Book Spotlight & Giveaway: Happy Place by L.P. Maxa

Book Spotlight: Embrace the Romance: Pets in Space 2 Anthology

Cover Reveal & Giveaway: Lover's Retreat by Kim Knight

Guest Post: Spicing Up Romances with Menage by Kelli Wilkins

The More the Merrier! Spicing Up Romances with Ménage

By Kelli A. Wilkins

www.amazon.com/author/kelliwilkins

Book Spotlight & Giveaway: Beauty of the Beast by Rachel Demeter

Beauty of the Beast

by Rachel L. Demeter Fairy Tale Retellings, #1 Publication Date: March 15, 2017 Genres: Historical Romance, Fairy Tale Retelling, Gothic Romance, Adult

🌹 Special $2.99 sale price through March 19th 🌹

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🌹 Book Blurb 🌹

Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story—retold with a dark and realistic twist.

  A BEAST LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS PAST

Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago.

A BEAUTY IN PURSUIT OF A BETTER FUTURE

  Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle—unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place.

 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

 Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more…

  Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice. Beauty of the Beast is the first standalone installment in a series of classic fairy tales reimagined with a dark and realistic twist.

  Disclaimer: This is an edgy retelling of the classic fairy tale. Due to strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.

🎬 Book Trailer 🎬

🌹 Excerpt 🌹

~ Isabelle bravely takes her papa’s place ~

Quite a while later, as Isabelle relaxed and soaked in the hearth’s warmth, she found herself nodding off to sleep. Her mind detached from the stress of the past few days and receded to another time and place. She recalled her journeys with Papa when she’d been little more than a girl. All the villages they’d passed through; all the faces they’d seen. She thought of reading fairy tales beneath a bejeweled sky, of leaning against a mountain of crates as Papa pointed out the constellations and their eternal stories— Rattling seized her attention and ruptured her thoughts. She peered at Papa, who was carefully examining his teacup. Not with his sightless eyes, of course—but with wandering fingertips. The same impressive coat of arms engraved the fine proclaim; Papa ran his weathered fingers over its surface, clearly in awe of the raised gold decorations and studded gems. The thing must have cost a small fortune. Indeed, she’d never beheld such finery. Even the wares Papa had once sold paled in comparison. The faded brim of his top hat hung low and covered his glassy eyes. Then her mouth went dry as he slipped the teacup inside his coat. Has he gone mad—or simply grown that desperate? It was completely unlike Papa to steal. How could he—and after being shown hospitality? Her outcry startled him. He half leapt from the chair—and Isabelle watched in horror as the teacup tumbled out from the coat. It rattled and rolled onto the stone ground, shattering into a million pieces. A gloved hand broke through the darkness, quicker than a lightning strike. The hooded figure emerged from the shadows and seized Papa by his cravat. His other hand clasped a branch of flickering candles. The illumination flashed across the dark folds of his cloak, soaking him in a pool of light. “Stealing from me, are you? Breaking my family’s keepsakes?” A sharp jerk forced Papa to his feet. The rough movement sent the top hat tumbling from his head and onto the stone floor. Papa’s waxen features melted into an expression of horror and confusion. Her heart pounding, Isabelle lunged forward and frantically cried out, “Let him alone! It was an accident. Don’t you see that you’re frightening him?” “Good.” The simple declaration threw Isabelle into stunned silence. Papa called out for her as the man strode from the sitting room, his solid legs eating up the ground in swift, decisive strides. Mon Dieu, he was physically dragging Papa through the castle. This isn’t happening. It cannot be… “Stop it! Stop it now—you monster!” Isabelle picked up her skirts and frantically chased after them. Parts of the castle were dark and unkempt, causing her to trip several times over wayward pieces of furniture. Her heart violently pounded in her ears. The man moved impressively fast; between his agile stride and sweeping cloak, he almost appeared to float through the corridors. Plopping onto the stone floor, his dog gave up trying to keep pace. Dust motes rose and fell in midair like ashes, obscuring her vision. She followed the branch’s illumination, watching as the candlelight threw prisms along the walls and floor. “Please, monsieur. Have mercy, I beg you! He didn’t know any better. He's not in his right mind. He would never—” “No one steals from me.” His low voice echoed in the darkness, steady as a war drum. Isabelle felt herself descending. She ducked as she crossed a low archway, where she was met with a steep flight of stairs. A mouth into Hell. The ceiling lurked unusually low and was strung with cobwebs. Isabelle hiked up her skirts, which were now a filthy mess, and raced down the decayed steps. The hooded figure kept a swift pace while she desperately pursued Papa’s frightened cries. Plagued by the darkness, Isabelle tripped and crashed down the stone steps. Pain cascaded through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her skinned knees and elbows throbbed, her heart pounded, her head burned. She spared a moment to catch her breath as she struggled to her feet and resumed her vain quest. Papa’s muffled pleas and the sound of slamming bars ripped at her very soul. The dank dungeon was nearly black. She slowed her pace, moving toward a beam of light at the far end. Rats the size of kittens scurried across the stone floor and filled the darkness with their terrible squeaking. Her heart thudding, Isabelle rushed through the maze of cells, following Papa’s voice and that flickering light. Chains and crude-looking objects littered the ground—torture devices from a past age, she realized with a shudder. She found them. Papa was grasping the rusted bars; disoriented and frightened, he was murmuring incoherent pleas. Tears fell from his sightless eyes, though Isabelle knew he fought to restrain them. The branch of candles sat in front of the cell, its wavering light illuminating his terrified expression. “Forgive me. I have wronged you when you showed my daughter and me hospitality and mercy. Please, monsieur!” The man towered before him, silent and still. His long arms remaining crossed, he stood with his lean torso straighter than a broadsword. His hood was drawn back, though Isabelle couldn’t see his face from her angle. “Papa, I’m here,” she said beneath the weight of a strained breath. “I-Isabelle?” Not sparing a moment, she dashed over to the cell—and the man slowly rotated into sight. Except he resembled more of a beast than any man she’d ever seen. Isabelle clamped both hands over her mouth and forced her eyes away. The sight burned—and the inferno in his gaze only kindled that fire. Half of his face looked monstrously twisted; charred mounds of puckered flesh distorted the features beyond any recognition, draining him of all traces of humanity. Those heaps of burned, leather-like skin gleamed and glistened in the candlelight. His hairline receded on the left side of his face and slanted high above a shriveled ear. Under the severe scarring, his age was more or less indistinguishable—though Isabelle guessed he wasn’t a day under thirty-five. But his eyes were breathtaking. Two brilliant sapphires. There was also a great sadness and anger in those eyes, as if he’d suffered more than his share of original sin. Alas, as she gazed into his eyes, all she saw was blue ice—an endless, arctic landscape of cold desolation. The man turned away, appearing greatly affected by her stare, and hastily rearranged the hood. His scarred hands trembled as he smoothed down the cloak’s thick folds. “Release him,” she demanded. “He didn’t mean any harm. I—” “No one meddles with my family’s possessions. He can rot down here as my prisoner. He ought to count himself fortunate that I haven’t taken his hand.” “Your prisoner? This... this is a mistake! You must believe me. He’d never—” A deep, husky chuckle cut through her plea. “Even so.” “Please. Just let him out.” “It’s too late for that.” Those words seemed to speak volumes. He exhaled a long breath, and Isabelle watched as it unfurled against the darkness in a cloud. Silence. “Why... why are you so angry? Why must you be so hateful? So cruel?” “If I let him go,” he said at length, “what can you offer in return?” Isabelle couldn’t find her tongue. She wandered directly in front of the cell, almost in a lucid trance, and clasped the cold bars. Papa was huddled in the corner now, coughing and shivering. Guilt, unlike anything she’d known before, pulsated through her. I’m to blame for this. And if Papa stays here, he’ll die well within a fortnight, likely much sooner… “Get out of my sight.” The man’s voice jarred Isabelle from her inward stupor. She turned to him and stepped forward, raising her chin at a defiant angle. I am not so easily broken or frightened. I am a survivor. She scanned her empty, dank surroundings: the cold stone walls, sweeping cobwebs, and blazing branch of candles. Despair encased her. Stark emptiness. She dared to step closer while a faint trace of pity bloomed inside her heart. They stood centimeters apart. Heat radiated from the man’s body, surrounding her, immersing her. Isabelle vainly searched for softness him, but only a dark, embittered spirit reached her. She stared up at his towering frame and gestured for him to bow forward. He hesitated, then did as she commanded. Her hands shook, damn her, as she peeled back his hood and met that piercing gaze again. Half of his face was handsome—devastatingly so. In her twenty-two years of life, she’d never beheld such haunting beauty. Jet‑black waves, rich and flowing, framed the chiseled lines of his startling features. Stubble peppered the strong curve of his jawline and shadowed a smooth, sculpted cheekbone. The right side of his face was striking, beautiful—a stark contrast to its wrecked counterpart. And within those patrician angles and intense eyes, she encountered his humanity. His was a face of inconsistencies. Complex. Damaged. Predatory. And more than a bit intriguing. “I will stay with you,” she heard herself whisper. “In my father’s place.” “Isabelle—no! I forbid it!” The man folded long, strong arms across his broad chest. His gaze crawled down her face and settled on the rise of her breasts—planting directly on her silver cross. “I demand he’s seen by the finest of physicians.” “Isabelle! Listen to me! I’m an old man. I’m dying. I—” The man’s dark, strangely erotic voice cut through the cellar, and his eyes whipped back to her own with a startling force. “As my mistress.” “What?” “You must stay here as my mistress. For as long as I demand. Perhaps forever.” Forever. The word rang with a note of finality. “Please, Isabelle! I beg you. Don’t do this!” How could I endure it? “Do as I say and your father shall safely return home.” He waved his cloaked arms with a magician’s delicate grace. “Your father—whatever family you may have—shall want for nothing. A house, clothing, anything they require. You only need to say the word. Your father will be under my protection—under the care of nurses and physicians—until his last breath.” Isabelle briefly recalled what—and who—was waiting for her back in Ruillé. This fate wouldn’t be much worse. This desolate castle could serve as the perfect hideout. Papa would live in France, free from Raphael’s clutches and in the hands of the world’s greatest physicians… “How... how can I trust you?” And does he even have the wealth to uphold such a promise? “You cannot.” She had faith Papa would send help once his health recovered. Or she’d find a way out, means of escape. In the interim, she would survive this grim castle and whatever horrors it concealed. Papa would not. The castle would crush him beneath its dark heel in a matter of days. Isabelle glanced at Papa again, then stared into the man’s brilliant eyes. There, lurking within those expressive depths, she found the softness she’d pursued minutes before.   She sucked in her breath and nodded her agreement. “It is done.” The man swept backward. “He’s to remain down here till first light. Then our agreement shall be carried out. In the meantime, I will bring blankets and food—” “But it’s so cold! He—” “Stole from me while he was a guest in my castle.” He would not compromise. That much was certain. “I demand to stay with him.” “As you please.” He unlocked the cell. “Beyond the dungeon lies a labyrinth. Try to escape, and you’ll be lost forever.” He tapped the wall with his booted heel. It swiveled, spun, and rotated, sweeping her captor to the other side...

🌹 Excerpt 🌹

~ Adam gives Isabelle his library ~

“Close your eyes, ma belle.” Strong hands cupped either side of her face. She felt as Adam’s thumbs tentatively brushed back and forth, stroking her cheeks in reverent caresses. Isabelle shut her eyes and slipped beneath his spell... leaned closer in the darkness until they stood heartbeat to heartbeat. The warmth of his breaths teased her hairline, bringing with them a minty scent. His thumbs descended to just below her chin. She lowered her face... felt a featherlight kiss land on her brow. It happened so subtly and gently—Isabelle wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it. She was allowing herself to feel too much. A stab of guilt penetrated her chest as her thoughts crept inward. Yet instincts told her to trust in her gut—to allow her heart to speak over her tumultuous thoughts. So she shoved away her guilt and allowed herself to simply feel. Pounding footfalls echoed in the room, attesting to its sheer size. Isabelle waited in anticipation under the veil of darkness, her small hands knotted in Stranger’s wiry coat. The steady beat of Adam’s boots floated away from her. A loud whipping noise and a burst of light illuminated the room as he tugged a heavy damask curtain aside. “Open your eyes, Isabelle.” She did as he commanded. Shafts of sunlight tore inside, dancing across the marble floor in blaring prisms—though the darkness still obstructed the room’s contents. Isabelle’s imagination soared as she fantasized about what lay in those clotted shadows. Pale light fringed Adam’s formidable shape, contrasting his silhouette against the dim atmosphere. He paused in front of the opened window and folded both arms behind his ramrod-straight back. Isabelle gazed at the line of his body, unable to tear her eyes away. Indeed, light from the window set him aglow, shrouding him in a cloak of gold. He wore black trousers and a white silk shirt, which fluttered lightly when he moved. Over the past several days, he’d made a habit of abandoning the cloak and hood. Isabelle had become accustomed to the mismatched sides of his face; where she once felt horror and revulsion, she now tingled with curiosity and budding admiration. Alas, the only true revulsion that remained was the memory of that night… Adam was an undeniably prideful man, and she knew he’d only scorn her pity. Even his stance exuded a sense of importance and authority. Strange, how he was so often shy and almost childlike; then, as if by a flip of a coin, he’d turn regal, confident. It was as though he was battling two separate halves... as if an intricate part of himself kept fighting to emerge. Not unlike the two contrasting sides of his face, Isabelle mused. For a suspended moment, he stood in front of the conservatory window, his scarred hands planted on his lean hips as he surveyed the distant gardens. Then he crossed the room, his footfalls amplified by the medallion flooring, and thrust open another curtain. Whoosh. Light flooded the space and chased away the shadows, and the room’s contents were ushered into view. Isabelle nearly lost her breath at the sight. It was a beautiful library—the most stunning sight she’d ever beheld. Ornate, intricately carved shelves towered against the painted walls and reached for a gilded ceiling. A baroque chandelier hung in the heart of the room; its crystals sparkled like diamonds as they drank in morning’s light. Isabelle fought to temper her racing heart as she gaped at the sweeping shelves. An intimate reading nook lined a curved window; lush pillows decorated the chaise, and a brass candelabra towered beside it. In all her life, she’d never seen so many books. There were far too many to count. Too many books to read in one lifetime. Isabelle couldn’t help but think of the little storekeeper from Ruillé’s bookshop; she imagined his astonishment, how his bushy white brows would rise at the sight of Adam’s vast library. He’d run his wrinkled fingertips over the bindings and spines, reverently caressing each one. Her heart twisted with nostalgia at the thought of her former home. Once Raphael had entered her life, however, Ruillé had transformed into a prison. This castle should have been just that. A jail cell. Yet she’d never felt more free than in that moment. The library was larger than her whole cottage; several book-filled rooms connected to it, each one built with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Three sliding ladders were nestled against the circular walls, soaring to the very top of the domed ceiling. She spun on her heels, twirling in place—watching as the immense collection flurried by in a fantastic mosaic of colorful spines and intricate woodwork. Her eyes planted on Adam, who stood in front of the large row of glowing, arched windows. His arms were still folded behind his body, his sleek back straighter than an arrow. She couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t move forward, although she ached to reach out and embrace his solid body. How would it feel to be enveloped inside that commanding strength? A devastating smile spread across his misshapen features and cut her thought short. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which was highlighted by the sun’s rays, and then hesitantly strode toward her. His boots rapped against the floor, and the sound swelled through the library. Stranger barked as he approached, the loud noise echoing in the room and jarring Isabelle from her trance. “Do... do you like it?” Finally he stood before her, silent and still. Isabelle inhaled a long breath, then laid her palm on the left side of his face. Her fingertips danced over the raised ridges and welts, the reddish scars and shriveled ear. His eyes shuttered closed, and she felt a shudder rake through his tense body. “Yes. I love it.” And I'm starting to fall in love with you, too...  

🌹 Meet the Author 🌹

Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love. Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul. Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness. Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words. Don’t be a stranger! Rachel loves to connect and interact with her readers:

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Author Interview: Rule Breaker by Sienna Snow

Release Day Giveaway: A Knight with Grace by Laurel O'Donnell

About the Book

Title: A Knight with Grace

Author: Laurel O’Donnell

Genre: Historical Romance

Buy: Amazon

Lady Grace Willoughby defies her father’s orders to marry Sir William de Tracy and escapes with a friend. She has no intention of wedding a cursed man, a man ostracized from the church, a man who would only doom any future children they might have to the fires of Hell. She prays for a knight to rescue her.

Excommunicated and outcast for a horrible crime in his past, Sir William de Tracy searches for forgiveness. Marriage has never crossed his mind until Lord Willoughby commissions him to retrieve his fleeing daughter and honor the dying wish of his father by marrying Grace.

But things are not as they seem. And when an assassin tries to kill Grace, William must choose between his soul and the woman he has come to love. Can William and Grace overcome their past and find the redemption and love both are so desperately seeking?

Author Bio

Born in Chicago, Illinois, Laurel began writing in junior high school when she carried a pen and paper around wherever she went. In college, she took fiction writing classes to further her skill. Her love of the medieval time period led her to work at King Richard’s Faire in Wisconsin where she learned stage combat and sword fighting. The Faire fed her insatiable appetite for the medieval era.

Laurel has many books yet to write and hopes you will join her on her journey to bring the medieval era to life! Please visit her at her website www.laurel-odonnell.com for the latest information about upcoming releases, contests and to contact her.

Links

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Amazon Author Page

Giveaway

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Fun Book Publicity by Annette Gisby

Just for Fun
Ten Ways to Get Publicity for Your Book

So you've written your masterpiece, had it published and now you're waiting for all those sales to roll in. But they haven't? No-one's buying? The bookstores don't want to know? There are millions of books, how can you get people to notice yours?

Just for some fun, here are ten things you can think on to make sure that the bookstores will come to you, just begging you to let them stock your book. :-)

1. Change your name to Stephen King/Nora Roberts/John Grisham/James Patterson by deed poll.

2. Have an affair with the president/prime minister/king/queen/prince of your country. (delete as appropriate)

3. Buy a million copies yourself to get in the Best Seller Lists.

4. Fail at Pop Idol

5. Get evicted from the Big Brother House.

6. Streak at a popular sporting event.

7. Do a naked skydive with only a copy of your book to hide your modesty. :-)

8. Become a supermodel/actor/sports person.

9. Buy thousands of your books and have them delivered to the pavement outside the New York's Times office.

10. Become a recluse, don't give interviews and watch them coming to you.

These are just for fun, not an instruction manual. :-)

Author Interview: Icy Passage by Ann Gimpel

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About the Author:

Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients, now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality. When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with her camera. She’s published over 30 books to date, with several more planned for 2016 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and wolf hybrids round out her family.

Do you plan everything or just let the story flow?

I do a little of both. Sometimes the story flows, and sometimes I plan it out. Icy Passage went through several iterations before this final version.

Do your characters ever want to take over the story?

Oh hell yes. All the time, and the sad part is I let them. Wimp that I am.

What is your favourite food?

Anything Japanese.

Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Morning person.

Where do you dream of travelling to and why?

I’d love to return to Antarctica. I’ve been there twice now, and I’d really enjoy another trip, but my husband is in full rebellion.

Do distant places feature in your books?

Absolutely. I’ve been fortunate enough to travel a lot and I’ve climbed mountains all over the world. I work distant places into many of my books.

Do you listen to music while writing?

No, it distracts me.

Could you tell us a bit about your latest release?

Antarctica was always a lifelong dream of mine. I know. Weird. Right? A trip fell into my lap in March 2014. We had very little time to prepare, but we managed. The plan was to fly to Ushuaia and board a boat for the Antarctic Continent and South Georgia Island. Along the way, we were supposed to do a mountaineering crossing of South Georgia, complete with ropes and crampons and living in a tent. The last part of March is late in the year for Antarctica--coming into their winter since the seasons are reversed. We had hideous weather, huge waves, hurricane force winds, but I still adored it. In fact, I liked it so much, we spent the month of November 2014 in Antarctica too. A very different trip, and I'm glad we went both times because we saw different things.

A story started percolating on the first voyage. I was working on another book at the time, so I tried very hard not to start on Icy Passage, but I broke down in the Buenos Aires airport on the trip home and wrote the first thousand words. Aside from doing my damnedest to breathe life into the unbelievable pristine beauty and wonder of that part of the world, I brushed up on the hard science I cut my teeth on as an undergraduate in college.

Icy Passage is a special book for me because it blends my knowledge of medicine, my love of the world under a microscope, and my fascination with Antarctica into one package.

What have you learned about writing and publishing since you first started?

Aw geez. I could write books about that. Everything in this business changes fast, but the two things you always need are top flight cover art and a strong editor who isn’t afraid to point out your flaws.

Is there anything you would do differently?

Yes. I wouldn’t stick with small presses for 25 books. I needed them at the front end because I truly knew nothing, but I could’ve branched out on my own after about ten books. Other authors told me I was nuts, but I wouldn’t listen. Now that I’m fully Indie, I’ll never look back.

Who, or what, if anything has influenced your writing?

Urban fantasy writers like Charles deLint, Illona Andrews, Sherrilyn Kenyon. High fantasy authors like Patricia McKillip, Ursula LeGuin, Robert Jordan, Terry Goodkind.

Anything you would say to those just starting out in the craft?

Write every day. Find a good critique group, a place where people will tear the living crap out of your writing. Your job is to be strong enough to recognize which parts need changing and which parts truly are your voice.

What are three words that describe you?

Determined. Courageous. Thick-skinned.

What's your favourite book or who is your favourite writer?

It’s a tough call between Outlander and LOTR.

Blurb of your latest release or coming soon book

The one right before Icy Passage was Heart’s Flame. Here’s its blurb:

Tumble into a world where magic won, but the price was high enough to annihilate almost everything—including love.

Life in a Were bordello is all Keira has ever known. None of the magicians’ guilds wanted her because of her mixed blood, and they didn’t protest when the Weres bound her as an indentured hooker. Mired in the hopelessness of her dreams, she longs for more.

Barrett’s a full-blood magic wielder who operates a magician supply shop in what’s left of Seattle. No one is more surprised than him when the Sidhe leader commands him to extricate Keira from the Weres. He knows her because she loves to while away time in his shop, but she’s always skittered away whenever he got too close. Too bad because she’s twenty shades of gorgeous.

Magic and intrigue throw Keira and Barrett together. Attraction ignites, burning white hot, but Keira has other priorities—like learning to control brand new magic she had no idea she possessed. Besides, Barrett is such a hunk of a man, surely he has lots of women stashed somewhere. He wants her too, has for a long time, but once he spirits her away from the Weres, his job is done. Far better to keep his distance and allow her to seize the destiny she was born for.

Except it’s not what he wants. Her, either. Can they bridge the gap between them before it’s too late?

List of previous books if any

There are a lot of them. My website, http://www.anngimpel.com is a good place to find my books. I also run my own e-commerce site where readers can find my books. Here’s the link to it. https://store7714213.ecwid.com/

Any websites/places readers can find you on the web.

My website is above. Here are some other links:
http://anngimpel.blogspot.com
http://www.amazon.com/author/anngimpel
http://www.facebook.com/anngimpel.author
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)

Thank you so much for hosting me, and for a very thorough interview! Some of those questions made me dig deep.

You're very welcome :)

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Icy Passage
Ann Gimpel
Dream Shadow Press
110K words
Release Date: 2/29/16
Genre: Supernatural thriller romance

Tumble into the icy danger of Antarctica with a blazing hot romance. Mittens and fan required.

Book Description:

Fresh out of residency, Dr. Kayna Quan opts for a tour in Antarctica. Money is short, so she hires on as medical officer aboard a Russian research vessel headed for McMurdo Station. Primed for almost anything, she plays her paranormal ability close to the vest.

Stationed on remote South Georgia Island for two years, Brynn McMichaels is eager for a change. When cultures of the single-celled organism, archaea, overgrow their bins in his lab and begin shifting into another form, he worries he’s losing his mind and talks with scientists at McMurdo, but they have problems of their own—bad ones. Brynn agrees to help. The weather’s too uncertain to send a plane, so he hitches a ride aboard Kayna’s ship and brings his mutant culture colonies along.

Attraction sparks, urgent, hot and powerful, between Brynn and Kayna, but her disclosure about her magic is a tough nut to crack. It doesn’t help that her dead father is stalking her. Lethal cultures, bizarre illness, and McMurdo’s refusal to let them land force Brynn and Kayna into an uneasy alliance. Will their fragile bond be enough to thwart the powers trying to destroy Earth, and them along with it?


Amazon | BN | iTunes | Kobo | ARe | Google Play


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Book Spotlight & Giveaway: Wicked For You by Erzabet Bishop

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Wicked for You
Westmore Wolves 
Book 1
Erzabet Bishop
Genre: Shifters/Werewolves, Erotic Romance
Date of Publication: February 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-943576-64-7
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron­Hill

Book Description:

True love awaits. Passion burns bright…

Carrick is an Alpha werewolf preparing for the annual Pack Gathering. Pack law dictates he must have a mate by his thirty-sixth year or forfeit his rule. But what if he’s already found her and lost her in a swirl of cinnamon-scented dreams?  Can this Alpha brave a sea of single wolfy females to find the one woman who enchanted his heart?

She’s a kitty girl, in a wolfy world…

Sage is the curvy owner of the Hot Whips Café. Bound by pack law, even as an adopted cat, she must attend the Gathering for the Alpha to select a new mate. Heading to a wolf ball isn’t high on her list of fun activities, but damned if she can’t get the image of a certain amber-eyed wolf out of her head.

***

Excerpt:

Carrick stood with his back to his second in command, his wolf pacing beneath his skin. He wanted to break the double doors open and bound into the woods rather than face the torment waiting for him in the grounds outside. Women. Hundreds of single wolfy females. All vying for the privilege of putting his cock and balls into their handbags like some godforsaken trophy.

Fuck.

Ever year he’d dodged the bullet, but this year one of the hungry piranha circling his house would become his mate.

Double fuck. He’d been through this before. He already had one. He just needed to find her, but the elders wouldn’t listen.

“You have to make a choice, Alpha.” Reid crossed the room and stood in front of him, blocking his view.

Carrick growled and spun away. “I’ll find her.”

Reid’s lips flattened, his dark eyes flashing in his anger. “You know the rules. Thirty-six is the last year an Alpha can rule without a mate by his side. The pack needs an Alpha female to be whole.”

“The pack is stronger than it’s been, or are you forgetting how I got here?”

Reid swallowed and backed up a step. “No. Justin was a horrible Alpha. You were right to destroy him. He was wrong for the Westmore Pack. Evil.”

And the bastard had been. He’d abused his power as Alpha to enslave his pack rather than uplift it. The amount of victims he’d unearthed in the days that followed would disturb him for the rest of his days. He could still see the faces of the women Justin had taken against their will and the shivering form of his sister and the strange girl who stood up to a monster.

Hers was the face that  haunted his dreams. Her need reached out to him and made him into who he needed to be to overcome a near impossible situation. He had been up against a being far superior in strength but what he lacked in brawn, he’d more than made up for in sheer bullheadedness. And the electricity he felt when he touched her. His wolf recognized his mate and so did he. Now all that remained was to find her. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been looking. No one knew her name and, with her face partially shifted, her image was only a fleeting ghost in his mind.

“You’re damned right.” Carrick leaned back against his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His father would be proud of the work he’d done. He’d turned the Westmore Estate from a near financial ruin to a lucrative operation centered on the newly formed security company owned by him and his second, Reid. Where people had once feared shifters for their propensity for violence because of Justin and his henchmen, he’d turned the tide and people paid for their protection. Handsomely. So much so that when the media had heard about the weekend’s festivities, he’d been dubbed the Ultimate Bachelor.

It made him fucking nauseous.

The one person he needed to find and he couldn’t and it made him crazy. Now, in a matter of a few days, he would either have to relinquish his role as Alpha or marry a gold digging piece of arm candy. The closest person he’d found was a barista at the coffee place he frequented but she didn’t look anything like the girl in his dreams. And now whenever she saw him coming, she hightailed it for the hills.

But she had popped a whisker.

Just like his goddess.

Jesus. He was losing his shit. Completely.

***

About the Author:

Erzabet Bishop is the award winning author of Sigil Fire, Written on Skin, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts interactive erotic romances, Holiday Cruise, Gingerbread Dreams, Pomegranate, Crave, A Red Dress for Christmas, Holidays in Hell, Lipstick, The Science of Lust, Club Beam, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection and multiple books in the Erotic Pagan Series. She is a contributing author to Club Rook, Taboo II, Hungry for More, A Christmas to Remember, Forbidden Fruit, Sci Spanks, Spank or Treat, Sweat, When the Clock Strikes Thirteen, Bossy, Cougars, Can’t Get Enough, Slave Girls, The Big Book of Submission, Anything She Wants, Bondage Bites, Coming Together: Girl on Girl, Coming Together: For the Holidays and more. She was a finalist for the GCLS awards in 2014 and 2015. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores.

For more information on books by Erzabet, visit her website:
http://erzabetwrites.wix.com/erzabetbishop

https://www.facebook.com/erzabetbishopauthor

http://www.pinterest.com/erzabetbishop/

http://www.twitter.com/erzabetbishop

***

Tour giveaway 

2 winners to receive two eBooks from ARe books.

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Author Interview: W.E. Lawrence

About the Author:

W. E. Lawrence graduated in 1978 from the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill with a BS in business administration. He has run a successful home health care supplies distributorship for the past twenty-three years.

Passionate about God, writing, reading, family, sports, politics, and America, Lawrence currently lives in Davidson, North Carolina, with his lovely wife and their two wonderful children.

W. E. Lawrence enjoys writing historical romance novels filled with action, adventure, and suspense. He published his debut novel Guardian of Paradise in October 2014.  To learn more, go to http://welawrenceauthor.wix.com/author

Q.  Do you plan everything or just let the story flow?

A.  Actually, I’ve tried it both ways, but I feel that you need a least some sort of outline to follow, either in your head or written down.  Before I started my first project I read a couple of good instructional books on novel plotting which recommended  outlining the entire book using “section sheets” to make certain you hit your “target” word count and your story didn’t run out of steam halfway into the tale.  It worked out well and I found this was good advise, especially for a new writer.  In my second project I wrote from a general outline in my head and I ended coming up short of my intended length.  It worked out all right though as I went back and added scenes which made it a better story.

Q.  Do your characters ever want to take over the story?

A.  I’ve heard of this happening with other writers but it seems kind of silly to me.  Perhaps it’s simply because I’m a fairly new author and it just hasn’t happen yet.  The characters, as well as the plot, are the product of the writer’s imagination and it only makes sinse that they follow that plot.  I will admit though, that sometimes when I’m imaging a scene with dialog between characters, I feel like I’m dictating the conversation instead of forcing it.

Q.  What is your favourite food?

A.  I enjoy far too many to have a favorite.  I like Italian, Chinese, Mexican, all kinds of seafood, a good steak, barbeque, and it’s hard to beat a grilled burger or hot dog.

They say variety is the spice of life, don’t they?

Q.  Are you a morning person or a night owl?

A.  I used to be a night owl but I’m afraid I’ve grown to old for that nonsense now.

Q.  Do distant places feature in your books?

A.  Absolutely, my first book is set on a ficticinal South Pacific Island, and the second book takes place among ancient ruins in Southern Peru.

Q.  Do you listen to music while writing?

A.  No, I find it distracting; too difficult to concentrate.

Q.  Could you tell us a bit about your latest release?

A. My latest novel, Chakana, was released in December 2015. It is a historical romance novel filled with action, adventure, suspense, and intrigue. Reviewers have compared it to Indiana Jones.

Here’s the synopsis:

In 1940, James Fleming, the original British secret agent, races on a high-stakes mission to track down the lost Incan treasure of King Huascar.  He meats Kate Rhodes, a policewoman on leave from Ohio, and together they decode clues and face the challenges of the Chakana designed to allow only the most devoted to escape alive.

Among the ancient ruins of Peru, disaster hides around each corner.  They battle Incan death traps and an international artifact smuggler who will do anything to acquire the hidden wealth.  If James and Kate fail, the Nazi’s Third Reich could win WWII and take over the world.  There’s intrigue, danger, adventure, and even romance in their quest to save the free world.

Q.  What have you learned about writing and publishing since you first started?

A.  Almost everything: from the beginning “Hook” to the climax and Wrap-up.  I’ve learned about point of view (POV) and there there should only be one per scene.  I’ve learned to have surprises throughout the story to maintain interest.  It has and will continue to be an ongoing process.

Q.  Is there anything you would do differently?

A.  Only that I would have started much sooner.

Q.  Who, or what, if anything has influenced your writing?

A.  Reading, Movies, and Television

Q.  Anything you would say to those just starting out in the craft?

A.  Don’t do it for fame and fortune.  You’ll only end up frustrated and disappointed.  Do it because it’s what you enjoy doing.

Q.  What are three words that describe you?

A.  Driven / Literate / Immature

Any websites/places readers can find you on the web.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WE-Lawrence-Author-1437180919937556/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/WELawrenceBooks

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9531660.W_E_Lawrence

Book Spotlight & Giveaway: Hargrove House by Allie Harrison

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HARGROVE HOUSE by Allie Harrison is a suspenseful, haunting tale that will capture you…heart and soul. Despite her terror, Torrie has no choice but to once again enter the haunted Hargrove House. When she discovers the graves in the cellar, she’ll find that there are things more frightening than ghosts. The house is waiting for her... They are waiting for her... If you enjoyed THE LAST VICTIM by Karen Robards, Hargrove House will warm your heart, and chill you to the bone.

Title: Hargrove House
Author: Allie Harrison
Series: The Haunted #1
Genre: Paranormal Suspense w/ Romantic Elements
Release Date: October 2nd, 2015 
Publisher: Indie Published
Print Length: 216 pages
Format: Digital
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9969048-0-3

Synopsis: 

As a child, Torrie Reynolds entered the haunted Hargrove House on a dare. Terrified by what she'd heard while inside Hargrove House, she avoided it since. Now fifteen years later, Torrie is an interior decorator. When Will Dalton buys the infamous Hargrove House and offers Torrie the job of refurbishing it, she has no choice but to take the offer to keep her business afloat. As the house is restored and rooms come alive with character and color Torrie brings to them, her fear of the house fades. Hargrove House begins to even feel like home to her. With each finished renovation project, it is harder for Torrie to leave. It is even harder for her to leave the comfort of Will Dalton's arms. But she discovers there are things more terrifying than ghosts when she learns why Will is digging in the dark, frightening cellar.

***

Excerpt:

The door knob was cold in her palm. Surely the door wouldn’t be unlocked. The old creepy house had been vacant forever.

It wasn’t locked. In fact, the knob turned easily and the door opened. The eerie thought that the house wanted her to come in slipped through her.

The light from the street filtered into the foyer, but only a little. Everything else was nothing more than a mixture of gray shadows. Still it was enough for Torrie to see elegance in the wide, beautiful circular staircase. Above her head a huge chandelier hung haphazardly. What was left of its crystal decoration reflected the small amount of light from the street.

It was beautiful.

How anyone could leave this house, she wondered.

Outside, the wind blew the leaves and branches of the trees in the front yard, and the shadows danced.

Torrie took a step back. She’d stayed long enough to fulfill the dare. Besides, she’d heard her father say often enough the place was probably rotten through. She’d break her leg if she fell through the floor. She could see the headline in the Liberty Banner now: Mayor’s Daughter Breaks Leg in Haunted Hargrove House.

Amanda Litchfield was going to owe her big time, she thought.

The moonlight reflected on something on the floor a few feet away. Was it a piece of glass from one of the several broken windows? No, it was a single crystal obviously from the chandelier above her. Her hand itched with the need to touch it, to hold it. She took a few steps forward, weary of the possibly rotted floor.

Then she had it in her hand, an elegantly carved crystal, beautiful and perfect, a prize for a scary dare like a blue ribbon for winning a race. She turned to go back out the door. It was then she heard the voice.

It was really nothing more than a moan, a painful moan.

Yet, it said her name—“Victoria…”

***

Available now: Amazon | BN | iBooks | Oyster | Inktera


***

About Allie Harrison:

Allie Harrison lives with her husband in Southern Illinois. By day, Allie works in the medical field, but when she clocks out, she hits the keyboard, crafting stories readers will love. When she isn’t enjoying fun family time, games with friends, reading, crafts, music, camping, biking, and hiking, she’s working to build fictional worlds and unforgettable characters.


Connect with Allie: Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Amazon


***

Giveaway:

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Book Spotlight & Giveaway: Idol of Glass by Jane Kindred

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Idol of Glass
Looking Glass Gods
Book 3
Jane Kindred
Genre: Dark fantasy with erotic and romantic elements/LGBTQ
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Date of Publication: October 27, 2015
ISBN: 978-161922-373-8
ASIN: B0118ZFO4W
Number of pages: 268
Word Count: 91,000
Cover Artist: Kanaxa

Book Description:

Madness didn't destroy her; atoning for it might.

Ra has ruined everything. Returning to life through “renaissance” was her first mistake. Magical excess was her second. Now she must face the consequences of her reckless conjuring. Her beloved Ahr is dead by her hand, and the comfort she’d found in gender-rebel Jak seems lost to her forever.

Ra takes solace in punishment—and in communion with her punisher, the mysterious and merciless MeerShiva. But Shiva has spun a skein of secrecy over centuries—secrets about Ra’s origins and the origins of the Meer themselves. And as the secrets begin to unravel, someone else’s magic is at work from the hidden realm. Someone with the ability to redraw the fabric of the world itself.

As the picture becomes clearer, Ra must face some harsh realities: not everything is about her, and punishment isn’t enough. She must stand before Jak and try to atone for what she’s done. But seeing Jak will reveal one more secret Ra never saw coming—and one that may mean her own undoing.

Product Warnings: Contains scenes of intense BDSM, non-binary genders, and a preponderance of kick-ass women.

Amazon | ARe | BN | BooksaMillion | iTunes | Kobo | Samhain

***

Excerpt: 

Even spattered in dried blood and pieces of the dead man’s flesh, they cut a striking pair of figures on the dunes of the falend. Jet and dark poppy, their hair hung down their backs in the colors of atrocity. Light caressed them, knowing they were more than human, rippling iridescent over their tresses like quicksilver in the presence of the divine.

As in the youth of her former life, Ra was attired in the manner of a Meeric prince, the plain kaftan of black silk muting much of the violence that covered her.

MeerShiva was less subtle, the pearl-embroidered train of her sheer citrine gown, from the same ancient era, dragging behind her, caked in mud from the heath they’d left behind. They were two livid strokes of pigment on the canvas of sun-blanched sand.

Satisfied with the decimation of the remains they’d dumped in the marsh outside the small trading post beyond Mole Downs, they had simply walked away, and continued walking until they’d left the high country altogether. Coming down out of the mound-riddled moors and across the lowland heath, they followed the Filial River toward the east, past the falls that plunged beneath the bluff at the wasteland’s edge, and into the high desert north of the Anamnesis delta, until at last even Meeric sensibility demanded rest.

The palette of the sky behind the scattered stars held the deep lack of pigment that came with the hours after midnight, and they were in the center of nothing, a vast stretch of arid land that separated mound country from the Deltan lowlands. With a few murmured words, Shiva raised a single tower around them, round and made of stone, with windowless walls that stretched up over them into immeasurable heights. Meeric conjuring was often merely out of whim, influenced by the current state of mind and body. They lay on a floor of heather, an anomalous afterthought, with barely a pause between waking and sleep.

***

About the Author:

Jane Kindred is the author of epic fantasy series The House of Arkhangel’sk, Demons of Elysium, and Looking Glass Gods. She spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.

http://www.janekindred.com

http://www.janekindred.com/blog

https://twitter.com/JaneKindred

https://www.facebook.com/janekindred

https://www.goodreads.com/janekindred

https://plus.google.com/+JaneKindred

https://www.pinterest.com/janekindred

http://janekindred.tumblr.com

https://www.youtube.com/user/meershiva/videos

***

Tour giveaway 

1 set of signed print copies of Books 1, 2, and 3 of Looking Glass Gods

1 caged pearl necklace

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Spotlight: Kellynch by Kwen D. Griffeth

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Title: Kellynch
Author: Kwen D. Griffeth
Genre: Jane Austen Fanfiction / Romance

Jane Austen completed “Persuasion” in August 1816.  It was to be her last book.  She left us with the story of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth and she left them approaching “happily ever after.”  What happens the day following “happily ever after?”

The story of Kellynch picks up three years after the couple married and were able to secure the Kellynch estate from Sir Walter and Cousin William Elliot agreed to waive the entailment.

It would seem all is well with the young couple, but all is not as it seems.

Kellynch is a story of deceit and treachery as well as courage and overcoming the odds.  It is a story in which those who were assumed to be friends are not and where support comes from unexpected places.  Love again, will, be tested in a story set against the backdrop of historical events.

Throughout the book, I have tried to remain true to the characters as Miss Austen created them.  I sought to develop and introduce new characters that would meet with her approval.  

***

Excerpt:

Sir Walter turned toward the door, but was stopped by the urgency in the Prime Minister’s voice.

“Sir Walter, please, do not leave.”

Elliot turned back.

“Sir Walter, those men you mentioned, including your son, deserve all the credit and admiration you give them, but do you realize the service and sacrifice they willing give is for you?  Yes, you live a life far removed from the challenges of the day, but your life is important and it has value beyond what you may think.  You and others like you represent the ideal, the perfect English life, if you will.  You put a face on why these men do what they do.  They know they will never be a part of your world, and truth be told, most would not enjoy the idleness of it, but they admire it just the same and they plant the seeds to spread it around the globe.”

Sir Walter responded with a closed lipped smile, “Sir, you have no need to patronize me, but I appreciate your efforts.”

The Prime Minister rewarded him with a full-toothed grin, “Patronize you?  Is that what I am doing?  Sir, do you now reside at Kellynch?”

“I do.”

“I have been informed, by my wife, that we will be visiting Kellynch next month.  Perhaps you and I will find time to continue our discussion.  On my word, sir, I have no desire to patronize.”

“Do you mind if I ask why you will visit and rest assured I welcome your company and your wife’s.”

“I am told Kellynch boasts some of the finest flower gardens in the county and my wife dearly loves the gardens.  Is it true?  Do you have the finest gardens?”

“I have been told that, though, I would not know.  I am not a bug; I have no interest in flowers and other such housing for insects.  Any time spent in a garden is wasted and better spent at the card table, in my mind.”

The Prime Minister’s eyes brightened, “You play cards, then?”

Sir Walter cocked his head, as if to indicate what a silly question, “I do.”

The Prime Minister’s eyes narrowed as if he was circling prey, “For money?”

Sir Walter was taken back and he huffed before answering, “Is there any other kind of card games?  For adults, I mean.”

The indignation was met with a laugh, “No, I do not believe there is.  I suddenly find myself much more enthused about our upcoming visit.  I look forward to seeing you across from me at the table and I hope your purse is full.”

Sir Walter grinned, “And I sir, hope you bring your coin.  Is there a particular drink you would prefer to be served to lessen the sting of losing?”

The Prime Minister laughed loud enough that several men in the vicinity stopped and looked at the couple.  “Good heavens, man, you would have me elevate myself to the truly aloof.  No, I will happily drink whatever you choose to serve as I take your money.”

Sir Walter bowed at the waist, “In a month, then.”

The Prime Minister followed, “Indeed, in a month.”

***

Author Bio

When describing my life, I think Douglas Adams said it best, “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I have ended up where I needed to be.”

Books have always been a large part of my meandering.

I grew up on a ranch in southeastern Idaho and my friends were a mixed and rowdy bunch.  Louis L’Amour told me tales of the west, but Edgar Rice Burroughs took me to the jungles of Africa.  Sir Author Conan Doyle walked with me through the fog-covered streets of London, and Jane Austen taught me to be a gentleman.

I read several other authors but I was fourteen when I met the man.  Sitting in an English class, I chose a book from a required reading list and I was introduced to Ernest Hemingway.  His book, “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” allowed Mister Hemingway, Robert Jordan, and I to fight in the Spanish Civil War and I never left Idaho.  When I closed the back cover, I knew that no matter whatever else I did, I would be a writer.  Even today, when I think back, I am still in awe of how Hemingway’s words touched the soul of an adolescent boy.

I entered the Army a year after high school and stayed in uniform for the next two decades.  The military offered me the opportunity to live my own adventures separate from the ones I lived vicariously in books.  While in uniform, I worked in a variety of fields, Infantry, Military Police, and Military Intelligence.  I worked on a psychiatric ward and later at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center.  I took trips to Mexico, Canada, and twice to Germany.  I have visited the forty-eight contiguous states and desperately want to see the other two.

Along the way, I met and kept printed friends Allister Maclean, Robert Ludlow, John Grisham, and Tom Clancy.  I had flings with several others, Joseph Wambaugh, Clive Cussler, and Stephen King.

I started to write and failed.  Repeatedly, I would start a story, only to end it and discard it as it sounded too much like the works of one of my friends.  I went through periods when I refused to read, because I was frustrated and angry with those friends.  Those friends who were what I wanted to be.

Fifteen years ago, I got sick.  I got sick and it was misdiagnosed.  I almost died, but then I met the doctor who figured out the riddle and, with his help, I started working my way back.  As I got better and my brain got stronger, stories, characters, and plots started to form.  I found my voice and I published my first book, a novella called “Dear Emma,” in February 2012.

I used to feel strange telling people, “I got better and now I hear voices,” but the statement is accurate.  I feel I am in good company as several authors have made such references.  As I said at the beginning, I am exactly where I need to be.    

Links

kwendgriffeth.wordpress.com

Book Spotlight & Giveaway: Quest of a Scottish Warrior

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Quest of a Scottish Warrior
The MacLomain Series: Later Years 
Book 1
Sky Purington
Genre:  Time-travel Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication:  September 8, 2015
ASIN:  B010EKKQUE
Number of pages:  257
Word Count:  82,800
Cover Artist:  Tamra Westberry

Book Description:

Historian and ancestry website owner, Cassie first became interested in her long lost Broun clan when she realized life was about to change forever. Faced with possible blindness, she seeks out her Scottish bloodline only to discover there is so much more to it than she could have anticipated. Not only will she find answers to her questions but a doorway into the distant past via a Claddagh ring.

Betrothed since birth to a lass he has never met, Chieftain Logan MacLomain thought the unending tie between his clan and the Brouns was long past. Never was he more wrong. When Cassie appears in a skirmish on the border of his clan’s land, all his noble intentions are put to the test. To desire her is wrong but still he seeks her out every chance he gets. Just a glimpse of her passing smile brightens the honorable yet lonely path he must see through.

Everything changes for Cassie and Logan the day war ravages a nearby village and a young king’s fate is put at risk. Scotland’s future hangs in the balance as denied love blossoms and four MacLomain warriors band together to save all that might soon be lost. Set to avenge the harm done, Logan embarks on a quest with Cassie that will take them both down a road fraught with risk, heartache and the beginning of an end they never saw coming.

Amazon | iTunes | Kobo | BN

***

Excerpt:

Cassie nodded and as they’d done the past couple of nights, they settled into comfortable conversation. She was a pleasure to chat with. Though humble, she possessed a sharp wit. He suspected had she pursued any of her college majors, she would have excelled.

Yet the more he got to know her the more he sensed she lived her life a certain way…as if she knew its outcome already. Almost like someone planning to move to another country and preparing themselves for a different language and customs. Eventually, he intended to find out exactly what she was getting ready for. Whatever it was, it had her purposely changing subjects on a somewhat regular basis.

As he figured she would, Cassie eventually said, “Why are we eating separately from everyone tonight?”

Though tempted to say it was unintentional, he would be lying. The truth was he wanted her all to himself. “‘Twas a trying experience earlier. I thought you might want some privacy to relax.”

She arched her brow and offered a lopsided grin. “Yet you’re here.”

“Well, you cannae be alone in these woods, lass.” He polished off his meat and leaned back on his hands so that his shoulder was almost against hers. Voice lowered, he said, “And I’ll admit to wanting to spend some time alone with you. ‘Tis a luxury I rarely get.”

 “Ah.” This time he didn’t have to touch her to enjoy her becoming blush. His eyes dropped to her mouth when she licked her lips. He had never wanted to taste a lass so much in his life. When she cleared her throat, his eyes slowly returned to hers.

“You should probably stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like we’re here alone for another reason altogether.”

“Aye,” he murmured, caught by how the firelight reflecting off the shrubbery behind her seemed to magnify the pale green in her eyes. Unable to stop himself, he brushed his thumb down her delicate jawline, eager for far more contact. “May I kiss you, lass.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “W-what?”

“Kiss you.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip and leaned even closer. “I’ve wanted to do it since I pulled you onto my horse that first day.”

“Oh,” she whispered, not shying away.

Wrapping his hand in her hair, he didn’t kiss her right away but brought his lips close to her ear and murmured, “I’ve never seen such a bonnie lass.” He flicked his tongue beneath her dainty earlobe, relishing her quiver. “I’ve never wanted to touch and taste a lass so much that I cannae think straight.”

“Oh,” she whispered again, her head tilting to give him more access. God, she tasted warm and sweet and so bloody soft. He gently peppered kisses along her jaw, desperate to reach her lips but equally eager to sample everything along the way. Sharp arousal speared him when her breath hitched and she squeezed her thighs together. Hell, he had known the lass less than a week and he’d already imagined a hundred different ways he wanted to make love to her.

At last, his lips hovered over hers, savoring the heat of her breath, the ravenous anticipation before he finally…

“Och, m’laird, ye should have gotten to that sooner,” Machara quipped as she came around the corner.

Cassie pulled back sharply and Logan scowled as he redirected his attention to his intrusive cousin. “What is it?”

***

About the Author: 

Sky Purington is the best-selling author of seventeen novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.

Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com. Interested in keeping up with Sky's latest news and releases? Visit Sky's website, http://www.skypurington.com to download her free App on iTunes and Android or sign up for her quarterly newsletter. Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.

Website:   www.skypurington.com

Blog:   www.skypurington.blogspot.com

Twitter:   www.twitter.com/skypurington

Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sky-Purington/260484263999780

Pinterest:   www.pinterest.com/skypurington

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Tour giveaway 

1$50 gift card to winner’s choice of Amazon or Barnes & Noble

a Rafflecopter giveaway