Cara Faith Donvovan's Blog, page 51

Brandon (Dark Grove Plantation) by Julia Sykes

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For months, I’ve been drawn to BDSM club Dark Grove Plantation again and again, unable to resist the allure of one particular raven-haired beauty. The only problem? Ella is a Dominatrix, and she’s made it clear with her barbed tongue that she has zero interest in submitting to me. But my instincts tell me that lies are dripping from those perfect, red-painted lips. I crave to bind her beneath me, to torment her body with dark pleasure until she screams out my name and calls me Master. There’s a sweet submissive hidden somewhere under Ella’s haughty exterior, and I intend to earn her surrender. The infamous Dominatrix of Dark Grove Plantation will be mine.











“Hello there, sugar.”
I tensed at the sound of his familiar, impossibly deep voice. I’d come to dread its sexy Southern twang. Conversations with Brandon never went well.
I took a breath and slowly turned to face him where he’d come to loom behind me. Although I arched an imperious brow at him, my efforts were somewhat ruined by the fact that I had to stare up at him. I might be six feet tall with the added height of my stiletto heels, but he still had several inches on me. And when he was standing this close, it was impossible to meet his eye without tilting my head back. It made me feel small, exposed. Vulnerable.
I shifted back slightly, only to bump against the bar behind me. An irritatingly sexy smirk tugged at his lips. I forced my gaze to remain trained on his rich brown stare rather than allowing my eyes to drop to the mocking curve of his mouth. Remarkably thick, dark lashes framed those eyes. The effect might have seemed feminine on another man, but Brandon’s strong, square jaw was overtly masculine. And the way he was watching me was all alpha male. His eyes narrowed slightly, the molten chocolate irises darkening as his pupils dilated: a predator fixing his sights on his prey.
I lifted my chin and met his challenge, my eyes clashing with his.
“I’ve told you not to call me sugar,” I said coldly. We’d had this argument before. It seemed to be one of Brandon’s favorite conversations. The man loved goading me.
His smirk widened to a dazzling smile, as though my irritation pleased him immensely.
“What should I call you, then?” he asked, his voice lilting with amusement.
“Mistress would suit you nicely,” I quipped.
“I’d prefer to call you mine,” he countered in a rumbling tone that caressed my skin. I suppressed a shiver.
I shrugged it off. “Keep dreaming.”
He cocked his head at me, and the crimson club lights glinted a bronze halo off the copper strands in his dark hair, making him resemble a dark angel for a few befuddling seconds.
“I do dream about you, Ella. Do you want to know what I dream?” The wicked gleam in his eye made my mouth water, and I took too long to refuse him. He leaned in closer, so the heat of his bare skin pulsed against mine. He wore only his faded jeans. They were slung low on his hips, leaving his powerful body on display.
Unable to help myself, I glanced down at his sculpted chest, my eyes greedily roving the contours of his perfection. My gaze followed the sexy V at his hips, down the trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans. A small, involuntary gasp left my lips when I saw his cock straining against the denim fabric.
His head dipped toward mine, until I could feel the heat of his breath fanning my neck. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel him against every inch of my skin.
“I dream about you, bound beneath me,” he whispered, low and rough. “Screaming out my name while I taste and torment your sweet little pussy.”
“Keep dreaming,” I managed again, but my breathy tone ruined the retort. “I don’t want to be tied to anyone’s bed. I’m the Domme. I have to deal with men trying to Top me every day in the courtroom. I’m not about to let you do it in the playroom. I don’t enjoy losing. Ever.”
Brandon drew back slightly so I found myself captured in his curious gaze. “You think submitting means losing?” he asked.
“I… No. Of course not.” I fumbled. I didn’t think of my submissive partners as losers. I respected them and cherished the trust they placed in me when they chose to give me control.
“But you think you’d be losing if you submitted to me,” he surmised. It wasn’t a question.
I shook off my confusion. “I don’t need to worry about losing, because I’m not playing with you.”
“Playing? Is that what BDSM is for you? A game?”
I shrugged. “It’s a common term for sharing a kinky scene, and you know it. You’ve been coming to Dark Grove for three months now. Don’t act naïve.”
“I’ve been in the lifestyle for much longer than a few months,” he allowed. “So no, I’m not naïve. I think you might be, though.”
“What?” I gasped, affronted. “I’ve been a Dominatrix for years.”
“I’m not saying you’re not a skilled Top,” he said calmly. “I’m saying you’re willfully deceiving yourself if you truly think there’s nothing between us.”
“There isn’t,” I said, as flatly as I could manage. “I’m not interested in you, Brandon.”
He reached out and touched my cheek with proprietary familiarity that shocked me to my core. His fingertips explored the line of my jaw, his thumb traced over my parted lips.
“Then why do your eyes darken when I’m close?” he asked, pinning me in place with his intense brown stare. His fingers trailed lower, caressing the vulnerable artery at my throat. “Why does your pulse race?” He inhaled deeply, breathing me in. “I can practically smell how wet you are. I bet your panties are soaked right now, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
“I didn’t say you could kiss me,” I whispered.
“I didn’t ask for your permission, Mistress.”






Julia Sykes is the USA Today bestselling author of the Impossible Series. She has always kept dark stories tucked away in her mind, so she was thrilled when she discovered that other people actually want to read them. Her books blend romance, suspense, and BDSM. After spending four years living in England, Julia returned to her Southern homeland. She has recently settled down in South Carolina and spends her time petting her cat-children, reading, and binge watching TV with her husband when not writing. You can usually find Julia in Starbucks with a venti iced latte clutched in her hand. Julia loves connecting with readers! Please feel free to contact her on facebook, through twitter, or email her directly at juliasykes193@gmail.com. You can find out more about Julia's current and future projects at julia-sykes.com. Author Links Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon page



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Right for Love - Aria Cole

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Love is only a swipe away…
Pre-med student Carly Samuelson doesn't have time for things like swoony Valentine's dates, so when her best friend downloads a dating app to get Carly lucky, her expectations are low. But when her friend swipes right on tall, dark, and dashing Thorn Cartwright, Carly walks into something she never expected—Thorn's got a proposition: one night, one dress, him and her. But can one swipe right really lead to love?







 
















ONE
Carly    “Girl.” My best friend leveled me with serious eyes, one hand holding a lock of blond hair that was wrapped around a searing hot curling wand above her head. “You need to get some action before those bits turn to dust.”    I burst out in a laugh. “My vagina will just incinerate and float away, huh?”    “What do they say…” She tipped her head to the side. “If you don’t use it, you lose it?”    I shook my head, watching as she unrolled the curl and let it bounce into a perfect ringlet as she got ready for her Valentine’s Day date tonight. Lord knows with whom this time. Saying Selma was a free agent was putting it lightly.      “I’m too busy for the kind of trouble you get up to at all hours of the night,” I finally answered. “You know, someday all of that natural beauty—” She wagged a finger at my face “—is going to crack. That young virginal thing you got going on won’t last forever. Why you wasting all your youth with your head in a textbook? You have to live, Carly!”      I crossed my arms, thinking it was moments like these that made me both love and despise Selma for her natural, dark-eyed beauty and that effortless attitude she lived her life with.    “I’m not like you.” I finally shook my head. “I don’t do well with strangers or in groups or in public places on holidays…really, anywhere with people. I just don’t do well with people.”    “Bullshit.” Selma dropped another curl, twisting it softly then setting the wand on the counter. “Anyone can date now, no more awkward first dates or getting-to-know-you conversations. I downloaded this dating app. You just swipe right if the guy is a hottie, left if he looks like a douchenozzle. Welcome to dating in the modern world.”    “A dating app? You downloaded a dating app?”    “You know I like to spice things up in my life.”    I huffed, a little incredulous. I thought online dating was for nerds… Well, I guess I was technically a nerd, considering all I did was go to class, study, sleep, repeat. While Selma was partying the night away at clubs, kissing strange, sexy men, I was up late in a college sweatshirt and pajama pants, poring over anatomy books. With just one more year to go in my biology degree, the end was in sight. All the hard work of the last few years would finally pay off with a diploma and a set of skills that could allow me to get a job at any doctor’s office around the country as a physician’s assistant. The coursework had been brutal—I’d known it would be—but I was too far in to throw it away now, even if my grades were at the top of my class.      “I’m not using a dating app. I can’t even think about dating right now.”    “It’s not dating, exactly…” Selma pushed me in front of the mirror and picked up the wand, twisting a lock of my hair in her fingers and wrapping it around the barrel of the wand. “It’s more like…hookups.”    “Hookups.” I scrunched my nose, catching her eyes in the mirror.      “Yeah, you know, burn off some steam. Sex releases anti-stress chemicals to your brain, you know, and people who have an orgasm within thirty minutes of having a test perform up to five points higher. Five points! You need to fuck off some steam, Carly.”    “Oh my God.” I covered my face with one hand as she continued to curl random sections of my hair.      “I mean it. When’s the last time you got any play at all?” She twirled a soft lock at my face, adding a wave until it lay nicely with the rest.      “Uh…” I paused, pushing back through old dusty cobwebs to the last time I’d even let a man kiss me. “Freshman year, maybe?”    “Oh my God. You’re practically a born-again virgin. We need to get you that app.” Selma set the wand down on the counter. “Finished.”    I glanced up, shocked she’d curled my entire head of hair and was now separating the ringlets until they were only softly defined and falling over one shoulder.      “Your hair looks too good to waste.” Selma swiped my phone and held it up. “Smile, and give me that look in your eye.”    “What look?”    “That one that says you’re really horny but still a good girl.”    I narrowed my eyes.      “No, that looks like you might swipe their wallet when they’re finished. Softer. Less murder-y, more seductive.”     “Selma!” I squealed, swiping the camera just as the flash went off.     “Wait, let me see. That was a good one!” Selma pulled the phone from my hand, swiping to the last picture taken. “Look.” She thrust the picture into my face. “You look fucking hot. Let’s find you a man tonight.”    “No, Selma.” My asshole friend spun, my phone in hand, and shuffled out the bathroom door, her fingers tapping a hundred words a second as she went. “Selma!”      She stopped dead in her tracks, turned to me in the middle of my studio apartment kitchen, and handed me the phone. “There.”    Her smile was big. I wanted to bitch-slap it off her face.      “What did you do?”    “Created your account, uploaded that pic. Now you’re ready to swipe your way to a lay, baby.”    “Jesus, Selma. Why are we friends?”    “Probably because I challenge your very boring and predictable nature.” She twirled a fresh curl at my temple. “And you love me.”    I only grunted in reply, my eyes focused on the screen, the first handsome candidate to show up on my phone. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”    “Swipe left. He looks like a businessman wannabe.”    “Wannabe? What are you, an expert at typing men on this thing?”    “Swipe enough.” She shrugged, peering over my shoulder to glance at the next potential date.      “Ew!” We both swiped left, clearing the older gentleman with the overgrown mustache off our screen.      “He’s not bad.” Selma paused on the third, tilting her head. “If you squint.”    I groaned, swiping left. Then left. Then another left.      “I’ve learned one thing from this app tonight,” I said.     “What’s that?” Selma was swiping left for me, the frown growing deeper with every swipe.      “That we’re surrounded by a million really creepy guys. It’s no wonder I haven’t found a date in ages.”    Selma nodded, taking in my words. “Maybe it’s time I move. When I visited my cousin in Denver, you should have seen the hot guys. Like, h-o-double-t hot.”    “Well, I’m deleting it. All that’s on here is mountain men and college guys looking to score more action. Not interested.”      “Wait, what about him?” She paused, thumb hovering over the handsome face lit with a one-sided cocky smile. His eyes were a clear shade of ocean blue, hair dark and a little mussed, with a dark smattering of sexy five-o’clock shadow across his angled jaw.      “Nuh-uh. He’s married.”      “What? No way! What makes you say that?” Selma squinted, as if trying to read the signals through the screen.      “Because no man that beautiful is still on the market at his age.”    “His age? He’s like thirty-five, tops,” she scoffed.      “Exactly. Married, divorced with kids, something.”    “Well, okay, then. What do you care? This is just a hookup anyway, remember? Not like you have to worry about him proposing on the first date or anything.”    “Selma…” I groaned, ready to swipe left on his gorgeous, smug ass.      “Nope.” Selma slid her thumb across my screen, swiping right. “Got him.”    She grinned up at me triumphantly.      “Oh my God, what are you doing!” I wiped left, left, up, across. “Where are the settings? Can I undo that right swipe?”    She laughed, walking back down the hall to the bathroom. “Nope. No undoing!”      I followed quickly on her heels, stopping right next to her in front of her post at the bathroom mirror. Just then, the little app chimed in my hand. An alert popped up that said a match was made.      Oh, shit.      “Oh, you are such an asshole, Selma Martinez.”    “You got a match! That means he likes you, too.” She nodded, taking every second of this painfully embarrassing moment in stride.      “That wasn’t even a good picture of me! I hate you.”    “Or you could say thank you.” She winked. “Now send that boy a message.”    “What? No way. I’m not interested. Maybe you should go out with him.”    “Nah, I’ll take one for the team. Your vag needs some love, and I think Mr. Sex right there is going to give it to you.”    “I’m not going.”    “You’re an idiot if you don’t.”    I nearly replied that she was an idiot for even downloading the app when another chime popped up.     New message alert.      “Oh Jesus.”    “Ooh, he’s really into you.” Selma snatched the phone from my hands and opened the message.      “Wait! Don’t answer it!”    “Too late, it already shows him that I’ve seen it—or you’ve seen it.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “It says, Would love to meet tonight. I’ll just reply…” She started tapping at warp speed.      “No! No!” I yanked my phone from her. “Don’t reply.”      “Well, you have to. Otherwise, that would just be rude.”    “Rude. Like I care if I’m rude to a stranger, Selma!” I couldn’t contain the shrieky frustration lacing my voice.     “Well, I just wasn’t raised that way, stranger or not.”     I shook my head, finding myself again stupefied by all things Selma. “You’re unbelievable.”    She caught my eye in the mirror, refusing to say a word. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her eyes flared with simmering irritation.      “Fine. I’ll answer him. I’ll tell him he was a mistake swipe or something.”    “What? You can’t say that.”    “Why not?” There were too many rules for online dating, exactly the reason it was better I’d avoided it.       “Way to kick a guy when he’s down. No, I would not like to see you tonight. Actually, I think you’re a dog and wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. Have a nice night!”      “Well, I wouldn’t be that harsh.”    Selma shook her head, finishing one last curl in her hair before placing the wand on the counter and unplugging it. She spun, pushing fingers through her hair until the curls bounced and bobbed with enviable volume. “Tell him the truth—you’re a busy college student with a very large stick up your ass.”    “And with a nosy friend who doesn’t know how to keep her hands off other people’s property,” I chimed in.      “Sounds about right. Listen, chica…” Selma paused, catching her reflection in the mirror and adjusting her boobs in the cups of her bra to get more oomph. Her word. Not mine. “I’ve got to meet Pratt outside in twenty minutes. I hope you give yourself a break tonight. You deserve it. Give that vag a little workout, and you’ll feel better in the morning.” She spritzed some of my perfume in a cloud around her. “I’ll call you later when I get home…or in the morning.” She paused. “It probably won’t be until the morning.” She winked, then placed a kiss on my cheek. “Let loose tonight, Carly. God knows you need it.”    She turned, blowing me one last kiss before sauntering out of my apartment in her chunky, laced boots and skirt.      I glanced back down at my phone, then to the puppy pajamas that fell to the tops of my bare feet.      I sighed.      I did need some fun.      I was ready for a life outside of textbooks and professors and exams and essays.      I hovered over the keyboard, not knowing what in the hell to say before I typed quickly.      Sure. Where and when?    Before I could think twice, I hit send.    Maybe Selma was right. If I didn’t use it, I would lose it. Perhaps not so much my vag but my sexuality, my sense of self, my free spirit.      I grinned, shutting down the app and tossing it on the bed, not caring if the handsome guy with the cocky smile ever replied or not. I was having fun making the butterflies in my stomach jump all on my own.




































Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
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Heartbreak Highway - Harper Whitmore

Title: Heartbreak Highway: Where to From Here  - Box Set 2Author: Harper WhitmoreGenre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: July 13, 2017
As Missy stood on the pier at Huntington Beach, looking out over the ocean she never dreamed of seeing, and an uncertain future, she watched one of the two men she loved walk out of her life."Where to From Here?" was all she could think.Would she live to love like Marshall and Eva, or was this the end of her Heartbreak Highway?
Romantic books, movies, music, and people who love life, feed my soul and inspire me to create the characters in my books that I'd love to meet in my life. And when I'm not writing, I like to hit the gym, the beach, and travel to the many beautiful places that are in an abundance in this wonderful world we live.
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The Flip - K.L. Montgomery

Title: The FlipSeries: Romance in RehobothAuthor: K.L. MontgomeryGenre: Romantic ComedyRelease Date: July 20, 2017 Andrew and Sonnet hated each other in high school. Always rivals for the best grades and top academic honors, there was no love lost between these two nerds after graduation.Ten years later, they've both been named heirs to property in Bethany Beach, Delaware, after the passing of its owner, Penelope Vaughn. Ms. Vaughn was Andrew's Great Aunt and Sonnet's beloved next door neighbor growing up. The quaint beach cottage needs serious work before going on the market. Andrew and Sonnet are both willing to bury the hatchet in exchange for drills and saws, especially since they stand to make a pretty penny with the beachfront property, which will finance Drew's dream of opening a business and Sonnet's plan to earn her doctorate in astrophysics.But when they face a multitude of home improvement obstacles, will these two former adversaries be able to pull off a successful flip? Or did Great Aunt Penny have something else in mind with her bequest?

Goodreads Reviewer 5 Star - “The humor in this story made it a 5 star read! I haven't chuckled this much reading a book in such a long time.”

Goodreads Reviewer 5 Star - “Fun read with plenty of twists and laughs along the way.”

Goodreads Reviewer 5 Star - “This book had me laughing from the beginning. Loved every second of this story!”

Check out K.L. Montgomery's Author Page for Giveawayhttps://www.facebook.com/GreenCastles/
By the time we’ve finished up at the house that night, Sonnet and I are both beat. We came inside during the heat of the day to work on stripping the wallpaper in the kitchen. It didn’t matter how many “stripper” jokes I made, I don’t think she ever cracked a smile. See, that’s why we never got along. She could never lower herself to be even slightly amused by the comedic stylings of world-renowned funnyman, Andrew Clark. I was elected Class Clown for a reason, you know.“What did I do with my shoes?” she asks as soon as I crack open a cold one from the trusty cooler I packed up this morning. “And don’t you have to work tonight?” she asks when she eyes me taking a nice, healthy swig.She’s such a buzzkill.“A) I don’t know where your shoes are and B) nope, I’m off this weekend. Fuck yeah!” I wink at her, quickly deciding not to let her sour mood ruin mine.“How did you manage that in the middle of the season?” she questions, getting a curious look in her eye.“I told my boss I really needed to work on the house this weekend. She knows we gotta get this place fixed up, so I sweet-talked my way into a weekend off once a month this summer.”“Well, good for you. I’m probably going to take some time off too once we figure out what the contractor is going to handle and what we’re going to do ourselves. If we only work on this place on the weekends, we’ll never finish before the end of the summer. And we really need to get this thing on the market by August first or we might as well wait until spring.”That gives us almost two months, I calculate. “Agreed.” Well, at least a quick turn-around time is one thing we can both agree on. I notice she has found her shoes and slipped them on. “Where are you going?”“I think I’m going to walk over to the boardwalk and grab something to eat,” she answers. I know she sees my eyes light up because her lips turn up with the tiniest smirk. “Do you want to come with me?”She said the magical words.But wait. Going with her means being seen in public with her. Willingly. It seems a little….odd. A little too much like a….date. But my stomach is growling, and it gets to make any decisions Drew Jr. isn’t going to make, so I agree to dinner.As we're trekking along the few blocks to the boardwalk, I notice Sonnet is walking funny. "What's going on? Did you hurt your foot or something?" I ask, remembering my mother's admonishment not to be a dickhead. Of course, she didn’t put it so…colorfully."I think there's something in my shoe.” She sighs as she glances down at her hideous neon-colored running shoes, the kind that looks both ludicrous and outrageously expensive at the same time. "Hold on a sec, okay?" She gives me a little smirk.I stop walking and watch her take off her shoe. The sunlight is fading into an rusty orange streak as it slips toward the purple horizon, so she fails to see anything when she peers inside. But when she turns the shoe upside down, a small object falls out onto the sidewalk. It looks round, almost like a dollop of poop or something, so of course I have to bend down and inspect it."Ewww, it's a millipede!" I stand back up to poise my foot over it, preparing to smash it to smithereens."Wait, no!” She forcefully grabs me by the arm, and even with her tiny body, she manages to shove me a yard or two away from the creepy-crawly creature. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she demands with obvious moral outrage."Uh, protecting your honor?" I retort. Come on, she was violated by that stealthy multi-legged worm! Or at least her shoe was."It's just a harmless millipede! It didn’t do anything wrong!” She smiles, crouching down to have a closer look at it. It's all curled up into a ball, it's million legs completely hidden by its hard brown shell. It slowly unfurls and starts to wiggle across the sidewalk. "See? It's so cute!" she fawns over it, her face all animated with a grin."Yeah, real cute." I shake my head.We manage to have a fairly enjoyable dinner. She eats a huge salad heaped with every vegetable known to mankind, while I scarf down a steak and its rightful, god-ordained companion: steak fries. She tries not to get too grossed out by the salacious way I'm savoring my medium rare rotting cow flesh (as she referred to it multiple times), and I try not to get too grossed out by her unexplainable enthusiasm for broccoli. "I'm dying to see the estimates," she says as we head back to Aunt Penny's house. “I want to get this show on the road!” I nod in agreement, noticing the sun has completely surrendered to the moon, which is hanging over the ocean like a giant pearl. I can hear the waves crashing on the shore from a block away. I'd ask her if she wanted to go down there and take a look, but that feels a little too romantic – i.e. icky – in my book."What is the deal with my foot tonight?" she asks as I swing the front door open to what will hopefully soon be a charming beach cottage. "First the millipede, and now it feels...weird and kinda tingly.” She scrunches up her nose with the last word as if she can’t quite decide if she’s freaked out or in pain.She promptly sits on the plastic-covered couch to take her shoes off. She stretches her sock-covered feet out in front of her, examining them as I head into the kitchen. "Huh, seems normal,” she proclaims. I'm grabbing a beer from my trusty cooler when I hear a loud gasp, quickly followed by a sharp shriek.I take my time prying the cap off my beer bottle before heading into the living room to see what the fuss is about. I find her gripping her left foot in her hand, her eyes approximately the size of the full moon we saw hanging over the shore."Andrew!" she chokes out. "Oh my god, look at my foot!" She moves her hand away to reveal large purple splotches up and down her skin from her big toe to her heel."What the hell is that?" I ask. "Looks like purple dye!""It’s BURNING!" she screams as the air begins to circulate around her foot."What do you mean ‘burning?’" She doesn't answer me. Her face turns red as she hops up and down on her right foot all the way into the kitchen where she hoists her slim, perfectly toned leg up onto the counter. She shoves her whole left foot under the faucet, which is turned full-blast on cold."Wait, did the millipede do this?" she gasps again. "The millipede!" She turns around to look at me with her dark eyes on fire. "Google it, google it!" she demands, bouncing up and down on her right foot."Google what?" I ask her, still confused as hell but highly amused by the scene unfolding in Aunt Penny’s kitchen."Google whether or not millipedes can hurt you!" she replies as if I'm a complete moron. It's the same tone I remember her using in 9th grade when I screwed up the animal we were supposed to dissect in biology class.I whip my phone out of my pocket, and my thumbs furiously fly across the keyboard until a set of search results appear. My eyes grow to the same size as Sonnet's as I read aloud: "Certain types of millipedes release a harmful substance if they are threatened or if you handle them roughly. The harmful chemicals in millipede toxin are Hydrochloric acid, Hydrogen cyanide, Organic acids –" I throw my phone on the counter. "Holy shit, Sonnet, you've got millipede poisoning!""Oh my god, what do I do?" she screams back at me. Her face is contorted with fear and pain, her arms flailing as she wildly gestures at me. I have never seen her look so worried, not even in sixth grade when I snapped her bra so hard the strap broke, and she had to go to the nurse's office to get some help fixing it. Man, I was such a jerk! No wonder my mom told me to be nice.I pick up my phone again and continue reading, giving her the highlights, "You may notice a brown stain and/or intense burning and itching.""Yes, yes, go on!" she urges me as the cold water continues to run over her splotch-covered foot."It says you should wash with soap and water and go to the ER if it's in your eye. It's not in your eye, right?"She shakes her head with a slight sense of relief.I finish speed-reading the WebMD article. "Looks like you're good." I lay the phone back down. "Carry on then,” I encourage her with a little wave and a bow. Her eyes narrow as she processes my flippant response. "What? That's it? I'm just going to have these purple marks on my skin or what?""Yeah for a while, or so the all-powerful intrawebz say," I reassure her. I open one of Aunt Penny's drawers that I suspect contains dishcloths. Turns out I'm right. I hand her one and she pats off her foot, examining the dark patches of skin."Oh my god, they're HOT to the touch!" she gasps."Yeah, it's a chemical burn," I confirm.She shakes her head. "Who knew we had poisonous millipedes around here?!"I laugh. "I bet you wish you'd have let me stomp on it now, don't you?""Don't even!" she fires back. "Poor little defenseless thing. It's not its fault my big ole foot tried to squish it!""Really?" I look at her incredulously."Yeah, it's still a living creature. I wouldn't want to harm it!""Even though it harmed you?"She nods emphatically. "I'll be fine," she assures me. And just like that, all traces of panic are gone from her face and voice.I'm honestly impressed her freak out session was so short in duration. Hell, I would have freaked out a lot more. Better her than me, that’s for sure. K.L. Montgomery grew up in Greencastle, Indiana, and studied psychology and library science at Indiana University. After a career as a librarian, she now writes novels and wrangles three sons and four cats at her home in rural Delaware, which she shares with her husband and the aforementioned creatures. She has an undying love of Broadway musicals, the beach, the color teal, IU basketball, paisleys, and dark chocolate.
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A Losing Battle by Annie Stone - Chapter Reveal

Hunter has left home to join the Marine Corps, leaving Mackenzie behind, confused and unsure about her feelings. She loves Carter, she really, really does, but could there be a spark between her and Hunter, as well?

Mackenzie does the only thing she can in the circumstances: she buries her conflicting emotions in her work. But when she sees Hunter again, she knows the time for a decision has come.

Little does she know, time is running out for the both of them.








Coming July 24th
















Hunter

When we get out off the bus at Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego, we’re told to step onto the yellow footprints, our first formation for close-order drill. They used the bus ride to give us a first impression of our new life as Marines. To sum it up: nothing here is even remotely gentle or pleasant.
We’re allowed to call home and inform our next of kin that we’ve arrived safely. But, obviously, I don’t. I can’t risk Mac picking up. Hearing her voice would kill me. What if she sounded sad? I’d be on my way home in an instant—but that would make me a deserter. And what if she sounded happy? My heart would turn to dust.
After people have made their calls, we’re given uniforms and a “high and tight”—that hot Marine-style haircut. I already wear my hair short, but after they’re done, I’m practically bald.
That first day, we have to fill in forms, then we get some vaccines and undergo medical examinations. And then? They give us our first weapon.
For three days, we’re up and running without any sleep whatsoever. After that, we have to take the IST—the initial strength test—to see whether we’re fit to be Marines.
First, we’re required to do sit-ups—at least forty-five in two minutes. I’m glad I’m in good shape, thanks to football—and Shane. While it’s happening, I don’t really have time to see how the others do, but I do notice some of them giving up. So far, I haven’t really talked to anyone. But after three days without sleep, expecting anyone to get anything done is pretty much a miracle.
Next, we do pull-ups. We have to do three, which seems laughable. I can do way more, but no need to show them. After that, we have to complete a one-and-a-half mile run in less than thirteen and a half minutes. Not a problem. Even when groggy and sleep deprived. But this is how they separate the wheat from the chaff. I would be embarrassed to be failing already, but some of these guys really do not measure up to what’s expected of a Marine.
I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. You know when you’re dead tired, but then you keep going and get beyond that point? No? I don’t either. I’d fall asleep standing up if they’d let me. But there isn’t a quiet minute to be had. The only good thing about all this? There’s no time to think.
I reach my limits on “Black Friday.” We meet our drill instructor, who yells at us and intimidates us, pushing our psychological limits. Shane told me about this—including the fact that they make the initial stage of boot camp as confusing and disorienting as possible to let us know that civilian life is over for us, and life as a Marine is something completely different.
But it’s tough. In my family, there’s never been a lot of yelling. Dad probably yelled at me for the first time in five years just last week. And suddenly there’s this guy yelling directly into your ear, not giving you an ounce of the respect you’re used to, the respect your father always said you deserved. Your initial impulse is not to stand there and take it. Growing up in liberal California has made it difficult to take that kind of abuse. But I do anyway. I know they want total obedience so that we can function in extreme situations, and this is what I want.
But that was only the Receiving Phase.
As soon as we enter Phase One, I’ll want to go back to the first part of our training—or to any other part of my life, for that matter. Phase One will take four weeks, and they’ll break us down psychologically, trying to expel every last ounce of civilian behavior from our bones. Because we are no longer civilians. We are Marine recruits. Everything we’ve done in our lives thus far is wrong and bad for us if we want to be proper soldiers.
Strict discipline, endless training, and the same routines over and over again—these are the building blocks of our first few weeks. Training is easy for me. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but I knew it was going to be bad. I’ve been preparing myself for this, which makes it easier. I can take it. But what I really hate is all the stuff they do to rob us of our individuality. Your entire life people have been telling you to choose your own path and stop being like a sheep following the herd, and suddenly it’s the exact opposite they want from you.
We’re not supposed to be individuals. We’re supposed to be a team. And it makes sense. We need to be able to rely on each other. In combat, we can’t be successful if we’re not a cohesive unit, but it’s still tough. We’re only allowed to talk about ourselves in the third person, saying things like “This recruit understands” and stuff. Everything inside me rebels against it, but I know that’s part of it all.
At night, I lie awake trying not to think about Mac. She is my strength and my greatest weakness at the same time. I want to make her proud, show her what kind of a man I am. But thinking of her also opens up wounds inside me. It’s hard to love and not be loved back.
On the other hand, intense physical and mental exhaustion makes it impossible to give too much thought to anything. It may sound strange, but I embrace the rigidity. I don’t want to think about all the things that are going wrong in my life, and instead focus on surviving this. And it’s like the drill sergeants know it. They make sure that if they ever give us a free moment, all we want to do is sleep.
We learn about the history of the Marines, the rank structure, first aid. We study formations and uniforms. We learn how to handle our weapon, clean it, and always have it with us. We start our close-combat training. Without weapons, with repurposed weapons, and with our rifle, which is going to accompany us throughout boot camp.
We don’t talk much. Usually we’re half dead when they stop yelling in our ears. But the first friendships develop somehow. Killian Hastings is my bed neighbor. Cool guy. A natural-born soldier, a natural-born Marine. He passes every exam like he was made to do this. If he wasn’t cool, I would hate him. But he’s a team player, always thinking about others first. He is not a leader and never will be, but he is the glue you need to build a team.
Joey Montana is the second comrade I would call a friend. He’s a joker, always up for some banter. And let me tell you, I need it—especially in the third week when we start our swimming and water survival training. The pressure is getting worse. Because this is the first time they can kick us out of boot camp. Fail twice, and you can forget about being a Marine.
It’s enough to drives you to despair. But we don’t have time for that, either. We are not supposed to think, and our superiors take that idea seriously. And they’re really good at it.
Our training gets harder by the day. The stronger we get, the more they expect from us. The more our bodies get used to the strain, the tougher it gets. We’re made to repeat everything, in order to engrain it into our brains and make it muscle memory—so that we’re able to do every exercise in our sleep. It’s tiring. But nobody ever said boot camp was going to be easy.
It does help against heartbreak, though. The harder I work, the less I think of Mac, simply because my brain’s capacity is insufficient to deal with anything beyond survival.
And then there’s the part of Phase One I dread the most. The gas chamber. I don’t want to go in. But we have to. If we leave it, they send us back in. If we don’t obey, they kick us out of boot camp.
I’m standing there with my gas mask doing calisthenics when they tell us to take off our masks. I take it off and feel panic trying to conquer my insides. I can’t do this is the only thought in my head. I can’t do this, but I have no choice. I can’t give up because I wouldn’t know what else to do. I can’t go back home, back to that situation. That might make me a coward, but the thought of it just rips my heart out. Every time Dad kisses her, I want to grab her from his arms and punch him in the face because he’s kissing my girl. But I don’t think the caveman method would sit too well with him.
No, I need to stick to this. It’s all I have.
There comes the command to put our masks back on.
It’s over. My panic recedes.
The threat of Mac has saved me, even if I wish I could entertain more positive thoughts of her.
Before we go to bed, we get one hour of square-away time. It’s not every night, only when our DI says so. We have to make sure our gear is up to scratch, and while we’re not allowed to shower or sleep, we’re allowed to shave, which feels good. We’re also allowed to read and write letters. I keep getting letters from Carey, but I don’t read them, and I don’t write back. I just can’t. It makes me too sad. I feel horrible about leaving him. The only thing that makes me feel a little better is the idea that I’ve left him with Mac.
“Hey, man,” Joey says, sitting down beside me. “There’s this girl I like. She wrote to me, and I want to write back, but all I can think of is the fact that I want to stick my dick inside her.”
I smile.
“Something makes me think that wouldn’t be such a good idea,” he says. “Can you help me out?”
“It depends where you are in your relationship. Have you ever had your dick inside her?” I ask.
He smiles. “Everywhere.”
Across the room, Killian laughs. “I don’t believe you. If you’d actually been inside her ass, you’d know what to write to her.”
“A sonnet to her juicy ass?” Joey asks, laughing.
“Thinking of her juicy ass, I can survive the harshest gas,” Killian says with mock severity.
“Oh man, that was horrible,” I laugh, wiping tears from my eyes.
“When I see her juicy ass, I want her to blow my brass,” somebody else quips.
“Dude, I lose my fucking wits, sucking on her awesome tits,” yells another bard from the other side of the dorm. I laugh because it just feels good to be young and stupid for a change.
“Let me be blunt, I’d fuck her cunt.”
“She sucks my dick, it’s hard as a brick.”
“Good thing none of you have to make a living as a poet,” Joey says. “I actually like her, okay?”
“Hey, man, there’s no need to wallow. She might like you too—does she swallow?”
“Well, if she doesn’t suck it up, you can serve it to her in a cup.”
We laugh and laugh until we hear: “What exactly is there to laugh about, recruits? Free time’s over. A hundred and twenty seconds to get showered. Go!”
A hundred and twenty seconds isn’t that long, but you learn really quickly to only wash the important parts. Normally, this would include my dick—just in case it gets sucked—but there’s nobody here I would want on the job. And besides, I kind of swore an oath I would only ever let Mac do it.
Fuck. I really didn’t think that promise through.
Overall, it gets easier. A person can get used to anything. The tough training becomes second nature, and it gets easier to adjust to the whole drill. Phase Two is mainly weapons training. We’re sent to Edson Range, at Pendleton, for three weeks, where we practice marksmanship. We have to pass several exams, but they prepare us well. And let’s face it. We’ve been through worse. Still, when we get our first badges for marksmanship, it feels good to have achieved something tangible, to get to tick some boxes.
I don’t know whether it’s because we’re going through the same experience, or maybe you just get used to each other more easily in times of crisis, but Killian and Joey become like brothers to me. I don’t want to put Carey down, but I would entrust my life to them before him.
It also quickly becomes clear why the buddy system is such a hit. It is much easier to make it through difficult situations when you have moral support. We cheer and egg each other on—whenever we’re not too tired to open our mouths. Without my two buddies, this would be much harder.
Killian is from Texas and looks like an all-American boy. Normally. There’s hardly anything left of his blond hair, but his blue eyes still shine, even at the ends of the toughest days. He’s tall, not as tall as me, but then again, few are. He has a sunny disposition, and nothing can faze him. He’s always cool, never reacts to people teasing him. Not that a lot of them would try. I guess with his looks, you’re predestined to be respected.
Joey, on the other hand, is small. Sometimes I wonder aloud how he passed the minimum height and weight requirements—but only to tease him. He’s not actually that small, and he has endless strength and endurance. Where Killian and I have trouble with our height, Joey always gets through. Not that I’m jealous or anything.
At the end of our marksmanship training, the platoons compete with each other, and we win, breaking out into enthusiastic cheers. This really lifts morale on our team, and it also earns us a bonus. We’re allowed to make phone calls. A privilege I don’t use…
Still, the next week feels like we’re on break. They take our measurements for our gala uniforms, and any medical conditions are treated. It’s only four weeks left. Then we’re done. The goal during our final phase is to put everything we’ve learned together and polish our initial skill set. This includes an exam and a performance test that I pass with flying colors.
I’m stronger than I was a few weeks ago, not just physically, but mentally, too. I no longer have any doubt: I know what my life is going to look like, and I have accepted it. Physically, I’m somewhat wider, having built up more muscle. And it’s made me feel more at home inside my body. Often, when you’re tall, you subconsciously hunch down in order not to stand out. And even though I’ve always been relatively confident, I’ve always had to bend down to communicate with other people. Which messed with my posture. And, in psychological terms, it does the same to you as walking through life with a bent back.
But now? Now I have a completely different outlook.
Boot camp has given me a new confidence, the type of confidence you can only gain knowing that you’ll be able to defend yourself in any situation you’ll ever face—be it with words, weapons, or your own bare hands.
At the end of boot camp, we’re divided into groups to do a final exam lasting two days. It’s a combat simulation testing us in different stress situations, including sleep and food deprivation, and danger to your body and your life.
It is difficult, but it’s surprising how you can turn into a completely different person in such a short period of time. Twelve weeks ago, I would never have believed I could do this. Now, it seems like I was born to do it, like I’ve never done anything else in my life. And it feels good. It shows what I’ve achieved, what I can achieve if I make up my mind. A lot of it is physical, but it is the mental strength I’ve gained that really surprises me.
After twelve weeks, we’re done. Finally, I want to say. But that’s not how I feel.
Now it feels like I’m leaving my family all over again. It’s not a good feeling.
Joey wants to join the infantry, while Killian and I are going to do twenty-nine days of Marine Combat Training before joining the Marine Combatant Divers. At least it’s good to know I don’t have to leave everybody behind again.
After graduation, we’ll get ten days off. Killian has invited me to Texas, and I’ve decided to accept because I still can’t imagine going home. And I have nowhere else to go.

Everybody is desperate for our graduation ceremony. Not just because it means we’ve made it, but because they’re proud. They want to show their loved ones what they’ve achieved. Personally, I don’t care about that part of it, but I haven’t told the others that when I’m done here, I won’t have anybody waiting to congratulate for me.
At the ceremony, we stand in formation to listen to the final talk, the finish to this chapter of our training. As Marines. All around me, my comrades are hugging their mothers, sisters, and girlfriends. All around me, there is love.
But I’m all alone.
“Hey, soldier!” I hear the voice behind me but don’t turn.
For a moment, I stay completely still, certain I’m hallucinating. Finally, I turn around.
And there’s Mac, standing in front of me in a summer dress. She is so beautiful my breath stops for a moment.
“Marine,” I say softly.
She smiles. “Hey, Marine.”
She comes closer, somewhat unsure about how to act, before throwing herself around my neck. I hug her back, pick her up, and squeeze her really tight.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers in my ear.
Fuck, hearing that from her really turns me on!
When, after half an eternity, I put her back down, I look into her teary eyes. “How did you know?”
She shrugs. “I’m stalking you.”
I smile. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more beautiful in my life. “Oh, really?”
“I knew you wouldn’t tell me, but I wanted you to know how incredibly proud of you I am. I knew you’d make it.”
Right now, I feel ten feet tall instead of six. No, wait! I’m not even mortal. I’m a god!
My girl is proud of me. Is there anything in the world better than that?
“Carey’s here, too,” she says.
I look around and see him standing a little off to the side. He looks insecure, like he doesn’t know whether he’s welcome here. I hate myself for making my brother question whether I care about him. I run over to him and pull him into my arms.
“I’ve missed you, bro,” I say quietly, patting him on the back
“You never wrote back,” he says, his fingers clawing into my uniform like he never wants to let me go again.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t. I always wanted to, but I couldn’t. It would have broken my focus.”
Carey nods. “I thought…”
“I’m sorry, man. I always want you in my life. You’re my brother. The only family I’ve got.”
“You’ve got Mac, too,” he says quietly, and I look over at her. She’s standing a few steps away, her cheeks shiny, looking at us but giving us privacy.
I nod. “I’ve got Mac, too, but not like I want her.” Oops. That just came out. I wasn’t planning to tell Carey.
But he says, “I know.”
I give him a surprised look. “You do?”
“I’m not blind. Your goodbye kiss was pretty obvious,” he says. “And I’m not deaf, either. Dad and Mac fight about you all the time.”
“That bad?”
He shrugs just as Mac steps closer. “Is everything okay, boys?”
I nod, putting my arm around her shoulders to pull her close again. I plant a kiss on her head.
“Hey, Tilman!” Joey calls, coming toward us.
“Hands off,” I joke before I introduce him. He kisses Mac’s hand and smiles at Carey.
“My parents want to go grab a bite to eat. They wanted to invite my friends. You coming?”
I look at Mac and Carey.
“They can come,” Joey says quickly.
Mac shakes her head. “Thanks, that’s really sweet, but I need to go.” She avoids my eye, and I know she’s thinking about Dad.
I make an effort to hide my disappointment as I tell Joey, “Carey and I’ll be there in a second.”
“I’m sorry,” Mac whispers.
“It’s okay,” I say, even though nothing is okay. In that moment, I realize—no, remember—that she’s never going to leave Dad for me.
This needs to stop. Otherwise I will not survive it.
“How long do you get off?” she asks.
“Ten days.”
“Are you coming home?”
“Home. Nice word, but I no longer have one,” I say, shocked at the bitterness in my own voice.
She nods, tears running down her cheeks. “I—”
“Let it go, Mac. Let it go.”
She quickly presses herself against me and runs away without turning around again. I look after her.
“Hunt…”
“She’s never going to leave him, is she?”
Carey shrugs. “No idea, man. But I wouldn’t wait for it.”















I'm a contemporary romance writer, who likes her men tattooed, her women independent and her coffee strong.

My stories are all about love, but some are of the romantic kind, some of the sad kind and others of the very steamy kind. So if you can stand drama, foul language and sex, you came to the right place.

Love, Annie


Author Links
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Thanks for joining us at Tears of Crimson. Home to Bestselling Author Michelle Hughes,and all the Friends of Crimson!

Railroaded - T.R. Bell

Title: Railroaded: Part 1Author: T.R. BellGenre: Contemporary Erotic RomanceRelease Date: July 18, 2017  Chicago, a sprawling and diverse city known for its rich history. It compels intrigue, mystery, and unthinkable possibilities.Damon Bowers, a self-righteous bachelor, who has it all-money, power, friends, and good looks. After losing a bet between his buddies, they plan the ultimate debt for him.Can he fulfill the obligation?Nicki Matthews, an independent, young, attractive intern with a heart of gold who aspires to help others. Her friends take her for an early birthday dinner, when she's abruptly thrown into this unimaginable act of Damon Bowers.Two worlds collide on a single moment changing lives forever, but can they avoid the pitfalls of what lies ahead?
Living in the bustle of the Windy City, I have at my disposal the scenery for inspiration. Though born and raised in the very heart of this great country, Kansas City will always be my home. I'm on this great adventure to open your hidden desires. I've read many wonderful novels that continue to inspire me each and every day. If you cannot find me typing diligently at my laptop, then you'll see me roaming the streets of Chicago. Who knows, I may be the person strutting behind you. a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Losing My Religion - A.S. Tucker

Title: Losing My ReligionAuthor: A.S. TuckerGenre: M/M RomanceRelease Date: July 27, 2017Only 99 Pennies Jaden Barker is a good boy.For as long as he can remember, he’s been preparing for the day he’ll be called as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. He’s ready. He’s more than willing. And he can’t wait to spend the next two years serving the Lord and his church. But when a new proclamation from the church is announced, it leaves him questioning everything.Quinn Owens is trouble with a capital T.An aspiring actor living in the bowels of Los Angeles, he’s fought long and hard to get where he is, and he’s not willing to give it up for anything. Working for a homophobic boss presents quite a challenge when you’re a gay man, but Quinn knows losing this job means losing his dream. Jaden is lost and confused.Quinn won’t let anything stand in his way.But when Jaden finds himself living downstairs from the enticing Quinn, neither are prepared for what happens next.Will Jaden be able to resist Quinn’s charms and remain a devoted Mormon missionary? Or will he fall, finding himself face to face with losing his religion? a Rafflecopter giveaway
A military brat growing up, A.S. Tucker now resides in Utah with her loving husband. When not writing, you'll find her reading, binge watching Netflix, or drinking wine. Her three favorite things are animals, coffee, and Harry Potter, not necessarily in that order. She is the author of three other novels, published under a different pen name. She loves hearing from her readers, so please drop her a line! HOSTED BY:
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When the Night Ends Cover Reveal

Where the Night Ends Cover Reveal


Where the Night Ends
It only takes one night—one moment, one small snippet of time—to change everything. At sixteen-years-old, Sebastian Baxter taught me that. He taught me a lot of things.
He never had to work for my heart. In some unexplainable way I think it had always belonged to him anyway.
We spent years loving each other, hurting each other, trying to forget each other, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never erase the memory of him. His eyes, his smile, his touch—these are all things that are embedded in my brain, tattooed on my skin, and etched into my heart.
Some might think our love story is over, but deep down I know it’s only just beginning.
Because it’s not about where the night begins, it’s about where it ends…
Where the Night Ends is a standalone, coming of age, romance. 






Melissa Toppen is a Reader's Choice Award Winning and Bestselling Romance Author of New Adult, Contemporary, Erotic and Romantic Suspense. She is a lover of books and enjoys nothing more than losing herself in a good novel. She has a soft spot for Romance and focuses her writing in that direction; writing what she loves to read.
Melissa was born and raised in a small town in Ohio and now resides in Cincinnati with her husband and two children, where she writes full time.

In addition to spending time with family and friends, Melissa loves going to concerts and is obsessed with the T.V. shows Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, Once Upon a Time and Outlander.
Connect with Melissa Toppen



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Hopechest - Kailee Reese Samuels

Title: HopechestSeries: The SOS Series Book 4Author: Kailee Reese SamuelsGenre: Dark Erotic RomancePublished: July 2, 2017 Kaci agreed to the most important question of her life.And then she had her fiancé taken hostage.He played her game and trained for battle. And now he is completely unprepared to lose. Loving her once, Sal fell for her eccentric, wild pixie. She used her abilities—aiming her target to get revenge—but Kaci stumbled into a dangerous love, putting Sal through a gut-wrenching hell. Can Sal ever forgive her sins of the past? With the questions on the table, one inescapable truth looms before their relationship. His calculating mind and intimidating body built for the greater good, leaving Sal changed. No longer the curious submissive boy of the past, his new outlook is one of defiance, kink, and control.Will Kaci embrace the changes – or – is the end closer than she ever imagined?There is nothing he can do—No praying on his knees for forgivenessNo bargaining with the devil to save their relationship In this heartbreaking battle, Sal will lose.In the fourth and final book of The Story of Salvatore, Sal Raniero begs to reverse the clock as reality leaks into his perfect bubble. With his love of the fetish world shoved to the backburner, he learns not only the meaning of love, but how precious time is. The war begins when Sal rages into Sugargrove—Nothing safe from his wrathNothing sacred in his path …including the Hope he longed to keep.

“Hopechest is a beautifully written, emotional book.” ~Two Darlin’ Dolls and a Book Review

“A binge worthy series that will leave you with one hell of a book hangover.” ~Amazon Review (Jamie)

“Kailee really knows how to pull you into a book & make it hard for you to put down.” Amazon Review (SJ)

     Embracing diversity. Coffee addict. Mango lover. Blueberry fetishist. Sweet peach tea crazy. Red wine devout. Whiskey deviant. Tattooed & pierced. Loves shoes. Collects rosaries. Fanatical organizer/cleaner/list-maker. Never sleeps. Hermit and recluse.Storyteller. KAILEE REESE SAMUELS has been spinning tales since she can remember. Her books are contemporary fiction with a no-holds-barred attitude. She adores listening to her character’s ramble and putting them into situations that push the boundaries. Creativity is the way to change.  HOSTED BY:
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Orion - Raeah Wilding

Title: OrionSeries: A Constellation Novel #1Author: Allie Juliette Mousseau writing as Raeah WildingGenre: Military RomanceRelease Date: August 15, 2017 Photographer: Michael Stokes PhotographyCover Designer: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

When U.S. Marine Corp Sgt. Orion MacKinnon loses both his legs in the bloody sands of Afghanistan, he forsakes his soul along with them. After retiring to a remote location in the snowy mountains of Alaska with his Special Forces canine companion—a German Shepherd named Zeus—he becomes a recluse and vows never to wear the prosthetic legs he keeps buried out of sight…
until a lone hiker becomes trapped beneath an avalanche on his mountain.The woman Orion calls Hope can’t recall a shred of her former life. As he tends to her wounds she slowly begins to unravel the tight seclusion he has wrapped around himself.She can’t remember her past. He only wants to forget his.However, the two have more in common with the forces that brought them together than they realize, including the sinister presence that will threaten their very lives.When their pasts collide, will they survive the future?
Raeah Wilding is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes sexy, emotionally-charged New Adult romance and is the "pen-personality" of Allie Juliette Mousseau.
She can usually be found day-dreaming and writing about sexy, heroic, alpha males and strong-willed, intelligent women and plotting ways to make them fall in love!Raeah/Allie loves traveling and adventuring everywhere and anytime she can - whether it's in the physical world, within the pages of a great book or in her own wandering imagination. She believes and lives by two magical mottos: All who wander are not lost and Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History.She resides in an RV (on purpose), in state, national parks and forests and campgrounds with her children and fur babies. She loves being in touch with readers!
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