.

“Where the fuck are you?” I could be just as mad as him if I wanted to.

“Iris, don’t play stupid games with me. Where are you? Where have you been?” His voice started to smooth down, I could hear relief.

“I got my hair trimmed.” Maybe a bit more than trimmed, but I didn’t have to be specific, right? Only few inches shorter.

“Where are you now?” he asked, his voice soft, almost like the normal Calvin. Not the stressed-out man he had been today.

“On my way. Are you still home?”

“I just got in my car, I’m driving to the airport.”

Oh! “Okay.” I couldn’t forget how mad he had made me earlier, but a big part of my heart wanted to see him before he left. “I’m two corners south. I’m sorry I missed you. Have a safe trip.” I heard him say my name, but I hung up before he could hear the pain in my voice.

The tears finally became uncontrollable. Today sucked. I wished my brain could delete the last ten hours. I probably had mascara streaming down below my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I tried walking faster. Maybe tomorrow I could stay home again and stay away from Candice. Dealing with her drained all my energy.

“Iris? What the fuck have you done?” Calvin’s voice startled me.

I turned, searching for him. I had chopped off at least five inches of hair, making it just below my shoulders.


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⭐⭐BOOK 1 OF THIS SERIES IS CURRENTLY ONLY AVAILABLE IN THE CHRISTMAS IS FOR LOVERS BOX SET. 6 FULL LENGTH BOOKS FOR ONLY 99cents.⭐⭐

Fleeing this very heartache, Iris leaves her Florida home to attend Columbia University. While she makes friends, works, and enjoys her classes, Iris is not in a rush to fall in love; that is, until a certain sexy someone finds her. Suddenly, Iris' boring holiday takes a sizzling turn. But will the heat of passion lead to a holiday fling, or finally melt her frozen heart?

In the process of following her own heart, can she help a man find his way of letting go of his past guilt and show him how to love unconditionally?



"Drama, true love, tattoos...and everything in between!"

Jude Ouvrard is an author who writes from the heart, and reads with passion and devotion. Jude enjoys stories of drama, true love, tattoos, and everything in between. While writing is her therapy, reading is her solace. Life doesn't get better than books and chocolate, and maybe a little bit of shopping.

A romance lover, Jude writes about love, pain, heartbreak and matters that will challenge your heart. A book can tell an unexpected story, no matter which directions it takes. Jude embraces words that have haunted her for years.

Jude is a working mom who dedicates her time to a law firm and writing books. She has an energetic superhero son, and a supportive boyfriend of many years. Her family is her rock; she could not survive without them. Born a country girl, she transformed into a city woman who now lives in Montreal, Canada. Although French is her first language, Jude decided to write in English because she liked the challenge.

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RELEASE TOUR: The Game Begins by Victoria Danann

THE GAME BEGINSR. Caine High School
by Victoria DanannGenre: YA Sci-Fi Fantasy Myths


When it came to the attention of the old ones that their creations, the Earth gods, had been playing games at the expense of humankind for millennia, they put a stop to it. But the rebellious gods were far too addicted to their games to give them up. After several summit meetings, they voted to use their own children as players and locate the playing field in the most treacherous environment in the known universe. High school.

To make it even more interesting, they would strip their children of their memories and withhold the rules of the game. The players believed they were ordinary kids until they were transferred to R. Caine High School. When odd things begin to happen, the players gradually realize they have special gifts or attributes. But that doesn’t mean they can’t die.

My name is Ever Moore.

I know. It makes me wince every time I say it. When I’m eighteen, I plan to have it legally changed to something that doesn’t make people laugh. But right now I’m stuck.

My dad thinks puns are the highest form of humor. He calls it ‘word play’. That’s right. I’m the spawn of nerds. My dad creates video games. My mother is an ethics professor at UCLA who thinks the battle between good and evil begins at home.

If you want to know just how weird it can get at the Thanksgiving table, I can go one better. My grandfather was a big deal rock star in the seventies. You wouldn’t know the name of the band. So there’s no point in name dropping. After a visit, he exits with a two-finger peace salute like all the other well-adjusted hippie grandparents, but he doesn’t say, “Peace.”

He says, “Rock steady.”

Ugh!

My family is big on manners. They’re too strict to let me say what I think, especially about Buzz’s love life. My grandfather doesn’t want to be called Grandpa or Grandad or Gramps or anything close to normal. Oh no. He wants to be called ‘Buzz’. I have no idea why. That is not his name.

Anyway, the best protest I can mount is rolling my eyes. I keep trying to get his attention and roll my eyes back further into my head when he does the ‘rock steady’ thing, but he will not be deterred.

Anyway I was leading a completely typical and deliciously angsty teenage life in Austin, Texas when my parents were suddenly offered jobs in the LA area at the same time. It was weird, but weird is part of my normal. Always has been.

Since my grandad, the rocker, still lives in LA with the latest girlfriend who’s barely legal - she’s two years older than I am and her name is Charmin, yes, like the toilet paper. If that was my name, I’d have the decency to go by something like Charm, which would really be making lemonade from lemmons. But not Charmin. I don’t think she’s bright enough to understand what people are thinking whenever they say her name. Anyway, with the jobs and the fact that ‘Buzz’ lives there, moving seemed like a good idea.

To them.

~~~

Now here we are in beautiful Oxnard. Yeah. I know. It sounds like somebody was in the middle of a sneeze when a cough barked out. I try looking it up to see what an oxnard is. Of course that was a circular exercise; ‘see city in California’. So I try ‘nard’. Closest thing is spikenard which is an herb. At that point I lose interest.

I’m stuck with Oxnard and, at least for the time being, Oxnard is stuck with me. So here’s a rundown of the good, the bad, and the boring.

The good news is that we managed to get a boat dock house. It’s on the water, but not on the beach. No extra space. There are three bedrooms. Guess who gets the ‘master’? That left two little rooms for my brother and me to fight over. I pulled rank - I’m four years older - and got the one facing the front. That means the water view.

Among other noteworthy travel facts, Oxnard is in a valley between the Santa Monica Mountains and the Los Padres, which is a cluster of mountain ranges. I’m told that you could be surfing at the beach while looking at snow-covered mountains. Put that in the kind of cool column.

Now for the bad. The house is tiny compared to where we lived in Austin. It’s going to be an adjustment.

As far as boring, I know no one here. As in NO ONE!

The only thing that could be worse than that is the fact that on Monday I’m going to have to walk into a new high school. Did I mention that I know NO ONE? Not even my brother will be in my school, which, okay, I admit I’m thankful for that because, if things could be worse, that would be it.

I’ve seen it. The school, I mean.

When nobody was there, I walked around the grounds with my dog, Elke. She’s a Norwegian Elkhound, really smart, really pretty, and really sure she doesn’t have to do what I say.

The school is kind of a gothic monstrosity that couldn’t be more out of place in SoCal. It looks like a Wizard of Oz tornado picked it up in Crumbling, Maine and dropped it in Oxnard.

I imagine the ground shaking when it hit. Boom.

How do I feel about starting a new school in two days?

As a sophomore?

Let me put it this way. Last summer my parents decided we were going to take a family trip to England. They said the educational value was astronomical. It would be like a field trip on steroids. Their words. Not mine.

So we went. But we didn’t go like normal families and stay in hotels. Of course not.

We stayed in family hostels. What’s that, you ask? Imagine going to camp with other families and sleeping in big bunk rooms with people of all ages, both sexes, some of whom make noises in their sleep that you wouldn’t think were possible for humans.

Don’t even ask about the shared bath.

Anyway, we went on one of those Bloody Tower tours in London where they trot you past all the torture tools and devices. Our guide tried to give cryptic descriptions about how they were used, because of his perception that my brother is of a tender and sensitive young age. The guide kept glancing at my brother nervously like he was afraid the information would scar the boy’s precious psyche, imprinting evil on the tabula rosa. On the contrary my brother probably invented some of those devices himself in past lifetimes.

The point I’m getting to is this. Given the choice, I’d gladly choose the rack over having to walk into a new high school as a sophomore where I know NOBODY! But this is the real world and I don’t have a choice.

I’m feeling sorry enough for myself to consider curling up into a ball when my brother barges into my room without knocking. “What the…? We moved here three weeks ago, Never. You’ve had time to unpack. You’re supposed to be the neat one. Miss Smart Perfect Suck up.” He punctuates that with a perfectly disgusting sucking noise.

Following his line of sight to the bed, the chair, the desk, I’m forced to agree that clothes draped everywhere looks like a breakdown straight ahead. Naturally I counter by going on the offensive.“Nobody invited you in. Try knocking! I could have been getting dressed.”

“So what? You’ve got nothing that interests me.”

“Idiot. It’s called privacy. I deserve to have some in my OWN ROOM!”

“What’s this about?” He waves his arm to indicate the trunk show.

“I’m deciding what to wear the first day.”

He laughs that unbelievably aggravating laugh that never fails to make me want to pitch him out a second story window. By the way, there is one close by. It draws my gaze and gives life to my fantasy of hearing him scream on the way down.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” he asks, wearing his smarmiest smuggest sneer face. “Well, sit at the feet of the master, little girl, and I’ll tell you how to conquer first day fever and win.” He sounds like an infomercial for a self-help guru. Maybe he’ll do okay in SoCal. “When you walk in, look for the biggest toughest-looking girl around. Then you walk straight up to her and punch her in the mouth.”

No. He’s not going to do okay in SoCal.

“Levi. This is California. They have zero tolerance for that kind of thing.” He shrugs, completely unconcerned. I put my hand to my head. “Wait. Wait. I’m getting a premonition. Yes. Yes. I can see it now. Mom and Dad are going to get a call from your vice principal within ten minutes of dropping you off at school. He’s going to tell them that they’re raising a barbarian who’s prison bound.”

“Just telling you. It sets the tone for the entire year. Your life can be bumpy or smooth. Take it from me. Your barbarian is my bad ass.” He holds a finger up. “Oh. Did I mention the part about run like hell after you punch Alice Assault in the mouth?”

I blink at him, wondering for the multi-thousandth time which one of us was adopted. It was probably me. “Say your name slowly.”

He rolls his eyes, but gets the message and leaves.

My brother’s name is Levi. We’re not Hebrew. My parents just liked the jeans which, I guess, must have been cool at one time. If he says his name slowly, it sounds like, “Leave. I.”

If you’re thinking that’s mean, don’t even go there. He gets back at me by calling me Never and cawing like Edgar Allen Poe’s raven, especially if I have friends around.

Naturally he leaves the bedroom door standing open just to irritate me. I slam it, hear my mother’s faint shout saying don’t slam the door, lock it, and turn back to the impossible task of figuring out what people at this alien outpost consider first day of school clothes. If only I could…

That’s when I realize I might get a preview into life at R. Caine High School. I open the laptop and pull up images.

Why didn’t I think of this before?

Track and field. Lots of running and jumping enthusiasm then.

Football. Concussion anyone?

Basketball. No comment.

A CPR dummy. How many times has that thing been kissed?

Softball. Hmmm. Maybe.

Graduation. Gold robes. Ew.

And finally, a photo of kids swarming a large paved area, not wearing athletic gear or some kind of club tee shirt. Whether they were coming or going I can’t tell. The main thing is I can see the clothes and they aren’t all that different from what I’m used to. In fact, the picture could have been taken at my old school. Sigh.

So alright. I can do this. All I have to do is pick out something that makes me feel reasonably attractive. It’s the first day of school. Not the end of the world.

Right?

Right?

Lots of people have been through this and survived.

Yes.

I know I’m taking that on faith, but since I haven’t heard urban myths about kids going to new schools and never being heard from again, I’m going with that assumption. Or trying to.

~~~

Who am I kidding?

Doomsday looms.

I mean you wouldn’t think a person could actually fear lunch. Not the food, of course. Although some might say fearing the food made in the cafeteria is a test of Darwin’s theory. I don’t think Darwin’s theory applies to humans anymore. Modern medicine is pretty good at interfering with the impending doom and saving the day no matter how badly we botch genetics.

It probably seems like I’m obsessing over the word ‘doom’, but it’s just that kind of weekend. The kind that will live in infamy forever.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I was talking about the rites of lunch. The quest for that magical place where you can be part of a herd of the like-minded; meaning people who understand you well enough that you can talk to each other, eat together, gossip about whatever, and kid yourself into thinking they don’t gossip about you when you’re not there.

I look at the clock. Again.

The first day of my sophomore year should be a celebration of not being a freshman anymore. But that’s for kids who get to stay put. Not for people like myself who’ve been forcibly relocated, that means moved against my will, to the other side of the country.

By this same time tomorrow I’ll know if my quest was successful.

Will I be able to locate the magical lunch herd on the first day?

Have I been a good person?

Do I deserve that fate?

Why yes. Yes, I do.




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New York Times bestselling author of eighteen romances including paranormal, scifi, fantasy, contemporary, and teen. Victoria's Knights of Black Swan series won BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES and PARANORMAL ROMANCE NOVEL OF THE YEAR the past FOUR YEARS IN A ROW. This past year two of her series took the top two places and two of her books took first and second place Paranormal Romance of the Year category. - Reviewers Choice Awards, The Paranormal Romance Guild.

Her paranormal romances come with uniquely fresh perspectives on "imaginary" creatures, characters, and themes. She adds a dash of scifi, a flourish of fantasy, enough humor to make you laugh out loud, and, occasionally, enough steam to make you squirm in your chair. Her heroines are independent femmes with flaws and minds of their own whether they are aliens, witches, demonologists, werewolves, hybrids, psychics, or past life therapists. Her heroes are hot and hunky, but they also have brains, character, and good manners... usually.

The rich characterizations come from being a lifelong student of behavior, casually, and a serious student of behavior academically. She also studied comparative religion, myths, and Dark Ages history.

Victoria lives in The Woodlands, Texas with her husband and a very smart, mostly black German Shepherd dog.

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PROMO TOUR: My Highlander Husband by Nancy Pennick

MY HIGHLANDER HUSBANDThe Clan MacLaren series, book 1
by Nancy PennickGenre: Historical Romance


Lady Juliet Kingston did not expect to find love in the Scottish Highlands. Sent by the king to marry a laird’s son, she had no expectations until she met the strong and stubborn Ross MacLaren. He won her heart, erasing her feelings for the man she left behind. Her happiness is short-lived as the threat of war becomes real, and she is reclaimed by her former love.



EXCERPT #1

“In two days, we will be wed.” He took her hand. “Do ye think ye may come to love me?”

Love? No one had ever spoken so directly to her. “Um.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “I just met you.”

“Aye, I ken.” He placed his hand around the back of her neck. “And so, I ask permission to kiss ye.”

“Kiss me?” Juliet’s mouth went dry. She wished she still had the glass of sweet wine in her hand. You are going to marry him. You have kissed John. You know what it is like. “Yes, you may.”

He leaned in closer. The other hand went around her waist, bringing her to him. She felt his breath on her cheek, and the scent of ale was pleasant. His lips touched her face so lightly she jumped.

“I willna hurt ye,” he whispered.

Juliet’s heart fluttered as she looked into his eyes. Green pools of summer, ones she could dive into and never come out. She nodded and placed her hand on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the coat. She opened her mouth slightly to tell him she was all right, but instead found his lips on hers.

Ross tightened his grip on her, pulling her so close she fought for breath, yet she did not want him to stop. His lips felt soft against hers as he pushed her mouth open wider. She felt the tip of his tongue on hers. John had never kissed her like that. John!

Juliet pulled back, head spinning. Ross did not let go, still holding her close. He rested his chin on the top of her head, nuzzling her hair. “Ye taste of summer and honey.”

“I think you should give credit to the wine.” Juliet tried to laugh but could only think of the kiss. She wanted another.

“I will take ye to yer room.” Ross offered his arm. “Because if I dinna, we may have to marry tonight.”

EXCERPT #2

“I feel so guilty, Eva.” Juliet looked up with tears in her eyes. “I am betraying him and our love.”

“No, you are not. John is in England. You are here, betrothed to another. I understand you love John, but you must forget him.” Eva put the finishing touches on Juliet’s hair for the wedding ceremony.

“No, you do not understand,” Juliet wailed. “I feel guilty that I could betray him so easily. I think I could fall in love with Ross. If that is true, was I ever really in love with John?” She covered her face. “I am a horrible, shallow person.”

Eva pulled Juliet’s hands away from her face. “You are kind and loving, Juliet. You would not hurt a flea.” She patted the hand she held. “Maybe Ross was meant to be. He is quite handsome if I may say so.”

“It is not just his looks. He is kind and gentle. He has made sure I have not been alone for the last two days. He spent most of that time with me, showing me the land, introducing me to the people and talking about his life.”

“That is an extraordinary man.” Eva pulled the wedding dress from the wardrobe. “You are lucky.”

“And John? What do I do about him?”

“Be grateful for the time you spent with him. He is part of your past. Ross is your future.”



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After a great career in teaching, Nancy found a second calling as a writer. Born and raised in Northeast Ohio, she currently resides in Mentor, OH. Ohio is her home, but she loves to travel the U.S. Now Scotland is on her bucket list as a place she’d like to visit. Nancy is married and has one son.

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PROMO TOUR: Sublime Karma by Peyton Garver

SUBLIME KARMAby Peyton GarverGenre: YA Contemporary (older YA age group)
Content Warning: profanity and violence, contemporary adolescent themes are prevalent and confronted such as bullying, suicide, cutting


When Brie's stepfather moves the family for what he calls a new beginning, it's not the new beginning she would have hoped for. Brie is targeted by a group of popular girls at her new school, and the only available seat on her bus is next to the school’s star wide receiver, Jake, who for some reason, finds her offensive. After a humiliating article and picture of Brie is posted in the online school journal, a demon she thought she'd overcome resurfaces, and her life unravels. A newly compassionate Jake has finally taken an interest in her, but can Brie learn to trust her heart, or will she miss out on the best thing that ever happened to her?

Jake has his own secrets and has built his own walls, but eventually his curiosity about the new girl gets the best of him. Unfortunately, now there is competition: the captain of her cross-country team. Jake's romantic histories with the girl next door and the school's queen bee, adds tension to a simmering tempest when all he wants is Brie. Is he strong enough to help the one he loves weave sense into her crumbling new reality while overcoming his own tainted past?



The bus snaked its way through the country roads, and then to the lavish development that backed up to the woods behind his house. Upperclassmen from this neighborhood had their own cars. This bus collected the underclassmen: those few who weren’t chauffeured, as minions of the privileged.

Jake leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, not looking at the kids coming down the aisle. None dared to ask if they could sit in the empty space next to him. They’d sit three to a seat rather than make that request. Just the way he wanted it.

The over-filled bus pulled to a stop midway down Belmont Circle. New stop? Jake looked out his window at the estate with a circular drive. Huh. It finally sold. He watched as a single figure headed toward the bus. What, so now they get door-to-door service? He rolled his eyes.

Seconds later, she stood in the aisle waiting. From his seat, his eyes skimmed up passed her faded jeans and plain, loose sweater, and his breath caught in his throat. Her long blond hair was pulled to the side in a loose braid. Her face? Ethereal. But then, his flustered gaze became an annoyed glare.

Her bleak gray eyes seemed to look right through him before they darted to the space next to him. Did she even register his indignation? She must have. Yet, she stood there in the aisle twisting the loose adjustment strap on her backpack tightly around her fingers.

“May I sit here?” her meek voice broke the silence that had fallen around them.

Noticing the hush of conversation, Jake’s eyes skimmed the crowded bus. There was no doubt he and this new girl had an audience. Not something he relished.

His eyes swept back to her. He could tell she was nervous. He heard it in her quavering voice and saw it in the way she avoided his eyes. He could just say no. But, as long as she was standing, the bus wouldn’t budge. Becca looked at him from her seat across the aisle then whipped her phone out and started her eager texting. He narrowed his eyes at her, and then with a smirk, he stood.

“Really?” he bit out at her under his breath, leaning close so only she could hear. He grabbed his backpack from the seat and football bag off the wheel well and then moved his six-foot-one frame into the aisle. With a jerk of his head, he directed her to the space by the window.

She slipped by him with lithesome poise, maneuvering in the small space without so much as brushing against him. He watched her settle into the seat with perfect posture, even though her feet were raised up on the wheel well. Her vacant eyes never returned to his. So, why was his heart suddenly beating faster? Was it because of his rudeness and the fact that she ignored it? Could it be remorse? She didn’t seem to have that presumptuous, stuck-up attitude that so annoyed him. She looked almost . . . empty.



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As a child, Peyton called places like Livorno, Italy; Orléans, France; and Augsburg, Germany home. She has since settled in Maryland, where she earned her degree in education at Towson State University, married her sweetheart of two years, and became an instant mother to three spirited young boys before adding another son to the brood. And, with their yellow lab George, it's no stretch to say she's outnumbered.

When not writing, Peyton is a full time teacher. Inspired by the individual spirits, heartaches, and triumphs of her students, Peyton has developed characters who resemble real world teens dealing with real issues: relationships, jealousy, bullying, and depression. Her newest novel, Sublime Karma, is a contemporary story filled with emotion, depth, wit, and suspense.

When asked if she actually involves her students in her stories, Peyton answered that her stories are completely fictional, but then admitted to an activity in which she does involve them. "One quirky, fun thing I like to do with students who have read my book is develop a dream cast for my characters. That all started when a group of girls were arguing over which actor they thought best fit the character Four in Veronica Roth's novel Divergent. They then turned their efforts to my manuscript. I've since added those dream casts to my website."

When she's not teaching or writing, Peyton enjoys traveling. The Caribbean Islands have become a favorite vacation getaway for Peyton and her husband. "Nothing is better than sitting on a beach, in front of the crystal clear sea, enveloped in the warmth of the tropical sun with a frosty piña colada and a good book that I just can't put down."

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RELEASE BLITZ: On Unfaithful Wings By Bruce Blake

ON UNFAITHFUL WINGSIcarus Fell series, book 1
by Bruce BlakeGenre: Urban Fantasy


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.

I stood with my back to the church, much the way I’d lived my life.

Rain poured down the eaves, splashing my shoes. Each drop pattering against the leather felt as though it landed directly on my mood. I tugged my suit jacket tighter and glanced at my watch—almost eleven p.m. If the rain didn’t let up soon, Trevor would be in bed, his belated birthday present another day late. After letting him down again, Rae probably wouldn’t let me give him the gift, anyway. A heavy sigh drew the taste of rain on dry soil into my lungs as I suppressed the desire to call her names in my head, to blame her for everything. It wasn’t her fault.

There I stood, spirit as dampened by the April shower as my clothing, thinking I waited for the rain to stop, not knowing it was something else I waited for, something entirely different.

My death.

I shifted again and the plastic Best Buy bag hidden under my jacket to keep it dry slipped out and hit the stairs with a splash.

“Damn it.”

I stooped to retrieve the bag, feeling unremorseful for swearing outside a house of worship. There was no God to hear anyway and—with the Pope dry in the Vatican—who’d be offended? A plump drop of rain punished my Godly disdain with a direct hit to my left eye as I fetched my son’s gift from the top step.

I suspected the rain might not let up any time soon.

It probably couldn’t have happened any differently. Do we have any choice in what we do, or is it all pre-planned? I used to believe we did, but my beliefs—or lack of them—were about to be thrown into question, along with my opinion of what happens after we die.

I stepped back and shook moisture from the bag impatiently. It had been half an hour since the unexpected downpour began, its torrent catching me unprepared and forcing me from my planned path—to sneak Trevor his birthday present without Rae noticing me—to my current hiding spot at the church. This church of all churches.

See what I mean about choice?

If the rain wasn’t going to let up, I’d just have to get wet. I stepped from under the pathetic cover of the church’s eaves and my foot splashed in an unseen puddle, cold water soaking the Wal-Mart loafer on my left foot. Raindrops pelted my cheek and I bit back another curse as I jammed the Xbox game purchased for Trevor’s birthday into the pocket of my suit jacket and pulled the coat over my head. I felt like an idiot as my saturated footwear slurped with each step down the concrete path.

Halfway across the churchyard, I noticed two men blocking the path ahead. They wore jackets with hoods pulled up to hide their faces, keep the rain from their heads. At first glimpse, the sheets of rain gave them a ghostly quality, a glow, and made me doubt my eyes. My gaze flickered sideways to the graveyard beside the church, with its broken, moss-covered headstones canted at odd angles, but I quickly dismissed the thought. A trick of rain and poor light.

There’s no such thing as ghosts.

I slowed, wondering if the men could be avoided. Probably not. Living in the city my entire life taught me to be wary of men hanging out on the streets at night with their faces hidden. But this wasn’t the streets, it was a churchyard, and rain this heavy gave good reason to use a hood. Maybe they’d come for a little midnight prayer, eager for the best pew in the house.

Right.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” I ventured drawing closer to them. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Apparently they didn’t think so. The man nearest me pulled a knife from under his forest-green rain slicker and jabbed it toward me, stabbing the rain between us. Hell of a reaction.

He could’ve just said ‘no’.

“Give me your money,” he growled.

I know you’re supposed to do what a mugger says: it’s your best shot at survival, but I didn’t. Maybe the rain made me hesitate, or the wetness in my shoes, or knowing the boy would be disappointed again; whichever, my brain wouldn’t let my body do what it knew it should. I stood taller than either of them, but they had the knife. All I had on them was fifteen years of poor eating and neglect.

“C’mon guys. It’s a crummy night and I’m two weeks late for my boy’s birthday. Let a guy be, will you? There must be some little old ladies running around practically begging to have their social security cheques stolen.”

“Shut up and give us your money, asshole.”

The man holding the knife remained in front of me as the other circled to my right, presumably to hinder any escape. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, saw rain bouncing off his gray raincoat, noticed that his runners didn’t match, but he quickly passed from view, blocked by the jacket held foolishly over my head, keeping my hair dry in case they killed me. Cool rain peppered my face as I dropped the coat back onto my shoulders and reached to pull my wallet from the inner pocket. The man with the knife lunged forward, brandishing the blade at my nose. My stomach jumped into my chest and I threw both hands up in the air like a good mugging victim.

“Whoa. You want my money, you need my wallet.”

The tip of the knife waggled in the air, gesturing for me to continue. I stared at the point of the blade, at the man’s fingerless glove and the way he’d chewed his fingers until they looked painful. Beyond his arm, I thought I saw a smile hidden in the darkness beneath the hood.

I sighed, a shuddering breath lamenting how little my wallet contained for them to steal as much as it did the fact they were stealing it. The man behind me snatched it away before it cleared my pocket, his nails raking my wrist, and rifled through the meager contents. He snatched the three bills it contained, made a face at the fifteen bucks, and then took the VISA card I’d fought so hard to get after ruining my credit a few years back. Joke’s on him if he uses it, they’ll probably ask for a payment first.

He showed the sparse loot to his partner.

“Fifteen bucks? That’s it?”

“Look at this.” He’d dug out my driver’s licence. I knew this would happen. “The guy’s name is Icarus Fell. Icarus, like in the Iron Maiden song”

“Yeah,” I said. “The guy who named me didn’t like me much. Call me Ric.”

“Sure, Icarus,” the guy holding the knife said in a schoolyard-bully lilt. With a name like Icarus Fell, I’d heard that tone enough to recognize it. He stepped toward me, blade extended to within an inch of my face. I wanted to take an equal step away, but knew his partner wouldn’t like that, so I stood my ground, hoping to look more brave than stupid. “What else you got?”

“Nothing. That’s it.”

“Check his pockets. He put something in his pocket.”

The man tossed my wallet onto the grass where it landed with a mucky-sounding splat. He advanced on me and this time I moved. He grabbed my arm, pulled me toward him.

“Don’t do nothing stupid.”

Why didn’t he tell me that twenty-five or thirty years ago?

He patted my pants pockets first—the most action I’d seen in a while—then moved to the pockets of my suit jacket; the right hand outer one produced a hollow, plasticky thud. I cringed.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” I said inching away. “A game for my kid.”

“Give it up.”

“Guys, really. What are you going to do with a video game?”

His fingers dug into my bicep. “Give it to me.”

“I already missed his birthday. Can’t you let me keep it?” I yanked against his grip knowing I shouldn’t—people got killed for less—but I couldn’t let Trevor down. Not again. “Take everything else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“There is nothing else. Give it to me,” the knife-wielder demanded.

I wondered what Rae would tell Trevor when he didn’t get a present from me again. Probably that, since someone else was his ‘real’ father, I didn’t care.

Adrenaline flooded my brain, but it didn’t heighten my senses the way they describe in books. Instead, it made me stupid. Before I realized what I was doing, I swung at the man holding my arm, my fist contacting his nose with a satisfying crunch. The move surprised both of us and he lifted his hands to his face.

It took a second to comprehend that he’d let me go. My heartbeat quickened, pulsed in my ears. I ran, or attempted to: dress shoes aren’t made for sprinting on wet grass. Both men jumped me before I got going, riding me to the ground like they were the cowboys and I was the calf. A knee pressed into my back, an elbow in my ear as my cheek sank into soggy lawn knocking breath from my lungs and hope from my heart. My clothes soaked instantly, plastering cloth to skin, the smell of wet earth filled my nose, literally.

“You stupid bastard,” one of them said, but the mud in one ear and elbow in the other precluded me from identifying which one. “Couldn’t give us the stupid game, could you?” He yanked it out of my pocket.

The pain of the knife’s tip pushing through the flesh of my lower back into my kidney hurt more than I could ever have imagined. The shock of it made me suck a mixture of cold air and dirty rain water through taut lips and expel it all in an agonized howl. The knife rose and fell again, then again, perforating my internal organs, each stab more painful than the last. Each time it pulled free, I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in that it would end, that I would get up and hurry on my way to see Trevor.

My body jerked and spasmed beneath the men straddling me, my bladder let go. After the fourth time the knife entered me, my flesh went numb. It may have pierced me a few more times, but I lost interest in counting. I gasped air in through my mouth and the breath tasted like the black crud scraped off bread left too long in the toaster. And blood.

“That’s enough. Let’s go,” one of them said, presumably the one not engaged in shredding my bowels.

Their weight lifted off my back and my mind told me to roll over and sit up, defend against further attack, but my muscles would have nothing of such a proposal, so I lay on the wet grass doing the only thing I could: bleed. Maybe I wept a little, too, but who can tell in the rain?

“I guess Icarus really did fall, didn’t he, Ric?”

Their laughter didn’t sting nearly as much as the knife, and it dissipated much more quickly as they ran off. I was used to being teased but couldn’t say the same of being knifed. After they left, my ragged breathing and the sound of rain pattering around and on me became my world. I never realized how much noise rain hitting grass made until my ear was pressed to the ground with no choice but to listen.

My stomach knotted as the gravity of my situation set in: after eleven on a Wednesday night, bleeding on the lawn outside an empty church in the kind of downpour that convinced people not to venture out for a chat with God.

Did I mention I was bleeding? A lot?

Water pooled in my ear canal until the unnaturally loud plop of rain drops splashing into the tiny pond drowned out even the sound of my breath. Not steady, metronomic drips like I imagined a water torture would be, but an uneven patter that, should I live long enough, would likely prove equally effective at driving me crazy.

“Help.”

In my head, the single word came out a scream, shaking trees and rattling windows, attracting the attention needed to save me so I could see my son again, even if it was for the last time. In reality, it was more of a peep. I closed my eyes and sucked dirty water through my nose then coughed it out my mouth. The pain it induced in my back and side hurt worse than the original stabbing, like someone stood over me with a hot poker pressed to my side, except I was cold and wet and bleeding to death, too. A hot poker didn’t sound so bad.

“Help,” I peeped.



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ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOSTAdd to TBR list on Goodreads.

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?



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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NAUGHTY NOVELLASGenre: BDSM, Contemporary, Fairytale, Fantasy, Historical, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Threesome
Seven Sensuous Romance including BDSM, Contemporary, Fairytale, Fantasy, Historical, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, and Threesome by bestselling authors


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By day, Belle Scarlett is a mild-mannered story consultant, film producer, and award-winning screenwriter in Lost Angeles. By night, she assumes her super-secret identity as Belle Scarlett, author of futuristic and paranormal romances with a high sizzle factor. Belle is also a proud member of The Naughty Literati - romance authors who publish boxed sets of their hot stories several time a year.

Aiding Belle in her quest for kick-ass, magical romance and out-of-this-world, passionate-ever-afters are her trusty sidekicks, Tall-Alpha-Blue-Eyed Boyfriend, upon whom her heroes are based, and Evil Feral Cat, upon whom her villains are based.

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Colorado: The new frontier. This is the voyage of Nicole Austin. It’s been a lifelong mission. To explore awe-inspiring vistas. To get out of the rut, seek new experiences. To boldly go where she’s dreamed of being.

And she’s not taking this crazy journey alone. With some arm-twisting, kicking and screaming, she stuffed her best friend and co-author in the trunk of her muscle car, traded tropical beaches for snowcapped mountains and headed off into the great unknown.

A passion for erotic romance, along with the voices in her head that refuse to be silenced, have led to the creation of provocative stories that push boundaries and release inhibitions, resulting in extreme reader satisfaction. Scandalous!

Now she lives in an incredible world where fantasy comes to life in bold, vivid detail. Well, until real life intrudes, but Nicole fights a valiant battle to keep reality moments at a minimum and hold on to the dream.

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Tina Donahue is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels (Freeing the Beast, Come and Get Your Love, and Wicked Takeover) were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic contemporary romance, was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

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Berengaria Brown is an award-winning, best-selling, multi-published author of erotic romance with over one hundred published digital, print and audio books. She writes contemporary, paranormal (magic, ghosts, vampires, fairies, dragons, and werewolves), futuristic, medieval, and Regency-set historical. She loves to read all different kinds of romance so that is what she writes: MMF, MFM, FMMM, FFM, MM, FF, and MF. Whatever the characters need for their very hot happily-ever-after, Berengaria makes sure they get it.

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Katherine Kingston is the author of a dozen or so novels and novellas, most of which are currently out of print but re-edited and re-released now. Currently the first three of her Suburban Dominants series are available at most ebook retailers. She’s also a member of The Naughty Literati and has had a story in all of their anthologies so far. Kate writes in a number of genres including contemporary BDSM, historical, paranormal, and fantasy.

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Kathy Kulig is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist of erotic contemporary and paranormal romance. She’s a science geek by day and escapes into her writer’s world at night. Known for writing dark and edgy stories, Kathy’s books are passionate, emotionally-charged and always have a happy ending. She began her writing career in journalism, publishing articles in magazines and newspapers. Now she lives in a fantasy world making up sexy stories to entice her readers.

When she's not writing, she loves to work out, travel, read stacks of books, watch movies and have dinners out with her darling husband. She lives in Pennsylvania in a 100 year-old Victorian house with a garage built out of reject tombstones.

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