Book Tour and #Giveaway: Fever by Lola Taylor


christmas-lights
 
Fever
Blood Moon Rising
Book One
Lola Taylor
Genre: Werewolf PNR
Publisher: Indigo Dreamer Press
Date of Publication: February, 2014 (Fourth Edition, October, 2016)
ASIN: B00ING5PN0
Number of pages: 114
Word Count: 33k
  
blurbWhen the Blood Moon rises, the wolves come out to play… and find their mates.
Danica has about given up on love. In a last-ditch attempt at finding “the one,” she agrees to a blind date through an online dating service. But instead of finding roses and romance, she finds someone intent on killing her. That is, until the mysterious, brooding Gage shows up to save her….
Gage is running out of time to find a mate. If the Blood Moon sets before he can find her, he’ll lose the rank of packmaster—and the peace within the pack he’s worked so hard to obtain. When he saves a luscious blonde in the parking lot of a bar, he has no idea she is his mate—until he Marks her with his touch.
Determined to keep her safe at any cost, Gage whisks Danica away into a hidden world full of lust, unlikely love, and treachery. Someone’s put a hit on his mate, and he’s hell-bent on finding out who, all while the Blood Moon looms closer, threatening to destroy his chances at true love forever. That is, if something—or someone—doesn’t kill the woman he’s falling for first.
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“Mates and Mistletoe”
A Blood Moon Rising story
By
Lola Taylor
When Blake
reluctantly agrees to go to a pack Christmas party, the last thing on his mind
is finding his mate. But fate—and possibly Santa—has other plans…
***
Blake observed the party with a look of supreme distaste. Crescent Manor had been
decked out in blue and white twinkle lights, silver garland, and sparkly
tinsel. Just looking at it made his eyes hurt. Not to mention the smell. Oh,
God, if he ever had to smell pine, cinnamon, or pumpkin spice
whatever-the-hell-it-was-called again, it would be too soon. Being a werewolf
royally sucked sometimes, mainly the enhanced sense of smell. And this
place—his damn home for the past fifteen years—was doing nothing but reminding
him why he hated the holidays.
Everybody
here seemed to have found a date or had brought their mates. All but him.
It wasn’t his
fault he couldn’t find a mate. Hell, he’d tried dating. And rutting. That part
he especially enjoyed. But the Mating Mark, the mystical symbol that designated
his soul mate, had yet to appear on anyone. Which was supremely frustrating.
Damn, did the
universe hate him that much? He was thirty-five, for shit’s sake. And he was
beginning to wonder if, maybe, he was destined to be alone for the rest of his
life.
His best friend
and fellow Moonstruck Pack member, Ryan, walked up to him, interrupting his
scowling. Ryan had gotten a little more into the Christmas spirit, wearing a
red button down and black slacks. Blake, on the other hand, had gone with a
Metallica T-shirt that should have been thrown away ten years ago, a pair of
rugged jeans, and his shit-kickers. Like hell he was dressing up for a party he
didn’t want to attend in the first place. These people had been lucky he’d
shown up to this damn circus. If it were up to him, he would’ve stayed up in
his room, reading. Yeah, yeah, despite appearances and general “don’t give a
shit” demeanor, he loved a good Brandon Sanderson novel.
Ryan surveyed
him with a knowing twinkle in his eye and nudged him. “Someone piss in your
champagne?”
“This ain’t
champagne. I hate that bubbly shit. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a
Guinness. Poured it in this fancy glass so Alara doesn’t yell at me.” Alara,
the queen of the Moonstruck Pack and one of the newest additions to their
ever-expanding family, was the only reason he’d deigned to show up to this shit
show. One, because she was a hell of a leader and business woman. In the past
few months since she’d been here, she’d increased profits from the pack’s real
estate business by fifty percent. Blake, loving the shit out of math and money,
could appreciate that. Especially since he was the pack’s accountant.
Two, he
downright respected Alara. Not only was she smart, level-headed, and beautiful,
she was into epic fantasy. After her mate, Nik, convinced her to binge-watch
the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy
and all six seasons of Game of Thrones,
she was hooked to the genre. Knowing he was a big fan himself, she’d asked to
borrow his wide collection of fantasy books. He’d happily obliged, and the two
of them had become fast friends.
Friends or not,
however, this was downright torture. But it wouldn’t be right, for political or
friendships’ sakes, for him not to attend. Alara was one of the few people he
considered a true friend. Plus, he was the pack’s accountant, and he loved his
job. He wasn’t about to spit in their faces by not spending Christmas Eve in
hell, er, at a party.
Ryan was quiet a
moment. “You’ve been holding that wall up all night. Gonna come talk to some of
us?”
“Nah. People
seem too busy sharing pup pictures and dancing with their mates.”
Ryan tried not
to look ashamed. He’d found his own mate, Stephanie, about a month back. Blake
had been both thrilled for his bud and disgruntled their bachelor evenings were
coming to an end.
Blake rolled his
eyes, giving Ryan a dry smile. “You don’t have to hide your happiness—or your
mate—from me, man. I’m glad you found Steph.”
Ryan’s shoulders
seemed to relax, and he looked out at the dancing crowd. They were in the
parlor. The furniture had been pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A
gorgeous brunette danced with a group of friends. Her face lit up when she saw
Ryan, and she smiled and waved.
A stupid-happy
grin, one that Blake couldn’t help feeling jealous of, lit up Ryan’s face as he
waved back.
He and Blake
made small talk after that, with Blake checking the clock every couple of
minutes. God, had time stopped? Shit, he loved his best friend, but he couldn’t
take much more of this. Every second here reminded him of how alone he felt,
and exacerbated his fear that he would never find someone to share his life
with.
After a
conversation about hockey, another of Blake’s true loves, Blake said, “Hey,
man, I’m gonna grab another beer and get some air. Care to join?”
A slow song
started, and people went for their dates or mates. Stephanie started to
approach. “Nah, man. I owe Steph a dance. Promised her before we came down.
I’ll catch up with you later for that beer.”
“Holding you to
that.” He said “hello” to Stephanie before slipping from the room.
After snagging
another beer from the kitchen, he let himself outside, onto the back patio.
Nobody was out there. One, because it was freaking freezing, even for a
werewolf. Their body temperatures ran hotter than that of a normal human, but
cold was cold. And the air was practically subzero.
His breath
fogged as he looked up at the stars, at the open sky, full moon, and silvery
tips of trees in the forest surrounding the property. This place was beautiful.
Always had been, even when it had sometimes felt like a prison during
Malachite’s reign.
Blake shivered,
banishing thoughts about that psychopath to the recesses of his mind. After filing
those bloody, dark memories away in the archive of “Shit He’d Rather Not Think
About,” he took another swig of his beer about the same time a husky voice
said, “Taking a break from the glitter festival, too?”
Blake nearly
choked on his beer as he struggled to swallow and inhale at the same time.
Whirling, he could barely make out the curvy figure standing in the shadows.
Then she stepped into a pool of moonlight, and he forgot how to breathe.
Holy hell.
She was
gorgeous, like something from a dream. With curves that would make Marilyn
Monroe jealous and long, satiny blond hair that tumbled over her shoulders in
waves, she looked like a siren come to steal him away into the night. Her dress
was black, shimmery, and skin-tight, clinging to her like a second skin. Her
four-inch crimson pumps made her nearly as tall as his six foot five.
A wave of desire
made his skin hot, and an assortment of lustful thoughts filled his mind.
Down boy.
Clearing his
throat, he shifted his weight and angled his body in such a way he hoped it
would mask any obvious signs of his growing desire.
Could it be a
mating fever, the time when all a werewolf could think about was sex? Possibly.
Then again, sex was usually at the back of his thoughts, especially since he
hadn’t had any in the past two months. Work had simply kept him too busy.
But now, in the
presence of this dream girl, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about how soft
her skin would feel or what her full, cherry-red lips would taste like.
As if sensing
what he was thinking, she slowly smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.
**Download the full story for free and find out how to get one of Lola’s full-length,
standalone werewolf romances for free! (Limited time offer.)
Click here to download “Mates and Mistletoe” for free!
 


A note from Lola: Hello! I use a service called BookFunnel to deliver my books.
If you have trouble getting this book, just tap the Help Me link at the top of
the book download page and their friendly support team will help you get your
book!

 
bio
“Lola Taylor” is a pen name created for the romances I can’t show my grandma without blushing. My favorite genre to write is romantic suspense, usually involving hot werewolves, warlocks, or any other type of paranormal creature. Keep the action hot and the romance hotter—that’s my motto! I’m a horror film junkie, I still love Halloween as an adult (seriously, I think I get more excited for it than some kids do), and what precious spare time I have is spent with my family, reading (everything from sci fi to middle grade), playing the flute, painting pretty pictures, or screwing around on Pinterest or Etsy. Hailing from the South, I currently live in the Midwest with five fur babies and my hubby.
I’m pretty easy-going. If you want to get to know me or just say “hi,” you can find me on Facebook, Google + , Pinterest,and Goodreads.

Lola’s Giveaway 

All-New Kindle E-reader – White,
6″ Glare-Free Touchscreen Display, Wi-Fi – Includes Special Offers & a
digital copy of all Lola’s books
Winner will be randomly selected
and announced on Lola’s website and social media on Christmas Eve (December
24th). Ebook prizes only, no paperbacks. Official Terms of Service and Contest
Rules will be listed on the giveaway page, including who may enter (Worldwide
Limited—Some Shipping Restrictions Apply).
Giveaway Open to Contestants in:
United States, Canada, Australia, United Kingdom, Turkey, Germany, Belgium, and
Ireland
Enter HERE
 
 

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Gonzo by @CandaceBlevins – Book Tour and #Giveaway

Gonzo Banner 851 x 315

Image1Gonzo

RTMC

Book Seven

Candace Blevins

Genre: MC, Bikers, Werewolves,

PNR, Bad Boys

Publisher: Excessica

Date of Publication: May 13, 2016

Word Count: 105,300

Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone

blurbGonzo has not only had to come to terms with the loss of his entire family, but he also barely survived being shot in the chest multiple times while still a human, and was then later turned into a werewolf during a vicious attack while hiking as he tried to put his life back together.

Constance has had her own losses to deal with, and while nowhere near as bad as Gonzo’s, they’ve left a mark on her as well. She’s determined to live her life without a partner though, because her two sexual experiences in college convinced her she’s asexual.

Gonzo’s a biker people cross the road to avoid, while Constance has multiple doctorate degrees and works as a research scientist for a leading pharmaceutical firm. Gonzo doesn’t trust women, Constance has no use for men — and yet they’re going to find themselves working toward the same goals.

Can they form a team to do what needs to be done?

Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book Seven, can be read as a stand-alone

excerpt

Chapter One

Excerpt

Gonzo

Most everyone in the RTMC works in one of our businesses. I can bartend in a pinch, but most nights I work as a bouncer. Duke says I’m not good with people.

He’s right. People are fucked up. Some are more fucked than others, but there’s no way to know who might be just a cunt hair away from losing their shit.

I trust my brothers in the MC and a few of their ol’ladies, but that’s it. I have no intention of having a conversation with anyone else. I mean, I have to talk to people to order food or buy shit at the store, but that isn’t a conversation. I don’t do small talk. It’s pointless.

Funny, though — I get just as many tips as Dawg when I bartend. Everyone likes Dawg. He can look a woman in the eyes for ten seconds and make her fall in love with him. Brain says they tip me as much as Dawg because I scare the fuck out of them and they don’t want to piss me off.

Apparently, I look at people and give them nightmares. Maybe they know I’d just as soon bite their head off as talk to them?

On this particular Thursday night I was bouncing, and something was up with a woman sitting at the bar.

She’d had one margarita when she first arrived, but now she was nursing a soda, and she kept looking at me, but she’d look away when I turned towards her. She wasn’t doing anything bounce-able but she had my nerves on edge. My wolf’s, too.

A group of women were having a party at one of the tables, and two of them staggered off to the bathroom. On their way back two men stood in their way — it was apparent the women wanted to go back to their table and the men weren’t letting them. I tuned into the conversation and heard the men telling the women they wanted to take them back to their place to party. The women were shit-faced, but still obviously weren’t interested and only wanted to get back to their friends. I walked to the men, wrapped a hand around the back of their necks, and leaned in to say, “They told you they aren’t interested. I see you approach them again and you’re out of here.”

I moved the men out of the way, nodded to the women to go around, and looked back to the men as I squeezed hard enough to bring tears to their eyes. “Not cool. Don’t try to pull that shit again in our bar.”

As I returned to the wall, the woman at the bar downed the rest of her soda and went to the restroom. I put her out of my mind as I stepped towards two gentlemen who seemed to be arguing over a piece of ass — and not even an attractive piece of ass. One had apparently been dating her and only broke up earlier in the week, the other had her out on a date tonight and the wounded party felt like the new guy had broken the bro-code by taking her out so soon. All I had to do was stand five feet away, cross my arms and look at them, and they sat down and lowered their voices.

Looking scary can come in handy, sometimes.

I moved back to my favorite perch, leaned against the wall so I could see the bar and dance floor, and my stomach dropped as the woman I’d been watching earlier came out of the bathroom and made a beeline for me.

Our bar in Atlanta had been a biker bar, with pretty much only friends of the one percent feeling comfortable stepping in the door. However, somehow we’d attracted the ninety-nine percent here in Chattanooga. It was incredibly profitable, but a pain in the ass to deal with outsiders, sometimes.

It was hard to say this woman didn’t belong here, because so many other people were dressed just as prissy as this bitch, but I had a feeling she hadn’t stepped into any bar in years, and I wondered why she was here, alone. She might’ve been attractive if she’d been dressed different, or had her hair down — but all I could see was the prissy-assed bitch I’d first noticed paying way too much attention to me.

She stepped to me, held out her hand as if to shake mine, and said, “I’m Constance.”

I just looked at her, my arms crossed. Eventually, she dropped her hand and said, “Ummm, you’re working, right? Do you not talk when you’re working?”

I gave her my most intimidating look, but she planted her feet, squared her shoulders, and asked, “What time do you get off work? Do you think, if I stuck around, we could talk when you aren’t working?”

What the ever-loving fuck? “Are you one of those chicks who just drew up a bucket list, and you need to check off fuck a biker?”

“What? No!” she looked down a few seconds, and then met my gaze again. “I’ve never been good at this, but I appear to be doing even worse than usual. I’ve watched you, and I’m intrigued, and I’d like to get to know you.”

“You a reporter?”

She shook her head.

“A cop?”

“I’m a research scientist.”

I moved one hand to my crotch and casually rubbed. “Behavioral research? You wantin’ to know what makes bikers tick?” Okay, so now I was just fucking with her, but at this point I needed to find out who she was and why she was interested in me.

“No. Pharmaceuticals. I help invent new drugs.”

I looked up and around, zeroed in on a few conversations, and looked back to the woman. What had she said her name was? Shit. Total blank. I hadn’t given a fuck when she’d told me. Still didn’t care, but I seemed to remember it was a prissy-assed name that’d pissed me off just by watching her mouth say it.

Despite my silence and hostility, she tried again. “I’d like to take you to Waffle House, or another restaurant if you’d rather, when you get off. My treat.”

Like I couldn’t afford fucking Waffle House. If I chose to eat with the bitch, I wouldn’t let her feed me. I crossed my arms again. “And if I wanna get off while I pound my cock in your ass?”

She took a step back as her face flamed hot, and I smelled true fear from her. She’d been wary and nervous before but I’d finally managed to scare the fuck out of her.

I shook my head, disgusted. “Not gonna do anything you don’t want. Plenty of willing ass I can have — don’t have to rape someone to get it.”

“Oh, you’re mad at me for being scared when YOU are the one who said it!? Shit, this was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

She turned to leave and I grabbed her arm as I touched my earpiece. “I’m gonna take a twenty minute break.”

“She don’t seem like your type,” Dozer said with a chuckle, but I didn’t respond.

I pulled the woman into the office and closed the door. She shook her head, “No, I don’t want to be alone with you. I wanted to talk to you in a public place.”

“You want to talk? This is your only option.”

She pulled a phone out of her purse, quickly engaged it, and turned it towards me as she asked, “Do you remember her?”

I recognized the face but couldn’t remember a name. “Yeah. Years since I saw her, though. Bud kicked her out when I caught her snorting a line in the bathroom. She isn’t welcome back on RTMC property.”

The woman stared at me, her face stricken. “Someone else kicked her out? Not you?”

“I told her she had to leave because we don’t allow that shit in our compound, but Bud’s the Prez in Atlanta so he made it permanent.” I paused a few seconds as I smelled true grief coming from her. I’d been about to ask if she was a private detective who’d lied about being a research scientist, but this was personal.

“Why, what happened to her, and how do you know her?” And even more, why had she come to me, specifically? The bitch she was asking about hadn’t been a club whore — she’d only fucked me, as far as I knew. It wasn’t a relationship, but when she was around I’d usually fuck her instead of someone else. The fact I couldn’t remember her name, and had never given her a nickname, should speak volumes to how little she’d meant to me. The bitch had known her place, though. She fucked me and then left. She didn’t want conversation, didn’t ask for meals. Just spread her legs and went on her way. She’d been a damned good lay for a human, too.

“She was my sister. She’s dead.”

“And why did you come to me?” My wife died of cancer and my kids were murdered. Everyone has dead loved ones — if this cunt wanted sympathy she’d come to the wrong place.

“Can we sit down?”

Fuck, why not.”

gonzo teaser wolf wants to hunt2gonzo teaser naked under his scrutiny3Gonzo teaser dirty bubble

bio

Candace Blevins lives with her husband of 18 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.

Candace writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary BDSM Romance, and is currently writing a kick-ass Motorcycle Club series.

Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.

Candace’s two paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals and The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, are both sister series to the Only Human series, and give some secondary characters their happily ever after.

Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve.

You can visit Candace on the web at candaceblevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at facebook.com/candacesblevins and Goodreads at goodreads.com/CandaceBlevins. You can also join facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters to get sneak peeks into what she’s writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.

Stay up to date on Candace’s newest releases, and get exclusive excerpts by joining her mailing list!

http://www.candaceblevins.com/

https://www.facebook.com/candacesblevins

https://www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters/

https://twitter.com/CandaceBlevins

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4489132.Candace_Blevins

 

Other Book By Candace Blevins

Only Human series (Urban Fantasy)

Only Human

Unhuman Acts (early 2016)

Only Human book three, title TBA (2016)

Chattanooga Supernaturals (Paranormal Romance)

The Dragon King

Riding the Storm

Acceptable Risk

 

Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club (link)

Duke

Brain

Bash Volume I

Bash Volume II

Bash Volume III

Horse

Gonzo (May 13, 2016)

Nix (Novella, Summer 2016)

Ghost

Bud

Dawg

 

Short erotica stories from the world of The Chattanooga Supernaturals

Pride

Indentured Freedom: Owned by the Vampire

giveaway4

Tour giveaway

5 copies of Brain (RTMC #2)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Cupid by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985 @evernightpub) #holiday #christmas #erotica #romance #shifter #paranormal #pnr

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Out Now! Cupid by Lucy Felthouse

 

Cupid-EvernightPublishing-Jayaheer2015-smallpreviewblurbAs a postman by day, and one of Santa’s reindeer on a single very special night, Cassius Cupid eats, sleeps, and breathes deliveries. He doesn’t mind, but sometimes wishes that someone would send him something more exciting than bills and junk mail.

One cold January morning, Cassius gets his wish. A young woman arrives with a parcel. Turns out it’s for his housemate – but Cassius doesn’t care. All he’s interested in is Carina – the beautiful female courier.

Has Cupid finally met his match?

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/cupid/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27255784-cupid

 

excerptCassius Cupid woke with a start, and then sat bolt upright in his bed. Shit, I’m going to be late! was his first thought.

Milliseconds later his brain switched on, and he remembered. He was on holiday. Flopping back onto the warm mattress and pillows with a contented sigh, he smiled. No work for fourteen whole days—it was going to be utter bliss. He stretched, relishing the feeling it created in his sleep-softened muscles. Ahhh…this is the life.

He knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep—hell, it was eight o’clock, which was practically the middle of the day for someone in his profession—so Cassius fell to thinking about how he was going to spend his day, not to mention the several others in front of him. God knew he deserved to relax and have some fun. He’d just emerged from the busiest part of his year, and he was more than ready to do some chilling out.

He enjoyed his job as a postman—he really did—but the Christmas period was a total killer. He idly wondered how many cards and presents he’d delivered over the past few weeks. It didn’t bear thinking about. Once you factored in the festive period itself, the weird few days between Christmas and New Year, and then the flurry of mail that got sent when everyone went back to work properly at the beginning of January, he’d racked up some serious deliveries. And that was before you even thought about his other job—which was for just one day a year, but was arguably more important than the other 364 put together.

Cassius—or Cupid, as he was known to his boss and colleagues in his second, but most important job—was not only a regular postman for the Royal Mail, but also a reindeer. For a single day of the year, Cassius had the supernatural power to transform into one of Santa’s faithful steeds and help pull that famous magical sleigh, delivering presents to excited children the world over.

Therefore, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Cassius really did eat, sleep and breathe deliveries, but not for the next fourteen days. All he planned to do was watch some TV, read some books, maybe go out hiking, meet some friends… basically anything that wasn’t delivering something to someone. Hey, he might even receive something through the post himself—preferably not the usual crap; bills and junk mail. He didn’t hold out much hope.

He lounged in bed for another ten minutes before realising he was lying there just for the sake of it. Being on holiday didn’t have to equal staying in bed all day—and certainly not for someone as active as him. He reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his glasses and put them on. Throwing off his thick duvet, he walked to his bedroom window and peeked out through the curtains, immediately glad of the effective central heating he and his housemate had forked out to have installed the previous year.

The outside world was covered in a thick layer of snow, and Cassius was mightily glad that he wasn’t out delivering letters and parcels. The stuff was treacherous enough without having to carry a heavy bag up and down driveways, paths, and pavements — most of which either hadn’t been cleared, or had been cleared badly, leaving incredibly slippery patches of ground for an unsuspecting postie to come across. God knows he’d gone down enough times, but, much to his relief, nobody had ever seen him do it. He’d always been relatively unharmed—excerpt for his pride, of course—and had been able to scramble back to his feet and carry on.

The eerie silence outside was broken by the rumble of an engine, and Cassius turned his head to look up the street—he lived in a cul-de-sac, so he knew that’s where the vehicle would come from—and watched as a delivery van made its way slowly and carefully down the road. He hoped the driver was sensible enough to try and steer over the thickest parts of the snow—the more people went over and over the same patches, packing it down, the more the road surface resembled an ice rink. And since the cul-de-sac was on a slight hill, it was easy enough to get stuck. He’d seen it so many times—even going outside one time last winter to suggest the driver go down to the bottom of the road, turn around and try reversing up the hill—an almost foolproof plan for vans with rear-wheel drive. He’d gotten a big thumbs-up for that suggestion as the driver finally got to the junction where the road became flat, and went on his merry way.

As the van drew closer to his house, he saw that the driver was a woman. That would explain her cautious driving—he’d never admit it to one of his drinking buddies, but women were far superior when it came to driving in adverse weather conditions. He even thought he’d seen some survey containing statistics that proved it.

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bio

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 140 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

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Something Wicked This Way Comes by Jenika Snow #Giveaway

Something Wicked This Way Comes Banner 851 x 315

SomethingWickedThisWayComes_453X680-72dpiSomething Wicked This Way Comes
Jenika Snow

A Wicked Tale
ARe Books

Genre: M/F, Werewolves, Vampires, PNR

blurbBeing wicked never felt so good.

Born from hate and violence, Lathan knows all too well what darkness feels like. He’s centuries old, and an abomination to the supernatural world. With a vampire father who forcibly took Lathan’s werewolf mother as his own, Lathan’s hybrid genetics make him feared by all.

Abbi has no one, nothing of importance in her life, but that doesn’t stop her from living. When Lathan feeds on her and tries to use compulsion to make her forget, she realizes he isn’t just a vampire, but something altogether different. He’s also her mate.

Can Abbi accept Lathan for who and what he is? Can she allow herself to be mated to a man who is half vampire and half werewolf, one feared amongst human and immortal alike? She knows he won’t stop until he has her.

Available at ARe

excerptLathan was born of this world in blood, hatred…violence. He took his first breath with his mother’s arms around him, her tears of sadness, hurt, disgust, filling him. It was the only world, the only emotions he’d ever known. And it was that memory, even as he lay there vulnerable—unable to speak, barely able to breathe—that he watched his mother pass. It was a curse being able to remember every single memory of his life, a “gift” because of his hybrid breed, his dual species genetics.

He stood in the shadows, his hunger insatiable. He watched the humans, knew their blood—the sustenance that gave him life, gave him strength and power—was also the same viscous fluid that disgusted him.

He was half vampire, half werewolf, a demon among his kind, an abomination because of the two bloodlines running through his veins and of how he came into this world. His werewolf mother was kidnapped and raped by his vampire father, a male that claimed she was his mate. But Lathan’s father hadn’t cared about anyone but himself. He’d defiled the one woman that was claimed to be his mate, took her from Lathan because he was a selfish bastard.

It was because of his father he didn’t have a memory that wasn’t tainted with violence and degradation. It was because of his father, Karloff, that Lathan couldn’t show his face in the paranormal community without fear and disgust following him, because everyone knew who he was. The stench of his father’s blood ran through his veins, tainting him, marking him as evil. Karloff’s reputation was by far the most sinister of their kind, was tainted with the horror of the life he himself led, and of the lives he took.

Maybe Lathan should have had more empathy for the man that sired him, the man that forced his seed upon Lathan’s unwilling mother. But the truth was after three hundred years of living in this world alone, Lathan had no empathy for anyone or anything. He had no emotions, no expectations, or even hope that he’d find a mate, if one even existed.

But he’d killed his father a century ago—ripped open his throat, bathed in his blood—sand knew that killing the man that had raped Lathan’s mother, took from her everything she knew and loved, was a small act of vengeance on his part. It wouldn’t solve anything, wouldn’t make anyone see him as anything more than a monster, but it made Lathan feel a little less dark inside.

He moved back into the shadows even further when a young, beautiful, and unsuspecting woman started walking toward him. She was human, with long reddish brown hair, and eyes the color of the greenest emerald. She was slender, couldn’t be more than in her twenties, and the animal in him—the wolf, the demon he was—rose up. He wanted to taste her, wanted her blood to coat his tongue and move along the back of his throat. He’d never been this thirsty before.

But it could be because he’d held off feeding for the last couple weeks, hating to taste the metallic flavor of the substance that gave him life. Lathan wanted her blood, wanted it covering his mouth and dripping down his chin.
His vampire side felt the call of the blood, felt the power move through him, strengthening his muscles, making his body coil tight, ready to snatch her body to his, tilt her neck to the side, and expose the creamy expanse of her throat.

And then she was right here, the wind picking up and blowing her hair around her shoulders, having her scent slam into him. His dick got hard, his claws emerged, and his fangs punched forward. He hadn’t been this excited, hadn’t been this aroused in his entire existence.
bio

Jenika Snow is a USA Today bestselling author, a mother, wife, and nurse. She lives in northeast with her husband and their two daughters.

Jenika started writing at a very young age. Her first story consisted of a young girl who traveled to an exotic island and found a magical doll. That story as long since disappeared, but others have taken its place.

She loves to hear from readers, and encourages them to contact her and give their feedback.

For more information on other books by Jenika, visit her website: http://www.jenikasnow.com

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Evermore by Rebecca Royce #Giveaway

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Evermore_453X680-72dpiEvermore
The Dragon Wars
Book Four
Rebecca Royce

A Wicked Tale
ARe Books

Genre: M/F, Werewolves, Shifters, PNR

blurbHow is love possible when all is lost?

Werewolf Homer Prinze wants nothing more than to complete his assignment and get out of the wasteland that is the city. The dragons have destroyed everything, but a cry catches his attention. Before he knows it, he has met his mate. She needs his help and he is going to give it to her.

Camille is no one’s idea of great mate. Pregnant and alone, she is scarred and not looking for a companion in the hard world in which she lives.

But when Homer needs her, she will risk everything to bring him home.

Available at ARe

excerptHomer Prinze prowled through the crowd, counting the seconds until he could leave the putrid stink of the city. One year since the end of the Dragon Wars— the battle that had raged between werewolves and dragons for over seventeen years and caused nothing short of total destruction in the end—and the reconvening survivors of the war were arguably worse off than they’d been during the attacks. At least when they’d all been fighting a common enemy the werewolf population had been all on the same side. Post-war, the werewolf community all seemed to be turning their former dragon hatred on each other. They needed Alphas again. Pack life. A return to the thing which had at one time made them great.

How the wolves could find their way again was beyond his limited viewpoint. Homer had been a great secret soldier during the war and he was, he hoped, an excellent dominant pack mate since. Solving the world’s problems had to fall to someone else.

He couldn’t get home fast enough. His Alpha, who had once been his commander during the war, Robbie Owens, honored him with the task of negotiating supplies. He was cognizant of the recognition it brought him within the pack. Only he hated coming to the city every time. Gods, the smell. He shook his head. As soon as he returned home, he was shifting and running the last two days off.

Robbie usually handled the trips to the city himself. Entrusting Homer to make the run showed enormous confidence in him as a pack member, and Homer was not going to screw anything up.

If only all these lost souls could find the small beacon of happiness he had with his newly formed pack. He shook his head. The Owenses had been good to him, given him a chance first as a soldier and now as a valued member of their group.

The small beacon of paradise in the midst of all this hell…

A cry caught his attention and he turned toward the sound. Why the one noise called out to him when so many didn’t he had no idea. But the small feminine agony in the midst of all the rest of it trapped his attention and wouldn’t let him move another step.

The black market vendors he did business with were going to deliver the seeds to his hidden truck in two hours time. He had to see to whoever needed help. Waiting in the truck for his supplies to show up was out of the question.

The hidden Alpha in him wouldn’t let him do anything else.

bioRebecca Royce is the mother of three and married to her best friend. Moving from the NYC area to Austin, Texas, she is trying to eat her way through Texas barbecue.

Anything can happen, believe that it will.

For more information on other books by Rebecca, visit her website: http://www.rebeccaroyce.com

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2 ebooks- any ARe Imprint- winner’s choice

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Shadows in Savannah by Lissa Matthews #Giveaway #MM #Vampire

Shadows in Savannah Banner 851 x 315
ShadowsInSavannah_453X680-72dpiShadows in Savannah
Lissa Matthews

A Wicked Tale
ARe Books

Genre: M/M, Vampires, PNR

blurbIs the prospect of love worth dying for?

Vampires exist, and travel through space and time. Immortal, beautiful creatures. Neither dead, nor living.

Dane has no memory of being human. He only remembers waking after being unwillingly turned. He is left with a parchment with one single line written upon it: his human birthday. For this one day a year, he can live and die as a human. He is ready. It is time. 126 years after becoming a vampire, he is ready to die.

When he meets Jorge, with his dark good looks and brilliant blue eyes, Dane reconsiders his choice. Can he take back the life that was stolen from him by dying? Or can he make a life with a soulmate he never imagined having?

Available at ARe

excerptThere was an unusual chill in the early evening air for Savannah in October. It wasn’t quite mid-month, yet. Dane could feel it, even with his…condition. He smiled, a wry twist to his lips. His condition. Right.
That’s what it was. Like something he could wake up from one day.

Only he never woke up from it. It was there, this nightmare he called living, this never ending existence. He was neither dead, nor alive. He survived on blood and very rare cooked meats. He had money, more than he knew what to do with, more than he could spend in three lifetimes. He could walk in the evenings and in the pre-dawn hours. He could even be out in midday, so long as he never stepped foot in direct sunlight. And with the advances in science, he could appear to have a light tan with a regular application of self-tanning lotion.

He wasn’t like the fabled and fictional vampires in books and movies. Well, not entirely. He could feel, taste, smell, though most things felt odd against his fingertips, tasted bitter or overly sweet on his tongue, smelled like…? He didn’t have a word to describe the smells. Neither acrid nor lovely. Things just…smelled.

A burst of raucous laughter reached his ears and he turned from where he stood against the edge of the walkway, mere feet above the water. His restaurant and pub was in fine form tonight. It was one of several businesses he owned under a parent corporation he’d formed some years ago. Everyone was owned by someone else, so it didn’t look odd to anyone that his corporation owned a bar, a hotel, and a bookstore. There were several other small companies he owned or invested in, but those first three were his money makers.

The bookstore had been a surprise. He loved to read, especially historical thrillers, Victorian erotica, and letters from soldiers who’d died on battlefields. He hadn’t expected the place to make any money, but then he hadn’t counted on the number of people who loved the same type books he did. He also had a section from local Savannah families who’d loaned parts of their personal libraries out to him for display. They were much like museum pieces. Priceless, fragile, exquisite.

The bookstore was where he spent the majority of his time, talking of books and places he’d traveled, showing off the volumes he brought back from various parts of the world. The bookstore was his passion. It was the only thing he had that kept him from taking the step that was closing in on him once more.
Death.

His human birthday was the one day a year he and all other turned vampires became fully human. They could do anything any other flesh and blood and beating heart person could do. Even die.

Oh, he could die any other time, as well. All he had to do was walk into a stream of midday sunlight and the life force which held him together would disintegrate and he’d be nothing more than vapor. He wouldn’t sizzle and burn. He’d been told he’d barely feel a thing. Whether that was true or not, he didn’t know. But he was tired, felt as though his soul, what was left of it, was stretched thin and to the point of completely unraveling. Vampires could go mad and there were days, hours, where he thought he just might.

Then, he’d lose himself in a book and the feeling would pass, calm would settle in, and he’d be all right. Those times were passing more quickly than they used to and something told him the end was near. Vampires were immortal, but those made against their will felt the call of death in ways those who were made willingly, never did.

It was calling to him.

bioLissa Matthews has many loves in her life: Family, friends, NASCAR, football, music of all kinds, cooking, BDSM, and last, but not least, coffee. She loves it so much she and those who know her are surprised she hasn’t floated away on a caffeine-induced cloud while giving life to feisty heroines and hunky heroes.

Lissa’s love of romance came from every book she has ever picked up. No matter what she read, she fell in love with the written word. The promise of escape, the deep, intriguing characters, and the winding journey from beginning to end, constantly drew her into bookstores and libraries as she was growing up.

Her first stories were written in junior high and she kept it up through college. She would stay up late at night when her kids were little reading romance and still penning her own stories. In 2007, when she and her family moved to North Carolina from Florida, she began pursuing writing as a profession and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else… Well, except maybe writing in her own cupcake bakery/coffee shop. But that dream is a ways down the road… Lucky for Lissa, she believes in dreams coming true.

Lissa is married with two children and seven, yes, seven cats. She blames her oldest child for the cats.

For more information on other books by Lissa, visit her website: http://www.lissamatthews.com

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2 ARe Imprint ebooks

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Beast The Untold Legend by @ShoshannaEvers #Giveaway

 

BeastTheUntoldLegend_453X680-72dpiBeast The Untold Legend
Shoshanna Evers

A Wicked Tale
ARe Books

Genre: M/F, Fairy Tale, PNR

blurbDeflowering the princess may just save her life.

Princess Justine found an unlikely ally when she stormed into the stables and found an angry, devastatingly handsome young man tending to her mare. Victor belonged to her soon-to-be Queen mother-in-law, and he had the whip marks on his muscled back to prove it.

The Queen, an enchantress well-accomplished in the art of black magic, turns Victor into a creature like no other. He’s a ten foot tall beastly wall of muscle, animalistic sinew and savagery ready to unleash every primal urge coiled within him. At the Queen’s command, he kidnaps Justine on her wedding day to the prince — but refuses to kill her. Instead, he keeps her safe by turning her from a threat to the Queen’s power, into a ruined woman who will never ascend the throne.

Now the Beast holds his princess captive in the woods, his focus on only one mission: deflower her and get her with child before the queen comes back to kill Justine herself.

He wasn’t expecting Justine to see past his terrifying form and straight into his heart. Setting her free is no more of an option than keeping her. But as their tentative alliance forms, both Victor and Justine can’t help but wonder— what if being together is their chance for true love?

Available at ARe
excerpt“Beast,” she said, trying to steady the tremble in her voice. “I have no quarrel with you, sir. Please don’t hurt me.”

To her surprise, the beast dropped down on all fours to be closer to her, and shook his massive head. A lock from his dark mane fell over his blue-gray eyes, and Justine paused. It made no sense for him to remind her of… Victor.

Maybe it was just that feeling they inspired in her that drew the comparison in her mind. That feeling she got when she stood on the edge of a cliff and stared down, and wondered what it would feel like to jump if only she had wings to keep her from crashing. Staring at the beast now, he felt like both the cliff… and the wings.

“I had no choice but to take you, Princess,” he said, his voice gravelly and deep. “Do not run from me.”

The cadence of his low voice sounded familiar, but that didn’t make sense.

“You’re not real,” Justine said. “I fainted at my wedding and hit my head; I’m sure of it.”
The beast loomed over her, covering her with his body, so there would be no escape. “I am real.”

“Please, do not harm me, Beast, I beg you.”

“I will not harm you,” he said. “Look at me, Princess. *You know me.*”
No. This wasn’t real. “You are a figment of my imagination. There is no beast like you in nature. ”

His face was millimeters from her own. He pressed his cheek to hers, his rough whiskers prickling her own delicate skin.

Goosebumps raised along her arms. If it were a dream, would she be feeling that?

“I am real,” he growled. “But you are right about one thing, Princess. I am not natural.”

“Please wake up,” she shouted, hoping it would jolt her out of her nightmare.
With a dangerous smile that bared his fangs, the beast gripped her arm. “This is no dream. Shall I pinch you, and prove it?”

“Yes,” she said, with a boldness she didn’t feel. This nightmare was going on too long—
The beast raised one thick eyebrow… though the eyebrow blended in on his face, which was covered in smooth short hairs that did nothing to hide his strong jaw and high cheekbones.

He picked her up off the ground, his large hands so human if not for the claws that adorned them. Yet they weren’t paws. He definitely had fingers, holding her firmly under her buttocks. Each one sent a line of heat through her chilled flesh.

The claws that had torn her gown earlier didn’t touch her now. Had he… retracted them? Like a cat?

With a groan that sounded too much like raw satisfaction for her sensibilities, he pinched a handful of the flesh on her bottom.

The jolt of pain made her yelp in surprise. *Pinches in a dream shouldn’t hurt.*

He dropped his mouth to her neck, his whiskers scratching her delicate skin, and nibbled her ear. It didn’t hurt, despite his sharp fangs. He wasn’t tasting her… he was toying with her.
His tongue was soft sandpaper against her fragile skin, like a cat tongue. It tickled and made her restless, unable to keep still his arms.

He pulled away from her ear to stare into her eyes. She couldn’t look away as he growled softly and pinched each handful of her ass cheeks again, holding her flesh hostage even as she squirmed against him.

*This is not a dream.*

“Stop!” she gasped, struggling to be free of his iron grip.
Her attempts to move her bottom away from his hands only served to press her mound against torso. Quick as could be, the beast adjusted one hand to grab the junction of her thighs, forcing a moan from her mouth.

“Am I real to you now, Justine?”

He knew her name. He used her name as if he knew *her.*

bioShoshanna Evers, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, has written dozens of sexy stories since her debut in 2010, including Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining), The Man Who Holds the Whip, and I Am Not Your Melody, all of which hit the bestseller lists in box sets. Among her most popular books are The Tycoon’s Convenient Bride…and Baby, Overheated, The Enslaved Trilogy, How to Write Hot Sex, and the controversial novella Held Captive by the Cavemen.

Shoshanna Evers has been listed on Amazon as one of the “Most Popular Authors in Romance,” as well as on the Contemporary Romance, and Erotica “Most Popular Authors” lists.

Reviewers have called Shoshanna’s writing “fast paced, intense, and sexual…every naughty fantasy come to life for the reader” with stories where “the plot is fresh and the pacing excellent, the emotions…real and poignant.”

Ms. Evers is also the cofounder of SelfPubBookCovers.com, the largest selection of instantly customizable, one-of-a-kind, premade book covers in the world.

Shoshanna used to work as a syndicated advice columnist and a registered nurse, but now she’s a full-time smut writer and a home-schooling mom. She lives in the mountains of north Idaho with her family and three big dogs, and loves to connect with readers on Twitter @ShoshannaEvers, and Facebook at

www.facebook.com/shoshanna.evers

For more information on other books by Shoshanna, visit her official website: www.ShoshannaEvers.com

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Between Him and a Hard Place by Kelex #Giveaway

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cover1Between Him and a Hard Place

Kelex

A Wicked Tale

ARe Books

Genre: M/M, Dystopian, Vampires, PNR

blurb

They survived catastrophe, but can they live on together?

Archer survived the zombie virus that brought down the world by doing things he didn’t know he was capable of.  When his traveling companion is murdered by dead ones, he knows his time has come.  Seconds before he’s slaughtered, a combat vehicle crashes through the scene and a masked man saves the day—a man he feels inexplicably drawn to.

Only the man isn’t a man, but a vampire.

Syn is a tracker, sent out by his kind to find and protect the last of the humans and the precious blood in their veins. Archer isn’t like the others he’s found.  He feels tied to the human in a way he can’t explain.  The two come together explosively, both fighting the intense emotion they feel before running to escape their burning lust.

Can they find a way back to one another?

Available at ARe

excerpt

Archer heard an engine rev out of nowhere, and a huge vehicle ran through the crowd of dead ones, mowing them down with ease. The passenger door was flung open before him. A masked man stared at him, hiding who his potential savior was. Or if he could trust whomever was behind it.

“Get in!” a tinny voice cried out.

Without much more consideration, as the inside of that truck was better than the death surrounding him, he jumped in. The man stepped on the gas before Archer could barely even attempt to slam the door closed, not that he could’ve had he wanted to.

“Get the door shut and fast!”

“I’m trying,” Archer screamed, stabbing his hunting knife into the head of a dead one clinging to the door. As soon as he kicked that one off, he jammed his knife into another, slamming the door on another set of decaying fingers and slicing them off. They fell in his lap, still wiggling.

A dozen dead ones hung on to the hood of the truck, which was being spun from side to side, trying to fling the creatures off. Archer reached for a non-existent seatbelt and then held on for dear life.

“Hold on to the wheel,” the guy screamed, rolling down his window.

The driver lifted a pistol as Archer grabbed the huge wheel and leaned out. One by one, he got the dead ones between the eyes, and they fell under the moving vehicle. Bouncing as they rumbled over the bodies, Archer tried to keep the thing on the road. He wasn’t even sure what it was. It was something between a truck and a tank, with an Army vibe. The tech surrounding the wheel was anything but Army-issued, though. Whatever it was, he’d never seen anything like it, and was more than happy to have seen it when he did.

Finally, the driver dropped back into his seat, the dead ones gone from the hood. Just as he began to roll up his window, a hand reached in. Lightning quick, the guy sliced the hand off with a scary-looking blade, then proceeded to roll his window up.

Archer leaned back into his seat and stared at the road ahead, stunned as hell he’d made it out alive. His heart continued to thump hard in his chest as he stared at the masked driver.

“Syn,” the guy said with that robotic-sounding voice. He held out his gloved hand.

Archer really took in the guy’s appearance for the first time. He wore some weird gas mask-like thing with goggles. Here it was, the middle of the summer, and he was covered from head to toe in black leather, from his neck to his gloved fingers and shitkickers.

“Syn’s short for Synclair,” the guy said again, still offering his hand. “As in my name. You’ve got one, right?”

“Archer,” he answered, finally taking the extended hand. “I can’t thank you enough,” he added as he shook it.

“No problem. I’ve been following you for weeks,” the masked man said, returning his hand to the wheel and looking ahead. “I’ve been just a day or so behind you for the last week. Good thing I caught up when I did.”

Archer frowned, his hackles rising. “Why were you following me?”

“I find humans to take to the Southern Citadel.”

The Southern Citadel? “Wait, what?”

“You haven’t heard of the Citadels?” he asked, glancing over at Archer.

Archer shook his head.

“There are three human cities. They’re walled and protected and already teeming with people. It’s my job to help find the last of the humans to take there so some sort of civilization can start again.”

Human cities? Walled and protected? It sounded too good to be true. And he’d learned anything that sounded too good to be true likely was. Even with his doubt, only one question truly came to mind. “You guys got food and water there?”

The masked man chuckled. “All you could ever want.”

“Then what are we waiting on?” Archer knew he might be walking into a trap, but the promise of hot food and a hot shower was too good to ignore. He was running on empty. He needed to regroup.

He glanced at the man driving, again wondering about the weird get-up, but weird was now the norm in their fucked up world.

bio

Kelex is a bestselling gay erotica author, writing contemporary to fantasy to sci-fi and everything between.

Living in the south, Kelex swelters at the laptop, writing spicy tales to the sound of soulful jazz music in the background.

For more information on Kelex’s books, please visit http://kelexerotica.blogspot.com/

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Single Wicked Wolf by Heather Long #Giveaway

Single Wicked Wolf Banner 851 x 315
SingleWickedWolf_453X680-72dpiSingle Wicked Wolf
Wolves of Willow Bend
Heather Long

A Wicked Tale
ARe Books

Genre: M/F, Werewolves, PNR

blurb

He’s single, wicked, and a perfect pretend boyfriend…but exactly who is she fooling?

Murphy DeWitt enjoyed two years touring American consulates in Europe as an assistant to a diplomatic attaché. It was a dream come true, and a hell of a learning experience. A master of languages, she knows how to get her point across. Romance, however, proves to be a tongue twister.

Now en route to Willow Bend for a friend’s wedding—without the make-believe boyfriend she created for her family—she debates how to confess her deception. Luckily, her flight includes a fantastically hot wolf that leaves her breathless and contemplating all kinds of naughty things.

Giovanni Conti thrives on protecting others. As a Centurion for the Seven Hills pack in Italy, it’s his pleasure to serve his Alpha wherever he is needed.

Dispatched ahead in preparation for the Alpha pair’s trip to Willow Bend, he has no problem entertaining the sexy wolf he encounters in the airport. The last thing the playboy wolf expects, however, is to find in Murphy the most captivating chase of his life…

Available at ARe

excerpt

“I’m in Rome, Mom,” Murphy repeated the information for the third time. The connection sucked, but she’d promised to let her family know prior to boarding the flight taking her back to the United States. After two years of hopping all over Europe, she was actually ready for a good old fashioned burger and beer with her friends. If it were warm enough, maybe they could have a picnic by the old swimming hole and catch up.

Navigating through the crowded corridors, she avoided being run over by businessmen hurrying, tourists gawking, and mothers herding. She’d already checked her suitcase, but kept her go bag with her. After visiting more than sixty U.S. missions and consulates throughout Europe, she was heading home to Willow Bend. The roaming had been fantastic for her, a dream come true. The idea of returning home—returning to her pack—made her wolf heart sing.

“Rome,” she said again when her mother’s voice crackled.

“I thought your last assignment was in Zurich.” Switzerland was an appropriate place to finish her European tour. Serving as a translator for an assistant attaché may have landed her in boring meeting after boring meeting, but it had also taken her to a wide variety of cities. A once in a lifetime opportunity, especially as not all packs welcomed foreigners in their territory. Thankfully, most had given her a pass for a day or two with freedom to leave the consulates or embassies. Only three times had she received a text from either her Alpha Mason or his second, A.J. advising her to stay with the detail in the host city or on the embassy grounds.

Some packs killed and asked questions later. She’d been turned when she was eighteen and at twenty-seven, she’d had nine years of being a wolf. Even after two years of limited shifting because of location and observation, she’d become more comfortable with her wolf. Still, she avoided fights—and she dodged another cluster of people. The airport made her crazy. She had to cross the entire length of it to get to her connecting flight to the U.S.

“I was, Mom,” she told her, weaving to avoid students from Japan who streamed past in organized fashion. Part of the reason she’d taken the job was when she’d asked Toman for the bite, she’d had to forgo a year of foreign studies.
Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin. Yes, totally worth it.

“Now I’m in Rome, I’ll be boarding my flight in fifteen and I’ll be home sometime tomorrow…and no, before you ask, don’t send anyone to pick me up. I’m going to rent a car.”

“You’re sure?” Alison DeWitt was the perfect mom. She baked cookies, attended all extracurricular functions, encouraged her and didn’t hover. But she always had to confirm everything. “The wedding is in three days, two after you get here, and I thought we could meet your young man before the wedding. It will be so crazy at the wedding.”

Crap. “I’m sure—I see my gate. I need to go. I’ll see you soon. Love you.” Ending the call before her mother could add anything else probably earned her bad daughter karma, but she didn’t want to admit the mysterious boyfriend stories she’d entertained them with on and off for the last few months were complete and utter lies. Self-defense was her only excuse. After Shiloh and Matt announced their mating, Mom began dropping huge, nuclear bomb-sized hints about marriage or mating prospects for Murphy. The first fabrication had been to get her mother off the phone, and it sort of snowballed from there.

Not one to lie to her parents, she’d come right to them at fifteen and confessed her desire to be a wolf. Her human parents were a part of the Willow Bend pack, and all of her siblings were human, too. Her aunt and uncle, and by extension her cousins, however, were wolves. Her aunt had taken the bite, and her children had been born wolves. Murphy wanted to be like them.

No one in her family tried to talk her out of it. Her stomach rumbled, so Murphy diverted into a gift shop. Bottle of water, one pre-packaged turkey sandwich, and some chips in hand, she dropped the food into her duffle bag after paying for it. Returning to the concourse, she blew out a breath. No, no one tried to talk her out of her desire to become a wolf. No one pushed her to be anything other than what she was—and her mom talked to every wolf family, including her sister, and they all took Murphy under their wings.

Eyes watering, she held her breath at the cloud of Chanel and sweat floating past her. Contrary to what most women thought, bathing in their perfume did not cover the lack of a shower. Learning to ignore her nose took practice, and the airport was a great place to remember not to suck in the scent of everyone in her path. A glance at her phone told her she had another forty minutes till her plane boarded, which was good. She would have time to eat and pee without going into the nasty little onboard bathroom.

Plan firm, she found an opening amongst the passengers hurrying along. Carry-on in hand, she heard a mother call out to her child in French. The snap in the mother’s tone jerked her attention more than the words. Homesickness swamped her all at once and tears filled her eyes. It had been so long since she’d seen her mother, save for the occasional Skype call, or been around the pack. The longing left her aching.

Distracted, she didn’t slow until she slammed into the hard bodied male and bounced off him. All the air whooshed out of her, and her chest actually hurt from the blow. If not for his hands on her arms steadying her, she would have landed on her ass. Embarrassing enough to slam into someone, worse to fall.

Tilting her head, she met the deep brown eyes glinting with concern and humor. The sexy brown eyes matched the sexy, rugged features. Very Italian. Very hot. Her nostrils flared and her heart clenched.

Oh. Crap. Very wolf.
~
bio

Heather Long likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books.

When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

Sign up for Heather’s newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/iKxQ5

For more information on other books by Heather, visit her website: http://www.heatherlong.net

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Giveaway 2 ARe ebooks (ARe Imprints)
a Rafflecopter giveaway

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How To Seduce A Gargoyle in 10 Days by Saranna DeWylde #Giveaway

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1How To Seduce A Gargoyle in 10 Days
Saranna DeWylde

A Wicked Tale
ARe Books

Genre: M/F, Paranormal , PNR

blurbGot gargoyle?

Ginger Butterbean would like to, but she’s not sure how to go about it. Her marriage of a hundred years has crumbled to dust and she’s worried her witchy bits might be so full of cobwebs, they’ve malfunctioned.

She needs sexy gargoyle Slade Nightwing to remind her of what it means to be a witch and that love isn’t just a fairytale.

Available at ARe

excerptGinger Butterbean had made a total ass out of herself at Midnight Cherrywood’s bachelorette tea.

She’d been raised in a time when witches didn’t behave the way she had. If her mother were alive, she’d have zapped her wrists with magick lightning the same as she had when Ginger was a witchling and used her magick inappropriately.

She sighed and decided that warlock society could damn well give her a break. Her marriage of one hundred years was circling the bowl, and a witch was entitled to act a little…crazy.

The little voice in her head reminded her that was really no excuse. Witches of good breeding didn’t behave this way.

Witches of good breeding looked the other way when their husbands cheated on them. Even if it was with Aloe Hugginfroth—slag extraordinaire.

Just thinking the other witch’s name made her hands tighten into claws and her nails dig into her palms.

Logically, she knew that she couldn’t only blame Aloe. Gavin had his part in it. If she were honest with herself, she couldn’t blame Aloe at all. It wasn’t her place to police Ginger’s husband. It wasn’t Ginger’s, either. Gavin had cheated.

If she could stop rage-flailing, she could even see why he cheated.

If he’d just left her, it would’ve still stung her pride, and it might have hurt her heart just a little bit. Their marriage had been over for a long time.

It was the public humiliation that made her so angry.

She’d spent her life being the perfect society witch, and this was what she’d earned for her trouble?

She’d only added fuel to the fire at Middy Cherrywood’s bridal tea by being such a bitch, and she’d practically—no, not practically—actually fellated the little novelty cock straws that the gargoyle entertainment had been handing out.

Ginger blushed after the fact.

She’d been lusting after them, but she’d denied their countrymen one of their main sources of support when she’d taken Gavin’s name off of her bank account. He was a big supporter of the Gargoyle Ball, a huge charity event that helped support post-war rebuilding. It fed hatchlings, provided medical care…

She was such an asshole.

There was no excuse for her behavior.

She’d gotten her revenge on Gavin. Publicly humiliating him, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

She didn’t know anything that would.

Ginger knew that was a lie. There was one thing that would make her feel better. She hadn’t been touched like a flesh and blood witch in over twenty years.

She wanted someone to pull her hair, fuck her hard, and tell her she was beautiful.
She didn’t think that was too tall an order.

Her witchy bits were probably so dried out they were like a condemned building.
Everything would come crashing down at the first touch.

Ginger wished she was as bold as Aradia Shadowins. She’d taken a gargoyle lover and didn’t give a flying newt’s ass what anyone thought about it. Ginger could admit that he was a delicious specimen of masculinity.

But it was his brother who’d captured her attention.

Slade Nightwing.

bioSaranna DeWylde has always been fascinated by things better left in the dark. She wrote her first story after watching The Exorcist at a slumber party. Since then, she’s published horror, romance and narrative nonfiction. Like all writers, Saranna has held a variety of jobs, from operations supervisor for an airline, to an assistant for a call girl, to a corrections officer. But like Hemingway said, “Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it.” So she traded in her cuffs for a full-time keyboard. She loves to hear from her readers.

For more information on other books by Saranna, visit her website: www.sarannadewylde.com

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Giveaway – 2 Reader’s choice of any eBook published by ARe Books.

Direct link to entry form

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc1164

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