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Blessing of Luna
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Realization hit Damien as to who he was staring down. The same dark god that had challenged him stood in Lilith’s form. Damien’s heart inside his chest burned as he thought about Kain and all he’d done for him. Jill. Dad…Rob…Gabriel…Holt…Chelsea. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Damien. You can surrender and die in peace or you can fight and die anyway. Your choice.” Save him. Luna’s voice inside of Damien’s mind drew his attention. Save him. I beg of you. Please. Damien’s body became surrounded with a radiant light so bright it forced Lilith step back. Her wing covered her face. He braced himself on his front legs, roaring at the monster in front of him responsible for taking so much. The light became so intense not even the lycans could stare at it. When it finally faded, Damien stood in his true lycan form. His white fur blew in the wind like mist at the tip of his stiffened ears to the end of his tail. The dark markings of his wolf form only seen on the tips of his ears, feet and tail. The fur on the back of his neck was thicker, almost resembling a mane. “By the gods, he looks like…” Lune stood in awe. “Tenebris.” Gabriel’s finished, his voice nothing but a whisper. Stoker used the opportunity to sneak off, nursing the wound on his arm inflicted by Gabriel when he shifted into his full lycan form. The vampires hissed at the light rising from the east, trying to flee towards the waning night. They had fallen right into Damien’s plan and were intercepted. Howls and snarls joined dying screams as the vampires were overwhelmed. “What trickery is this?!” Lilith’s fangs spat as she tried to speak. Damien ignored her, seeing the fear in her eyes as he made his way over to Kain on the ground. The alpha was so weak he couldn’t retain his shifted form. “Kain.” Damien’s voice was a comfortable echo. Warm and reassuring. “Alex. Can you hear me?” Kain opened his eyes, slightly jumping. “Tenebris?” Damien shook his head. “No. It’s me.” “Damien. How?” Damien took Kain’s jacket he was always wearing around his waist and covered his friend with it. “Stay here. Don’t move and don’t die.” He stood back up and went to face Lilith. The lycans in his way stepped aside, their heads bowed. “This ends here, Lilith. You won’t hurt anyone else.”
GIVEAWAY!
Title: The Trickster's Hunt
Series: Three Tricksters Harem #1
Authors: Carrie Whitethorne & Kel Carpenter
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: May 18, 2018
Have you ever had a feeling like something bad was going to happen? What about a gut reaction to someone you had never met? You know what I’m talking about. The times where something just doesn’t feel right, so you turn and walk the other way only to find out someone got robbed down the same alley you decided not to turn down.
I get that feeling a lot. I thought it was normal. I didn’t know it was a warning. I didn’t know it was there to keep me alive.
There’s a lot of things I didn’t know, but what I now know…it’s got me scared senseless.
Turns out, the Gods are real.
Destiny is real.
Fate is something that we can’t always control.
And me? I’m just a human caught up in a game of the Gods. Except—I’m not. Not really. I’m someone else entirely, according to the three genies who have sworn to protect me.
From what? Well to explain that, we’re going to have to go way back to Ancient Egypt. A land of monsters and Gods and wars.
Where do I fit in? Smack bang in the middle, by the looks of it.
I managed five lengths of the pool before I lost the ability to breathe and positioned myself on the steps leading down into the water for a rest. That was when he walked in.I’m pretty sure I gawked. I couldn’t help it. Most people would have found it odd that all these fit guys were wandering around, but not me. I was damn grateful for them.He was tall; taller than the other two, broader across the shoulders, and ripped. Not that I was comparing. I make a point of appreciating the male form in most of its varieties.He ignored me, walking around to the deeper end of the pool. I shamelessly watched him pass. The past two days I’d been subject to the torture of two flirting men. The one passing me now, with his honey coloured skin, rippling abs, and short boxed beard, was one too many. His choice of swimwear didn’t help either.Nope. Nothing left to the imagination other than how his blood pressure fared. There was no one else there, and I was about to go back to my room when a cat sauntered over. I didn’t see where it had come from, but it had a collar and was a grey striped colour.It sat there for ages, staring me out, its tail flicking from side to side. Then it walked around the table a few times. When it came right up and pawed at my leg, I wasn’t sure what to do. “Umm...go on. Shoo.”It didn’t.It kept tapping at my leg. I was going to swipe it away when it jumped up into my lap, purring and pressing its face down the side of the chair next to my hip. I grabbed it and dropped it on the floor next to me.Rather than take the hint, the tenacious little shit leapt effortlessly onto the table, barely avoiding knocking the glass over, and turned to face me as it sat down. It looked pissed off, until it sat its arse down, lifted its leg, and began to clean itself.
Carrie is a mum. An author. A creator of worlds. A dreamer. A friend.
At her childhood home in Yorkshire, Carrie was encouraged to utilize her imagination, to see things for what they could be, and to ask the question “what if?” Her mum introduced her to worlds filled with magic: Barrie, Lewis, Tolkien, Blyton. That magic evolved and continued to inspire her when she discovered Rowling and Sanderson. They all asked the question and explored the possibilities, opening doors to new adventures that would forever change generations to come.
Even as a child, Carrie preferred creative outlets and writing. But as an adult, Carrie had not yet had that moment of inspiration to begin writing a novel of her own. That all changed one normal morning, on a normal walk to school, when a small boy slipped from the pavement and on to the road. There was no accident. No horror. Just a near miss that later formulated into one question: what if he was able to save himself? Fueled by this question and Carrie’s love of fantasy, European folklore, and mythological creatures, The Riftkeepers emerged. This world answered her question. The series gave birth to characters that took on a life of their own, many telling continued stories in novellas and spinoffs.
When Carrie isn’t writing and annoying her editor with endless typos, she barely sleeps, thinks about her characters, indulges in an unhealthy Facebook addiction, exploring the beauty of the Lake District as her backyard, and contemplating which she loves more: pizza or wine. Definitely wine. Considered to be one of the most boring people she knows, writing her own biography was a definite weakness. Her first draft was rubbish and was picked apart by friends who insisted she was funnier and far more interesting than she gives herself credit. She was no longer allowed to write her own biography, so she provided input.
Carrie now resides in West Cumbria with her husband and two children. They are her inspiration. Her world.
Kel Carpenter is a USA Today Bestselling Author and writer of all things fantasy. She loves reading, watching Netflix original shows, and subjecting her favorite co-author and editor to crazy, harebrained book ideas. Kel currently resides in Atlanta, GA with her boyfriend and three fur-children. When she is not writing or working on completing her senior year of college, she is spending time with her dog, Harley, or teasing her two cats with a laser pointer.
Synopsis: When everything is on the line, how far will you go to protect those you love? What if the cost of saving them is your soul? Would you pay it? I thought I was prepared for what was coming; that if I made sacrifices, I could win this game. I’m no longer afraid of the darkness or the monsters that hide in the shadows. I’ve become what I feared most, allowing it in to protect those I loved. Sometimes it takes a monster to win. Sometimes to fight monsters, you have to become one. My only fear is…can I come back from it? Add to Goodreads and find buy links: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38715998-sleeping-with-monsters?ac=1&from_search=true Review: Mind … blown. So much happened that I should have expected, yet I didn’t. At least, not the way it turned out in the end. And the ending … WTH? So many twists and turns. I need the next book, like, yesterday! OMG, Hutchins, what were you thinking? So, yeah, I know this isn’t much of a review, but I don’t know what to say without giving the book away. I ADORED the first book. And after so long, waiting for the next one, I HAD to read it again before starting this one. And after finally getting into the second book, I could NOT put it down. Now I know I am going to be one depressed not-so-nice-word until the next book is released. ~ Review by Kristin R. Campbell, author of the Lunangelique series 5 WTH-Just-Happened Stars!
Title: The Last Resort Motel: Room 58
Series: The Last Resort Motel #5
Author: BT Clearwater
Genre: Supernatural Romance
Release Date: May 10, 2018 Cover Credit: Sonya Van Horne
Maggie and Claire couldn't be more different, especially where love is concerned. Maggie, stuck in the middle of the Nevada desert, has given up on men, on romance, and on herself. Claire has escaped her care facility and fled to the desert to meet her husband for their fiftieth anniversary, leaving behind drugs that help mitigate the symptoms of a disease. But when Claire's husband is late and a mysterious man shows up in her room, Claire finds herself giving in to temptation. Meanwhile, Maggie struggles to keep her self-imposed moratorium on men when a rogue biker starts revving his way into her hear. With the authorities closing in, and Claire's health declining rapidly, time is short. One woman must learn to let go, while the other has to hold on if either is going to find love at the Last Resort Motel.
12 rooms. 12 authors. 12 unique stories.
January - Gwyn McNamee - Room 1 - Available NOW
February - Crystal Perkins - Room 10 - Available NOW
March - S Van Horne - Room 519 - Available NOW
April - Dee Kelly - Room 13 - Available NOW
May - B.T. Clearwater - Room 58 - Available NOW
June - M.C. Webb - Room 212
July - Megan Matthews - Room 29
August - Elizabeth Otto - Room 100
September - Ann Mayburn - Room 419
October - Geri Glenn - Room 666
November - Winter Travers - Room 19
December - Betty Shreffler - Room 15
B.T. Clearwater grew up writing stories, winning Literary Student of the Year for Lake George Central High School in 1984. He holds a Bachelor's Degree in English from the University of Nebraska at Omaha, and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Western State Colorado University, graduating both Summa Cum Laude, and is a two-time alum of the Superstars Writing Seminars run by Kevin J. Anderson. B.T. routinely judges the Zebulon writing contest for Pike's Peak Writers, and has published fiction under the science fiction, fantasy, romance, western, horror, and crime genres under different pen names. B.T. Clearwater lives in Colorado Springs with a dog, a cat, and a cast of fictional characters for company.
According to Audrey
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Leo gently took the bag from my nose and wrapped the ice in the washcloth. “This will be more comfortable,” he said, eyeing my nose like an expert. “It doesn’t look swollen at all, that’s good.” He put the ice into my hand and helped guide it back to my face. It was not possible to feel any more un-pretty than at this moment. Pain and embarrassment had now mingled into one big uncomfortable feeling. But another feeling was creeping up. I stole another glance at him. He looked like a Hollywood film star from the 1950s—chiseled, with a squinty stare. I summoned the nerve to look into his eyes and finally spoke. “Thanks, I think I’m okay.” My attraction clashed with my desire to hide. Suddenly I wanted him to go away and stay all at the same time. His brown eyes locked onto mine, and his mouth turned up at the corners. Was he enjoying my embarrassment? I had no choice but to laugh. “What?” I asked, pulling the ice away from my face. He grinned and sat down next to me. “Dove, you need to keep the ice on it,” he said, placing it back onto my nose. The gentle way he said my name made my heart race faster and I searched his face, drinking in its sincerity: his deep gaze—somehow it made me feel safe, and his lips seemed to be just waiting to… kiss me. All at once, my enamored thoughts screeched to an abrupt stop. No way. My stomach twisted into a painful knot. How could I have fallen for the sensitive, caring act? Was I really lame enough to get all dreamy-eyed over a few sweet words and a pack of ice? There was no way I was going to end up as one of his conquests. With the ice still held to my nose, I stood with as much dignity as possible. “Thanks, I’m fine now.” I lowered the ice and looked straight into his dark, concern-filled eyes, shooting him a glare. “I have to go.”
GIVEAWAY! The Trouble with Unicorns
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo --
GIVEAWAY!
MASKED DESIRE
The Masked Arcana #2 by Alana Delacroix Genre: Paranormal Romance
A Perfect Disguise
As security chief of the supernaturals’ ruling council, Michaela Chui has seen more than her fair share of disaster. For centuries, she’s survived through caution and strategy. But when the only human councilor is viciously murdered, Michaela knows the coincidences that keep blocking her investigation are a sure sign of bad things to come. She needs answers fast. And her only ally is Cormac Redoak: wild, unpredictable, unreliable—and worse, distractingly attractive. A Hidden Truth An exile from the court of the Fairy Queen, Cormac has all the experience with careful strategy and veiled intentions he can stand. But he also has the fey talent for getting his way, and he’s sure his way lies with Michaela’s. No matter that she can change her lovely face at will; there’s a clarity to her being that he’d know anywhere. Working with her will be temptation and frustration bound together. Somehow, though, he must convince her to trust him—without revealing the secrets he dares never share . . .
Michaela locked the car door and was checking the handle when a soft, low growl came from behind her.
“Councilor. You’re here early.” Not now. It was too early in the morning. She steeled herself to face Cormac Redoak, exiled fey, special ambassador to the Pharos Council, and world-class pain. “Ambassador,” she said briskly, heaving her bag over her shoulder. “May I take that for you?” Even after centuries away from the fey homeland, he still had a bit of an accent, almost but not quite Irish. “No.” She walked towards the door. Although they had known each other for decades, she’d had few conversations with him, and in fact tended to avoid him. Not because of the wild rumors that surrounded his exile from the fey court or because she’d been on the receiving end of more than one of his inquisitions when she’d objected to his schemes. He was too erratic for her. Wild. Unstable. Even his eyes refused to stay a single color. Right now they were a light jade but could easily change to gray or brown depending on his mood. This criticism was grossly hypocritical coming from a masquerada and she knew it. Her eyes, like the rest of her, could be transformed in a breath to become part of any masque she chose. That was the point, though. While Cormac was at the mercy of his emotions, she needed to keep perfect control at all times. Failure—if her masque slipped and humans witnessed a shift—would result in a breach of the Law. Worse, she could lose her natural self in a sea of other personalities: the dreaded convergence. Cormac said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and damned the consequences. The ambassador was not a man who accepted limits to his desires and it made her wary. “I want to speak about our discussion the other day,” he said. She didn’t bother to look at him. “By discussion you mean when you attempted, and failed, to humiliate me in front of half the Council?” He made an airy details, details gesture. “I asked for a simple clarification.” “About a subject you had no business with and at a meeting to which you were not invited.” She reached out to pull the door open but he moved in front of her with the fluid grace typical of the fey. For a moment she breathed in his unique pine scent—the one thing she enjoyed about him. Then she silently brushed by with a nod of thanks, mind already on the day’s agenda. She had about ten minutes before she was due to meet Madden, enough time for a few emails and to re-check her calendar. “I assumed my invitation was lost. Luckily Hiro told me about it.” She kept walking. “Which he also had no business doing. We have meeting procedures for a reason.” “Procedures are for the masses.” He paused when they reached her office door. “Look, Michaela, my point remains valid.” Michaela opened the door. “As I said before—” Her voice trailed off as she flicked on the light. “Good God.” Cormac peered in, then tried to block the door. “You don’t want to see this.” Did the man not remember she was the Pharos security chief? She shoved him aside. “That’s Hiro. In my office.” Cormac stood beside her, his cool skin brushing her hand. “It was Hiro,” he corrected. “It’s not anymore.”
MASKED POSSESSION
The Masked Arcana #1 A Man Who Can Wear Any Face Caro Yeats doesn’t run from much. As a former investigative reporter now working PR for Toronto’s supernaturals, what she hasn’t seen mostly isn’t worth seeing. But the assignment to “rebrand” Eric Kelton’s out-of-control alter egos has her on edge from the start. Kelton is the heirarch of the Masquerada, beings able to change their face—their entire persona—on a whim. Eric’s charisma muddles her instincts. How can she trust a man who can become anybody? A Woman Without A Past Eric has never met anyone like Caro, with her lightning wit and uncanny insight. But desirable as she is, he’d be a fool to let her near. Struggling to hide the sudden loss of his powers, Eric can’t risk becoming entangled with a woman who scorns her supernatural side and claims not to play politics. The enemies on her trail are strong, clever, and vicious. And when they force Eric and Caro together, the fallout could shatter far more than two hearts . . .
Alana Delacroix lives in a little house filled with books in Toronto, Canada. She loves exploring the city, on the hunt for both the perfect coffeeshop as well as ideal locations to set her paranormal romances. A member of RWA, Alana worked as an archaeologist before forging a slightly more stable career in corporate communications.
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Title: The Devil You Know
Series: Ceasefire Series #1 Author: Claire Marta Genre: Dark Paranormal Romance Release: April 12, 2018
Blurb:
My name is Mavi St. Clair. I’m a monster with a pretty face. An assassin in trade. Guilt, remorse, it’s never touched me. I’m as cold as they come and just as professional. Dealing death has always come easily, and I inflict it with ease. It fuels and feeds the twisted darkness inside me. My downfall begins with a single night of untamed passion leaving me hungering for more of him. One wicked soul recognizing another. Now he owns me. The lines of what I know are blurred. I'm playing his game. A pawn, eternally tangled in a web of secrets and lies. He won’t let me go. Taking pleasure in my fall from grace. Question is, can I save myself before I'm damned completely? *This is a dark erotic paranormal romance and contains certain triggers some readers may not enjoy. Due to scenes of an adult nature, this book is for 18+ ONLY.*
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38593254-the-devil-you-know---ceasefire-series-book-1
Buy Links: Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2EB2UDB Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2H9g4gB Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2qk7DFn Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2JxCYN7
Review:
This book flowed so well and had so much action that I couldn’t put it down! Every page, there were fight scenes, sex, kidnappings, confrontations, blood, murder, violence, and more sex. It was nonstop from the very first page. There were a lot of twists, too. There were some things I questioned right away that turned out right, and some were surprises. I liked how everything was slowly unraveled. And the ending! ARGH! That cliffhanger had me throwing my kindle because I don’t have the next one yet. I NEED to know where the story is going next! The only thing that bothered me about was Mavi’s nonreaction whenever she was raped, and this happened a few times. She hid herself away and had normal reactions when other bad things happened, yet she didn’t blink an eye at being violated. And yeah, Mavi is not a normal person, nowhere near, yet her other normal reactions aren’t in sync. Overall, this is a kick butt book with a strong, messed-up, sexy woman assassin who has a strong will and a mind of her own. The erotic scenes are off the charts, the fight scenes will have you biting your nails, and the ending will leave you wanting more.
4.5 Stars
Author Bio:
A native Brit, I live in Italy with my husband and daughter. When I am not writing and drinking copious amounts of tea, I enjoys taking photos of my adoptive country, trying to stay fit with running, reading amazing books and being a stay at home mother.
Social Media Links:
Readers Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/898725670258533/ Facebook Page: https://m.facebook.com/clairemartabooks/ Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/ClaireMBooks Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/clairemartawritesbooks/ Website: https://clairemarta.wixsite.com/clairemarta Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/Claire-Marta/e/B01KDNYHBQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1
Echoes of Angels
Keepers of Eternity Book 1
by Devyn Quinn
Genre: Paranormal Romance
If you like dark paranormal romance, you’ll love the Keepers of Eternity series by Devyn Quinn!
“This is an exciting, atmospheric story. . . . A dark fantasy with tortured characters and dramatic events, Echoes of Angels is a very promising start to a new series. 4½ stars.” --Romantic Times
With her life in shambles and nowhere to turn, Julienne Blackthorne has no choice but to accept her grandmother’s offer to return to her ancestral home—a home Julienne’s mother fled in fear more than twenty years ago. What she finds there is a world so macabre it haunts her senses and fills her with dread. And the darkly compelling Morgan Saint-Evanston, whose mysterious pull haunts her in more sensual ways.
Morgan was once the most feared mercenary in a sinister realm and was destined to become the leader of his people—a duty he abandoned when his tormented soul drove him to seek exile in the mortal world. Tortured by his betrayal and the knowledge that those who dwell on the dark side will one day have their vengeance, he turns to the beautiful Julienne for one last moment of solace. Because the veils separating the worlds are about to open, and Morgan knows he must take the fight to the enemy before the forces of darkness unleash their unholy hell on mankind.
As Julienne surrenders to the undeniable passion that flares between them and Morgan prepares to confront a fate he cannot ignore, both will be plunged into a realm where human souls are open barter and even the power of love may not be enough to save them.
**Only .99 Cents!**
The flight into Belmonde, Virginia, was a blur. Julienne Hunter spent most of the journey in the washroom, carefully retouching the layers of cosmetics she wore. Without them, she looked vulnerable, haggard and drawn, and she wasn’t ready for anyone to see her up close.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing in five minutes. Please make sure your seats and tray tables are in the upright and locked position and your seatbelts are fastened.” The voice on the intercom was cold and lifeless, an impassionate end to an uneventful trip. Arranging her belongings, Julienne returned to her seat. Despite her success at disguising her flaws, she was still a bundle of raw nerves. Strands of her copper hair clung to her perspiring face and neck. She simply couldn’t relax. How could she? In a matter of minutes, she was due to meet the family her mother had left behind over twenty years ago. “I have to believe it will be all right,” she murmured. It had to be. She had no other place to go. When it was time to deplane, she took a deep breath. She wanted to be calm. Disciplined. She drew her purse onto her shoulder. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t cease fluttering as she walked down the canopied ramp. Entering the terminal, she surveyed the unfamiliar area. Other travelers milled past her, forcing her to follow their migration. Friends and families around her met and greeted, chattering in animated conversation. Doubling her pace, she passed passengers hurrying to board outgoing flights. Weaving her way around jostling bodies, she realized she didn’t know who was supposed to meet her. She thought about buying a ticket back to California. What would it hurt? If she wanted to leave, her exit would be assured. She dug her billfold out of her purse. Opening it, she was dismayed to discover thirty-two dollars and fifty-eight cents. “Shit.” Her hands quivered a little, and it took a moment for her to fight off the crushing sense of helplessness. She had credit cards, but they were over limit. Her cell phone, unpaid for months, was useless. She was dead broke, part of the reason she’d agreed to return to Virginia. That, and the fact that her soon-to-be ex-husband had tried to kill her. Julienne winced, remembering the assault. Two days after she’d asked for a divorce, James Hunter had accosted her outside a popular Miami hot spot. Using a box cutter, he’d carved deep gashes into her face before horrified onlookers could stop him. Though the disjointed memories were blurred, she’d never forget the searing pain of the razor. When she’d separated from James, she hadn’t thought he’d follow through with his threats to get even with her. Looking back, she knew their marriage had been a damned union from the beginning. They met when she was seventeen and waiting tables in LA. She was looking for her big break in Hollywood. A minor agent, representing D-list clients, he’d promised to make her a star. James had also introduced her to crack cocaine in a Singapore nightclub. He was already an addict; her modeling jobs supported his habit. She’d tried it to please him, believing she wouldn’t get hooked if she used it sparingly. She was wrong. The drug turned her into a junkie, too. The night James slashed her face had been her second trip to the hospital in less than two months. Both times she’d nearly died, and both times she’d been fueled on the drug. Bitter recriminations ricocheted through her mind. She always made bad decisions. James. The drugs. After years of struggling, her brief brush with fame was over. As though reaching for a talisman, she slipped her hand back into her purse, brushing the tips of her fingers across a sheaf of letters she’d carried for months. The cloying scent of vanilla still clung to the pages. Grandmother Anlese. Thank God for her letters. If nothing else, they proved someone in her family cared whether she lived or died. The Blackthorne family had stepped back into her life after the attack. They had money, and the way they operated was like a well-oiled machine. Overnight, a cadre of attorneys appeared, sucking her back into the world of wealth and privilege her mother had fought so hard to escape. A stint in rehab had followed her hospitalization. Since admitting her own addiction, her life hadn’t been pleasant or easy. Withdrawal meant rules. Rules meant structure. Structure meant recovery. Recovery meant continuation. Not an easy battle when she was utterly bankrupted by scandal and a pending divorce. Surviving hadn’t ended the conflict over her weakened spirit. It would take time to regain a healthy balance. But she wasn’t scot-free. Her family’s generosity had come with a price. Julienne had to pay them back by coming home. She supposed she owed them. Not only had they covered all her medical expenses, her grandmother had also paid a hefty sum to purchase the sex tapes James was desperate to release. Currently behind bars for the attack, he needed cash for his own defense. Her skin, so warm only moments ago, grew chilled. Those DVDs we made would’ve gotten a tidy sum from any porno producer. It embarrassed her she was a willing participant in their creation. But jobs in front of the camera were drying up as their drug use spiraled out of control. No one wanted to hire a crackhead for an expensive shoot. And no reputable actor wanted one as an agent. There was easy money to be made, peddling sex on the Internet. Sadness washed over her like the consuming waves of an angry ocean. Oftentimes, it felt as if she didn’t belong in this world. Through her twenty-four years, she’d always felt different, isolated and alone. Was it because something had always been missing in her life? A sane mother? A stable home? She’d had neither. Her mother had been mentally ill. What had frightened Cassandra Blckthorne away from her family might have been nothing more than her own schizophrenic mania in action. Julienne reached for the cross hanging at her throat. She wasn’t particularly religious, but the crucifix offered a bit of solace. She wished things could be different, but she couldn’t dwell on that now. In Virginia was a new life, a fresh start. Whether she’d be able to reclaim her place in the Blackthorne clan was yet to be determined. Her mother was years into her grave. Surely, the bitter past had died with her. “I belong here,” she murmured to no one. Lost in a sea of travelers, she noticed a small group of people coming together, pointing her way. She tensed when an elderly woman broke away and approached her. The smile on her face was warm and welcoming. Grandmother? “Hello, dear. My name is Edith Danridge, and you look lost.” She was beautifully dressed; her soft Southern accent one of education and refinement. “I am.” Hiding the disappointment in her eyes, Julienne returned a grateful smile. The woman was trying to be kind. The least she could do as a stranger was to greet the locals. She was grateful no one had recognized her. She was just another anonymous nobody in the crowd. “Then perhaps you need the comfort of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Julienne glanced down at the literature. Hope sank like a stone in water. The Path to Salvation, it read. Disappointed, she shook her head in a polite decline of the material. “Thanks, nice of you to offer.” “Is someone coming to meet you?” Edith asked, trying to engage her in conversation. “You seem so alone.” “My grandmother, I think. Perhaps you know her. Anlese Blackthorne.” Edith Danridge drew back a bit upon hearing her answer, her lips forming an O of silent surprise. A shadow of uncertainty flashed across her features. “Yes, I know your family.” Her body language became defensive, as if she was afraid of being attacked. Her voice was strained. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her.” Julienne was puzzled by the abrupt change in attitude. It was as if a chill wind had blown without warning through the terminal. “My mother’s name was Cassandra. Did you know her?” “I remember Cassandra. She didn’t have a chance”—Edith Danridge unexpectedly glanced over her shoulder toward her group, who were also handing out church literature, as if afraid they would hear her—“belonging to them. You don’t, not yet.” She raised a hand and curled her fingers around the gold cross hanging from Julienne’s neck. “Keep faith, and don’t let them destroy you the way they did her.” Julienne drew back, sucking in a startled breath. The nearness of this strange woman made her extremely uncomfortable. The thin chain around her neck snapped, the ends dangling from the stranger’s hand. “I—I don’t understand.” Edith Danridge ignored her. As if in a daze, she stared at the broken necklace. “Too late.” The chain slid from her fingers, falling to the floor at her feet. “You belong to the devil.” Giving Julienne a frightened glance, she turned and scurried away, murmuring, “God help us all.” Julienne stood motionless until jostled into action by passersby. She’s nuts, she told herself. She tried not to let the woman’s words affect her. Nevertheless, such strange pronouncements were unnerving. A fanatic. She knelt to retrieve her jewelry. Spends too much time in that church of hers. “There’s Miss Julienne.” A man’s voice wafted through the airport and caught her ear. Julienne turned, looking for the person who’d spoken her name. Her gaze located a young black man standing on the periphery of the departing passengers, at an angle where he could survey the entire room in a single glance. He wore crisp new jeans and a matching shirt, and held a well-worn felt hat in his hands. She watched him lean slightly to his left and speak to a figure concealed behind an outspread newspaper. The paper came down immediately. Folding it with four crisp movements of precise economy, the second man dropped it into the nearby wastebasket. Julienne felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise. Surely it wasn’t . . . No. Not Morgan Saint-Evanston. God, why him? As the two men approached, Julienne felt as if someone had led her to the top of a cliff and then, without warning, pushed her off. Somehow, she’d managed to catch the edge, but she was still left to dangle helplessly high above the ground. She couldn’t help but notice people were falling back to make room for him. A current of apprehension rippled through the masses as he advanced, as if some silent command demanded none should cross his path. Even his companion followed a courteous distance behind. He stopped within a few feet of her. “Morgan?” she asked, hoping she was mistaken about his identity. He nodded in acknowledgment. “Ce’as mile fa’ilte, leanabh.” Julienne blinked, uncomprehending, puzzled. The odd words jarred, seeming to carry the whisper of familiarity, much like the strains of a long-forgotten tune. One could hum a few notes but never entirely capture the haunting melody. “What did you say?” “A hundred thousand welcomes,” he repeated, this time in English. Her face flushed with self-consciousness. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t understand.” Her brow wrinkled in question. “You expected me to?” “When you were small, I used to speak Gaelic, the Irish language, to you.” His earnest gaze raked over her, measuring every inch. “But you are not so little now.” She looked back, evaluating him as closely as he assessed her. His complexion was cream-colored, his eyes almost black. His black, collar-length hair was layered and unruly, threaded with silver at his temples and bangs. At a glance, he appeared to be about thirty. But a closer look revealed crow’s-feet etched at the outer corners of his eyes. Around his mouth were a few deeper character lines and small scars. He was admirably muscled, his posture regal, as if he was always in command despite what fate might otherwise dictate. He cut an impressive figure, elegantly dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, coat tailored, trousers sharply creased, silk vest worn over a crisp white shirt open at the neck, no tie. A gold watch chain bridged the pockets of his vest. With the heel of a boot under him he almost made it to six feet. All in all, his finery was immaculately tailored and smartly worn. She’d expected him to look a lot older, and meaner. But, no. He was absolutely striking. In every way. Frustrated, and a little confused, she replied, “N—no, sorry. I don’t remember much about my childhood.” She immediately noticed that he didn’t offer his hand or any other physical contact. Despite his salutation, his behavior was guarded, his penetrating stare intense and aggressive, displaying no emotion. “Why not?” he asked. “Were we so forgettable?” His words were tinged with an Irish brogue, precisely spoken as if to avoid mangling the English language. His voice had a pleasing timbre, even in cadence and tone, in intimacy and confidence. She surmised he could manipulate it with ease to make anyone believe he was sincere, even when he was not. Julienne swallowed the lump rising in the back of her throat. “It’s been a long time since I was a toddler.” Now that she’d come face-to-face with him, Julienne wasn’t sure what to make of the man. Morgan was the reason her mother had left town. Cassandra was terrified of him, and she’d run away from him until the effort had killed her. She’d always suspected Saint-Evanston might be her father. Cassandra never would tell her the truth. She looked at him again, searching for a connection—an acknowledgment of kinship—in his gaze. There was none. She wasn’t even sure how he fit into the family bloodline. All she knew for sure was he controlled the Blackthorne legacy, and the money that went with it. And he ruled with an iron fist.
Descent of Demons
Keepers of Eternity Book 2
“Devyn Quinn writes compelling characters, a chilling and gripping story, and a setting that is easily seen within your mind’s eye.” --Rogues and Romance Reviews
Left for dead in a hellish corner of the dark realm, Julienne Blackthorne refused to surrender, and through her own force of will and her love for one man she managed to survive and escape. But survival brings its own new hell when she makes a horrific discovery. A demonic sorcerer has begun a search for the forbidden Scrolls of Cachaen, ancient texts that will restore his waning magic and give him the power to take his final revenge on the man Julienne loves, Morgan Saint-Evanston.
In a desperate quest to save Morgan and stop the diabolical sorcerer from gaining control of the scrolls, Julienne will be forced to confront the most sinister powers of this dark world. And in a race against time that will determine the fate of all mankind, Julienne and Morgan will find themselves in a perilous battle against evil that will either condemn them to eternal misery . . . or grant them everlasting love.
**Only .99 Cents!**
Genesis Awry
Keepers of Eternity Book 3
Since Julienne Blackthorne succumbed to the dark passion of the erotic and erratic Morgan Saint-Evanston, she’s been forced to draw on her deepest strengths to survive the demonic realm of the otherworld and the treacherous existence of an immortal. But when Morgan obtains the Scrolls of Cachaen—said to be the keys controlling the forces of nature itself—it unleashes a deeply sinister beast from the astral realm who wields an unholy power capable of defying their efforts to destroy him.
Morgan knows that safeguarding the scrolls is his only hope for protecting Julienne and all of mankind, but the powerful and mystical scrolls are taking a debilitating toll on him, even as very mortal enemies scheme to control him for their own purposes. As he is stripped of the strength he needs to wage an epic war against the beast hell-bent on their destruction, he realizes he will have to turn to a dark magick for their salvation—one that may consume his soul.
And as Morgan and Julienne struggle to defend themselves and the hard-fought love that fires them both, they will come face-to-face with a cruel fate that would turn their one hope for survival into the very thing that could lead to their ultimate destruction.
**Only .99 Cents!**
Rise of the Beast
Keepers of Eternity Book 4
Morgan Saint-Evanston has prevailed over every demented beast sprung from the otherworld, but now he finds himself tormented by an earthside foe who could destroy everything he’s built in the mortal realm. Forced to turn to a magickal ally to preserve the sanctity of Blackthorne Manor and safeguard its secrets, he discovers that the bewitching creature’s services come at a chilling price: the very part of his soul that harbors his humanity.
Julienne Blackthorne is bonded to Morgan by blood, but the emotional and erotic ties that bind them are fraying as his lost humanity sends him spiraling downward to the furthest extremes of darkness and depravity. As Julienne struggles to save the man she loves from utter and eternal ruin, she must delve into her own dark powers at the risk of forsaking her sanity.
As Morgan and Julienne steel themselves to do battle with his greatest inner demons and those who would deny him his legacy, they must confront the very real threat that his fragmented psyche will lead him to the edge of self-destruction—and the destruction of all they hold dear, both in this world and in their hearts.
**Only .99 Cents!**
Devyn Quinn lives in the scenic Southwest, though she has called several other states home. She is a huge fan of dark gothic music & shoot-'em-up action movies.
Having published through traditional channels, Devyn got fed up with the antiquated New York system & decided to head into indy publishing with Beyond the Page. Beginning in 2017, she will be releasing new work. She is also planning to reissue her former NY titles with fresh material & smoking hot cover art. More exciting is the forthcoming "Ocean Deep" mermaid series, which will tell more tales of the Mer. The Kith & Kynn, Eternity, and Wildcat series' will also be continued with new books.
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
Title: Roman
Series: The Clutch Series: Book One
Authors: Heidi McLaughlin and Amy Briggs
Genre: Vampire Romance
For Roman, humans are the bane of his existence always having to follow their rules. In all his years, he’s never needed one, until now.
For Fiona, vampires are off limits, evil members of society, until the one known as Roman crosses her path and shows her he’s no different than her.
Heidi is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author.
Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot.
When she's isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games.
Heidi's first novel, Forever My Girl, will be in theaters on October 27, 2017, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Rothe.
Amy Briggs is a Texas based writer. Formerly a firefighter and EMT in New Jersey living next to a military base, Amy was initially drawn to creating stories around emergency services and the military, and draws on her experiences to show the depth and emotional side of the lifestyle. Her love of fairy tales carries through each of her novels and she hopes to inspire readers to fall in love with love.
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