Tour: Healing Eden by Rhenna Morgan

Healing Eden Banner 851 x 315 healing eden coverHealing Eden
The Eden Series
Book Two
Rhenna Morgan

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy/Paranormal

Publisher: Kensington/Lyrical Press

Date of Publication: 12/8/2015

ISBN: Ebook 978-1-61650-989-7 /
ISBN: Print 978-1-61650-990-3
ASIN: B00URQETZE

Number of pages: 233
Word Count: 88,373

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Book Description:

In a world divided by war, falling in love is the ultimate betrayal.

Galena Shantos has never questioned her loyalty to Eden. As sister to the Myren king, she serves as a healer, one of the best in the army fighting to suppress the brutal Lomos Rebellion. She’s never doubted the importance of stopping the rebels bent on enslaving humans, until she spots a warrior across enemy lines—and knows instinctively that their destinies are entwined. . .

Rebellion warrior Reese Theron has nothing left to lose. He’s been forced to fight on the wrong side of a war he abhors in order to protect his family secret. His honor lost, as well as the trust of his own people, Reese has thrown himself into a battle he cannot possibly hope to survive. But after being rescued by a beautiful woman whose exquisite eyes seem to see him for more than the traitor he’s become—he may have just found a new reason to live. . .

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Excerpt:

Chapter 1

A lightning bolt sheared past Reese into the smoke-filled night sky and left an acrid stench in its wake. Streaks of fire and blue-white fingers of electricity flared so bright he could barely focus. He wasn’t getting out of this. Not this battle, or this life, with any modicum of honor.

Darting through the air, he dodged another electrical strike.

An elite flashed into view and swung wide, his bloodied dagger aimed at Reese’s gut.

Reese barrel-rolled up and over his attacker, wrapped him in a chokehold, and masked their presence from the rest of the fighters. Praise the Great One, he should be fighting beside this warrior, not against him.

The warrior flailed and tried to break free, the lack of footing giving him zero leverage. He slumped, unconscious, into Reese’s ready hold seconds later.

He lowered them both to the tree line at the battle’s edge, out of site from the rebels. The man couldn’t be more than twenty years outside his awakening. Probably barely into his elite torc and cuffs. Beneath Reese’s fingers, the man’s pulse thrummed slow, but steady. At least this innocent’s death wouldn’t be on his conscience.

A twenty-five-foot wall of flame exploded across the open field and rattled the air and earth around them. The bright flare faded under heavy night, and more rebellion warriors thunked to the mottled field.

The sharp rustle of leaves against the forest floor sounded down the tree line, one quick shift and then silence.

Reese backed deeper into the foliage and strengthened the mask that kept him hidden. It couldn’t be a rebellion man. All those were engaged against the malran’s warriors. Focusing his thoughts, he sought the soulless black thread that represented the link he’d grudgingly created with Maxis Steysis, and traced his location.

No, not the rebellion leader either. His energy showed more than ten miles to the east, well away from the fight. Reese levitated off the forest floor and floated through the trees. Gnarled and leafless branches scraped his cheek and shoulders.

Darkness enveloped him, broken only by the bright attacks where the forest opened to the battle beyond.

There. Not five feet from the tree line, a figure knelt facing the battle.

He drifted closer. The sweet, damp scent of soil and decomposing leaves overpowered the metallic residue of electrical strikes floating on the wind. Grunts, shouts, and the too-frequent thuds of perished men sounded in a haphazard pattern.

A flash spotlighted long, auburn hair. A woman. Bowed over a body, she cradled a fallen companion’s head in her lap.

Reese angled to better see her and nearly faltered in holding his mask. His heart kicked in an awkward rhythm and reality faded to nothingness. Galena Shantos, sister to the malran. The last person he wanted to witness his disgrace.

Seventy years since he’d seen her this close. Her elegant features were still as staggering as the days when he’d trained to serve the malran, but there was more to her now. A confidence in the way she protected her charge and watched the battle.

Knowledge behind her tropical blue-green eyes that spoke of experience and age.

And he fought alongside the men who battled her brother.

Galena flinched at another blast and hugged the limp body she cradled tight. As the light dimmed, she uncurled from her burden.

Another woman, her long blond hair stark against Galena’s black tunic and leggings, and her sightless eyes aimed at the heavens.

No. Surely not. Reese crept closer, pressure building at his temples. The zings and thunder of battle rumbled louder, and his gut clenched.

Phybe. She’d been alive when Reese left her, tucked away in a zeolite mine where Maxis couldn’t trace her link. He touched down in the thick carpet of leaves at Galena’s right and dropped his mask. “I failed her.”

Galena jerked and reached for something beneath one leg. “Who are you?”

Smudges marked Phybe’s ashen face, her blue gown torn and satin slippers stained. Somehow Maxis had found her and finished the job he’d sent Reese to do. “He’ll kill me for trying to save her.”

More strikes burst through the thick residual smoke, the malran’s fighters airborne and casting one attack after another. Fewer than twenty rebellion men still lived, half retreating north.

“A cause that fights without honor isn’t worth fighting, is it?” he said.

Galena straightened and squared her shoulders. “I’d have a hard time counting on honor from any man who fights with Maxis.”

“You’re right. I gave that up the moment I agreed to his schemes.” He crouched beside them.

Galena tensed and tightened her grip on whatever she hid beneath her leg.

Reese palmed Phybe’s forehead, cool and lifeless. May your journey be swift and your spirit find peace with The Great One. The same Myren prayer he’d offered his mother when she’d drawn her last breath. He stepped back. Maybe it was time to find his own peace. On his own terms. “You don’t remember me do you?”

She shook her head. A terse, barely-there jerk as she eased from beneath her dead charge, crouched on the balls of her feet and coiled for escape.

“My name is Reese Theron.”

She froze, flashes of light from the battle winking off the edge of her blade. She assessed him head to toe, no spark of recognition.

Maybe if he’d been braver all those years ago, he’d have had a chance with her. Or broken his vow and killed Maxis himself when he’d had the chance. He shook the memories off. He’d taken the wrong path and now it was time to pay. “Call your guards. Make sure they know you’re in danger.”

A gunshot rattled the skies and a woman’s blood-curdling scream sounded across the battlefield.

Galena lurched to a stand and then stopped, zigzagging her attention between the shouts along the battlefield and Phybe’s body.

Now was his chance. Either he took the brave farewell, or he’d die by Maxis’ hands. “Your face is a good one to remember. Go with The Great One, Galena.” He shot to the sky and built a violent ball of energy in his palm, sharp tendrils darting from its center. Drawing back, he aimed the bogus attack at Galena. Surely The Great One would understand.

An elite guard spun from across the skies and drew back for counter- attack.

Reese braced for impact.

A streak of auburn flashed below him. Galena, spearing through the air, her trajectory centered between the elite and Reese.

The energy in his palm fizzled. Not her. Not Galena.

Lightning fired from the elite’s palm, sheered past Galena’s cheek, and pierced his shoulder. He jerked and spasmed, locked in place by the force of the strike. Blue-black spots dotted his vision and his lungs seized.

A woman’s scream ripped through the air.

Wind whipped around him, dead weight as he fell, and darkness took over.

* * * *

Galena twisted midair and shot toward Reese, wind blurring her eyesight.

His arms and legs flailed boneless as he hurtled to the earth.

She’d never make it before impact. Even if he survived the fall, Jagger’s strike had been a killing shot, off by inches at most.

Reese crashed against the unforgiving ground, his head and limbs thunking against the trampled turf.

She landed seconds behind him. The sticky iron scent of blood, dirt, and sweat surrounded her. So many men strewn across the grass, their bodies contorted in unnatural shapes.

Less than ten feet away one of her brother’s men struggled for breath, unconscious with a trail of blood at his temple. A loyal fighter who’d battled against an indecent and cruel rebellion.

But it was Reese her palms burned to touch. To feel the beat of his heart. She dropped to her knees and rolled Reese to his back, muscles surging with wells of strength she’d never felt.

His pulse fluttered beneath her fingertips, faint and irregular.

A thud sounded behind her. Her name registered, a voice she recognized.

She ignored the call. Shedding her mortal form, she dove into Reese’s unconscious body and let her spirit spread and assess. Gaping, charred flesh at least two fists wide, muscle and sinew around it lifeless from the electrical shock. She followed the damage, too much impairment radiating dangerously close to his heart. She couldn’t lose him. Traitor or not, her instincts didn’t care. Only knew this moment would shape the rest of her life in a way she didn’t dare ignore.

Shouts rang out beside her. Short, brusque words delivered with a frustrated bite. Footsteps shuffled around her and the injured moaned. Detached in spirit but still connected to her physical senses, the muffled distractions rattled as she healed.

Five inches. That was the gift of her intervention. Had she not flown in the path of Jagger’s bolt, he’d have pierced Reese’s heart. Blood seeped from the violent gash and his heart trembled with the aftershocks of the delivering jolt.

Swift and sure, she spread her spirit, cauterizing and mending the most critical lesions. A touch here. A brush there.

Near his heart, a fine opaque mist appeared.

Her spirit vision faltered. The odd substance settled into every nook and cranny. It shimmered and sparkled, a mix between morning dew and midnight fog. Seventy years she’d been healing men and not once had she seen anything like it.

“Damn it, Lena, we need you.” The admonition rang in her ear and a firm hand clamped on her shoulder.

Galena ripped her spirit from Reese’s body and spun in a levitated twist to a defensive crouch, hands lifted to protect herself. Her vision wavered.

Ramsay came into focus, the whites around his gray eyes glowing in a way that promised dire loss of control and a vicious scowl aimed squarely at her. “What in histus is wrong with you?”

Her knees nearly buckled. Maybe she’d put too much into her healing. “He’s wounded.”

“He’s a traitor. To me and to Eryx.” Glaring at her, he swept his arm behind him. “What about them?”

There were dozens of them. Good men, battered, bloody, and fatigued. Most were upright and lumbering across the battlefield, checking for rebellion survivors. Six were laid out for triage close to Maxis’ estate, Eryx and Ludan seeing to their care.

Her cheeks burned and her stomach pitched. There wasn’t any logic to defend her actions. She’d acted on pure emotion and instinct, and put the lives of loyal men at risk, but she still wouldn’t change what she’d done. Not a second. A truth she wasn’t altogether sure how to process.

“Focus on the ones worthy of your gift. Not someone—”

“Enough.” She straightened and met her brother’s scowl. Every muscle shook with fatigue. “I watched an innocent woman die tonight. Held her in my arms while she screamed.”

“Trust me.” Ramsay glowered at the unconscious man behind her. “He’s not innocent.”

For years she’d trusted her brothers. Loved and followed them with unwavering loyalty wherever they asked her to go. Until this moment. She inched forward on trembling legs, hands fisted at her sides. “Innocent or not, I saw goodness in him. Watched him say a prayer over Phybe’s body and felt his grief. Healing is my gift to use when and how The Great One guides me. Not to be commandeered and directed by a man swept up in the heat of battle. Life is life, no matter whose heart feeds it.”

Ramsay sneered. “Even Maxis Steysis?”

Nearly six hundred years their families had been at war, since their grandfather left Maxis’ grandmother pregnant at the altar in favor of a commoner.

“Everyone has a shred of goodness in them.” Well, maybe not Maxis. But she’d be damned if she let Ramsay question her judgment. There was a reason she was drawn to Reese. She just needed a little time to figure out why. “If you’d stop and think for a minute you’d know saving him is a smart move. If he fought with Maxis, he knows things. Things you won’t be able to learn anywhere else.”

Reese’s chest rose and fell, slow and steady. With a push from her senses, she registered the faint but solid rhythm of his heart. More than anything she ached to kneel beside him. To finish the job she’d begun and skim her fingers through his wild hair. Perhaps link her fingers with his long, tapered ones and rest alongside him while she waited for him to wake.

Praise The Great One, what was wrong with her? This protectiveness didn’t make sense.

Eryx’s best friend and somo, Ludan, shouted from the furthest edge of battle. “Ramsay.”

Galena knew that tone. Had heard it after too many battles. Another warrior in need of care. With a last glance at Reese to placate herself, she headed in Ludan’s direction. “I’ve got it.”

Three steps in she stopped and glared at Ramsay. “You may not care for him. May see him as the vilest of men. But do not disrespect my gift by hurting him.”

She left her frowning brother behind, and prayed the promise of a traitor’s information would stay Ramsay’s hand until she returned.


rhenna morganAbout the Author:

Rhenna Morgan writes for the same reason she reads—to escape reality.

Yes, her life rocks—two beautiful little girls, a great husband, a steady job, and the kind of friends that would take you out back if you hurt her. But, like most women, she’s got obligations stacked tight from dusk to dawn. So, when the world gets her down, she slips into something…less realistic.

Romance is a must. So is a steamy romp (or four). Nothing thrills her more than the fantasy of new, exciting worlds, strong, intuitive men, and the sigh of, “Oh if only that could happen to me.”

So, if you’re picking up one of her books, expect portals into alternate realms and men who’ll fight to keep the women they want. Romantic escape for the women who need it.

http://rhennamorgan.com

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https://twitter.com/rhennamorgan (@RhennaMorgan)

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Tour: Searing Ecstasy by Setta Jay

Setta Jay’s Guardians of the Realms series returns with the long-awaited and much-anticipated story of Drake in Searing Ecstasy!

Searing Ecstasy

(Guardians of the Realms #7)

by Setta Jay

Publication: October 7th 2015

Drake, the powerful dragon and leader of the Guardians, has spent his long life protecting all inhabitants of the four Realms, but fails to save the one who matters most. His mate. In the month since finding her feral, he’s been slowly losing control of his beast and soon he fears the dragon will reign free unleashing it’s fury upon the Realms.

Delia has changed. No longer a carefree young woman, she is now a nightmare in the making. After her abduction and torture she unwillingly houses two beasts and more power than she can ever contain on her own. She can never be released. Nor can she have the male who gives her any semblance of sanity in her new world, the one she craves more than her own freedom.

With unknown enemies on the horizon and yet another God awakened will they lose themselves in the madness of an impossible mating? Or will they come together in searing ecstasy, bonding them in a way that sets them both free?

Warning: Sexually explicit content (beds actually get burned down, people) and alpha males and females with bad language.


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Tour: Fall of Heroes by Jennifer Harlow

Fall of Heroes Banner 851 x 315 fall of heroes cover

Fall of Heroes
The Galilee Falls Trilogy
Book Three
Jennifer Harlow

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Publisher: Devil on the Left Books
Date of Publication: 10/31/15

ISBN: 9780989394482
ASIN: B015L4D9IE

Number of pages: 253
Word Count: 100,000

Book Description:

“Show me a hero; and I’ll write you a tragedy.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Hero and Villain.

Good and Evil.

Love and Hate.

Would that the world were that simple. Nothing is ever simple in a world filled with superheroes and villains. She may not wear a cape or have superpowers, but no one would say Joanna Fallon isn’t a hero. At great personal cost she’s saved the city of Galilee Falls from two supervillains, but has finally found a measure of peace. But whatever rises often falls, and even the city’s champion may not be able to fight the cataclysm about to befall not only her city but the whole of the world…or even want to.

Read the conclusion to the critically acclaimed Galilee Falls trilogy from the imagination of the IPPY award winning author Jennifer Harlow.

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Excerpt: Chapter One-Wedding Bell Blues

 

I swear to fucking Christ, if he’s late for this wedding, a supervillain won’t kill him, I will.

If your boyfriend is the premier superhero in the city with the highest concentration of the super-powered in the country, you get used to situations like this. Dinners where you find yourself sitting alone in a restaurant, cancelled vacations, missing birthdays. I’ve endured them with a smile and forgiveness, but not today. I’ve stressed to him a thousand times how important this day is to me. Just this morning, before my hair appointment, I told him three times. But no, when I got home to put on my dress, he was nowhere to be found. I had to start up the comms on Doris Jr. to track him down. Sure enough he was out in the field fighting Hexen and more of the villains damn zombies at a war reenactment. Still, he swore he’d be here on time. Trust me, he said. Damn superheroes. Guess it’s partially my fault for falling in love with one. Again. I should have learned the first time around. Damn you for being so amazingly brilliant, Jem Ambrose. Damn you.

“What are you still doing out here?” my old partner Cam, Detective Terrence Cameron to you, says behind me. I spin around just as he reaches me on the bottom of the church steps. He looks damn fine today, the white shirt off-setting his dark skin, and he’s even sporting the paisley blue silk tie I bought him two Christmases ago. “You should get inside. It’s freezing.”

“I’m not going inside without him.”

“You catching pneumonia won’t make him show up any sooner,” Cam points out.

“If he shows up at all,” I mutter. “Fucking Hexen.”

“He’ll be here,” Cam insists.

Two stragglers hustle toward us from the overflowing parking lot. I recognize the man, former plainclothes now Detective Conover, who worked the Alkaline case with me. He and his date both smile and nod as they pass us up the church steps.

“Seriously, Jo, come on. The ceremony’s supposed to start soon. And—”

“I can’t go in there without him, okay? This shit’s awkward enough for me already. Just…I’ll give him a few more minutes then I’ll come in. These things never start on time anyway.”

“Fine. I’ll just tell everyone…I’ll figure something out.” I nod at my friend who nods back before returning inside the warm church.

Dead. Jem is so fucking dead. And I get he’s saving people’s lives, I do. Most of the time I’m on the comms in our apartment, guiding him, literally watching his back on the surveillance feed. Hell, I’m the one who suggested he become the new Captain Moonlight. I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

It’s not as if we had tons of free time on our hands before. I had to cancel my fair share of dinners too. Being the figurehead of an international billion dollar empire with the board meetings, charity events, and general boring day-to-day business bullshit leaves little time to sleep let alone spend quality time with the man I love. Add to that Jem’s day job at the hospital, his research for his new virus project, and the city constantly being in peril from asshole villains, we’re lucky to spend a few hours a week face to face just being a damn couple. At least we make those few precious hours count. And we do work damn well together. Just last week we stopped an eco-terrorist cell from releasing a toxin in the meat packing district that would poison anyone who consumed the meat. If this were any other day I’d be on Doris Jr. helping him bring down Hexen, but this isn’t any other day. He needs to be here. He has to be here. He will be here. He will. Unless of course he’s…no.

God, why does my mind always go there? I have personally seen him survive multiple gunshots, being impaled by a rod, being beaten to a pulp, and an explosion. He has super-healing, super-intelligence, has a black belt in Judo and Karate, knows Krav Maga, not to mention the suit I commissioned for him is bullet, knife, and flame resistant. But every time I lose contact or he’s a minute late, that is my first damn thought.

I should be used to this by now. I knew what he was before I fell in love with him. Hell, I had a front row seat to that side of his life. I ended up in the hospital twice because of it, well three times if you count the plastic surgery needed to fix the scar on my face left by his brother. Not to mention the horrible minute when I thought he’d died that day. I lost my soul mate, my best friend to a supervillain, I couldn’t handle another man I loved dying for me.

We should have learned our lesson then. Jem killed Lord Nightingale right along with his psycho twin brother, and that should have been it. No more capes and cowls. No more kidnappings, attempted murders, and torture for either of us. Yeah, that lasted all of three months. The crime rate skyrocketed again, there was a supervillain attack every week, and despite his assurances he was content fighting crime behind our supercomputer Doris, I knew he was lying. It was in the way he’d stay glued to the computer and news. The way he’d stare out the window down at the city when he couldn’t sleep. How he spent more and more time in his dojo beating up the punching bag and dummy. He couldn’t help it. He’d fought the good fight for almost a decade. Before me, it was all he had. It was what got him out of bed. Something else we had in common. He couldn’t deny that part of himself, it was literally in his blood, and I know the longer he repressed that for me, the more he’d resent me down the road. So one night I shoved his new black and yellow costume at him, and told him I wanted him back before dawn. That was three months ago. Crime’s gone down twenty-two percent, two new villains are now rotting in Xavier Maximum Security Prison, they’ve just released the new Captain Moonlight action figure, and I’m freezing my ass off worrying about the man I love. Doing the right thing sucks balls.

Shit. He’s not coming. He’s not. I’m going to have to go in there and face all those people alone. All their whispering, their looks, their stares. How am I going to explain his absence? Fuck. Damn it. I need to get in there. Me being out here just looks worse. With a sigh, I start up the steps. Jem Ambrose you are—

“Joanna!”

Here. Thank Christ. Never had a doubt.

jennifer harlowAbout the Author:

Jennifer Harlow spent her restless childhood fighting with her three brothers and scaring the heck out of herself with horror movies and books. She grew up to earn a degree at the University of Virginia which she put to use as a radio DJ, crisis hotline volunteer, bookseller, lab assistant, wedding coordinator, and government investigator. Currently she calls Northern Virginia home but that restless itch is ever present. In her free time, she continues to scare the beejepers out of herself watching scary movies and opening her credit card bills. She is the author of the Amazon best-selling F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad, Midnight Magic Mystery series, The Galilee Falls Trilogy, and the steampunk romance Verity Hart Vs The Vampyres.

For the soundtrack to her books and other goodies visit her at www.jenniferharlowbooks.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/jenharlowbooks

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jennifer.harlow.52

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4708453.Jennifer_Harlow

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jenharlowbooks/


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1 $25 Amazon or Barnes & Noble Giftcard
2 E-book Copies of Justice
2 E-Book Copies of Galilee Rising
2 E-Book Copies of Fall of Heroes
Jennifer Harlow name a character after you in her next release, The Sin Eater

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Tour: Dark Submissions by Laurel Cremant

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coverDark Submissions
Laurel Cremant

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Dark Fantasy Romance

Publisher: Winged Moon Publishing

Date of Publication: October 31st 2015

ISBN: 0991635728

Number of pages: 110
Word Count: 25,000

Cover Artist: Taria Reed Digital Artist

Book Description:

Love doesn’t exist only in the light. Travel to the Underworld and get lost in the dark with three erotic tales of sensuality, lust, and the quest to find love…

Death’s Hope

The dating scene in Hell is rough for a woman who embodies the essence of pure hope, but Dora is trusting that death demon, Alphonse, won’t mind introducing her to a little sin. Her plan to convince Alphonse she’s no innocent demon-in-training, takes a wicked turn, when Alphonse decides to show her exactly how decadent his needs are.

Guilt’s Pleasure

Vengeance demon, Morgan, is looking for a little relief from a guilty conscious, and fire demon, Dax, has just the remedy for her within the walls of his dungeon. A simple bargain for relief turns sensual, when Dax realizes Morgan needs more from him than a steady hand and a long whip.

War’s Peace

Being a war demon isn’t all fun and chaos. The existing peace demon has decided to retire and Hell’s rules dictate that there can be no war without peace. Not willing to give up any of her war games, wrath demon Alyssa is determined to make recently slain warrior, Elrich, her new partner in crime by any means necessary.

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About the Author:

Laurel is a romance author, who like most writers loves to read. Her first love (pun intended) has always been romance. From the sappy YA romance novel to the more risqué erotica novels, Laurel is a sucker for a good love story.

Laurel writes paranormal and contemporary romance and is a self-proclaimed, out of the closet nerd. She admits that she can’t seem to avoid adding a bit of “nerdology” or “geek-dom” to all of her books. Living in Miami, she also admits that she can’t seem to avoid giving her heroines gorgeous shoes, “In Miami, we worship everything strappy, open toed and just plain hot!”

Website: www.LaurelCremant.com

Blog: www.laurelcremant.com/blog

Twitter: @LaurelCremant

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LaurelCremantAuthor

Instagram: @laurelcremant

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/laurelcremant/

Google +: www.google.com/+LaurelCremant

YouTube: www.youtube.com/c/LaurelCremant

Newsletter Sign Up http://laurelcremant.com/newsletter/


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Tour: Heaven Sent by Avelyn Paige


Bloody…broken…barely surviving…



Danae “Dani” Espinoza is on the run and desperate to escape the demons of her past. Plans to hide out in a sleepy Los Angeles suburb turn into a pipe dream as she is drawn into the secret filled world of the local motorcycle club. Dani soon learns that her secrets and lies are nothing compared to those kept behind the clubhouse doors. Trying to avoid the suspicious Vice President, she must keep a low profile in order to survive. The trouble is he has other ideas. 

Bike…babes…and booze…
 

Tyler “Hero” Tobias has simple needs. Being the Heaven’s Rejects MC Vice President, he has all three at his disposal. But he has his own ghosts that keep him awake at night. When Dani arrives at the clubhouse, he knows he should stay away but there is something about her dark beauty and the mystery that surrounds her that makes him burn. There are secrets in her eyes and lies in her smile and he knows he should put his club first, but Hero’s heart and loyalty are about to be tested. 


Can an angel with blood-covered wings and the devil himself resist temptation or will they risk bringing hellfire down on everything that they love?


Cold.

All I can feel is a deep chill blanketing my body. My eyes open to complete darkness as a
voice calls to me. Its muffled tones send shivers down my spine with every garbled word. A sense of familiarity floats around me as its words become clearer. “Run, Dani,” it pleas from beyond the black veil shrouding the room. “Escape while you can,” it continues. Panic courses through my veins. Where in the hell am I? Why can’t I see anything? The pleas go unanswered as my voice fails to render sound.
 
“Help!” I scream internally, “Please, fucking help me!”
 
The voice’s call fades with each word. “You need to get the hell out of here, Dani. You need to move. Find a wall and escape,” I coach to myself. A cold chill of air sweeps into the darkness encompassing me as I try to feel the place around me. My fingers plunge into a dense, sticky liquid as I crawl forward causing my body to slide with each movement. A hard surface is finally inching its way under my fingers.
 
Crawling upwards, I splay my hands against the cool wall. “You’re on your feet, Dani. The hardest part is over now. Time to find a door or a light switch, something to get us out of here,” my internal coach continues.
 
Keeping close to the wall, I finally find a switch. Flicking it upwards, the light shines brilliantly. As my eyes adjust to the light, my hands come into my vision. A scream barrels out of my throat when I see the sticky, red blood covering my hands and clothes. My heart races as I frantically wipe the blood away. Blood begins to pool at my feet, inching toward me. Rushing away from the blood, I fall backward into a solid, but warm obstacle. Before I can turn around, hands grasp my arms as a person’s hot breath trails down my neck.
 
“Hello, Dani,” a different voice whispers in my ear. “Welcome to Hell. You’re mine now,” the voice crackles as my body is pulled into black oblivion. 

Avelyn Paige is a born and raised Indiana girl. She may be a Hoosier by birth, but she’s a Boilermaker by choice! Avelyn lives in rural Indiana with her pastor husband, 2 spoiled cats, and one very odd looking dog. She’s an oncology research scientist by day and a writer and book review blogger by night. She enjoys reading anything she can get her hands, baking, and spending time with her friends and family. 



Never intending to ever write her own book, the idea behind the Damaged series came to her on a drive to work early one morning thinking about her father who’d recently passed away. His strength during his cancer and rare blood disease battle inspired Avelyn to do something she’s never thought about before. She’s excited to see where this wild ride takes her. 

 
 
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Tour: The Tomorrow Heist by Jack Soren

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Eonly_9780062365200_CoverThe Tomorrow Heist
Monarch
Book Two
Jack Soren

Genre: Fiction/Thrillers/Technological

Publisher: HarperCollins/Witness Impulse
Date of Publication: 11/3/2015

ISBN: 9780062365200

Book Description:

Readers looking for twisting, fast-paced suspense will be swept away by Jack Soren’s newest tale of thrilling international adventure…

Jonathan Hall and Lew Katchbrow intended to leave life as international art thieves behind them-if only the money hadn’t run out. But when a shadowy organization approaches the duo offering compensation, protection, and prestige in exchange for their skills, Jonathan and Lew think it’s the answer to their problems…

But the nightmare has only just begun.

Suddenly Jonathan and Lew are thrust headlong into a race against time and a technology that science says shouldn’t exist. With the very nature of life and death on Earth hanging in the balance, it’s up to Jonathan and Lew to discover the truth behind Ashita—a terrifying futuristic city in the depths of the Pacific Ocean—and stop it. But the clock is ticking. If Jonathan and Lew fail this heist, millions will die—and the human race will never be the same.

Harper Collins     Amazon

Chapter One

London

Thursday

12:15 p.m. Local Time

Jonathan Hall hadn’t been home in almost two years. Not that he hadn’t had a place to live during that time. As a matter of fact, Jonathan had lived in some extravagantly opulent locales—a penthouse in New York, a yacht on the Aegean Sea anchored off Mykonos Island, even an abandoned palace in Thailand. But none of those were home. The last home he’d known was a tiny, run-down house in Tallahassee, Florida. But it hadn’t been the building that had made it home. It had been the company.

Now, as he sat in a cafe in London, watching the crowds pass by outside in the midday September sunshine, oblivious to the magnificence of The Thames and London Bridge, Jonathan thought of his daughter, Natalie. Not that his thoughts were ever far from her. He hadn’t seen her in person in almost a year. And the year before that he’d only managed to see her a few fleeting times. These were important years for her and he was missing them. The same way he’d missed the first five years of her life. He hadn’t even known Natalie existed back then, but it still bothered him.

He wished Natalie’s mother was still alive. That’s what a 13-year-old girl needed, a woman to explain all those things she was feeling and experiencing as she became a teenager. Not a father who, when he was around, put her life in danger. A father who had no idea what he was doing. A father who had been an art thief for the past twenty years.

Jonathan squeezed a napkin to ease his tension as the waiter drifted by. He ordered another chai tea. The waiter nodded and took the old cup away. It was Jonathan’s second.

He checked his watch. Their contact was over half an hour late. But he wasn’t giving up just yet; Fahd was skittish as hell and in all likelihood was pacing back and forth up the street trying to decide what to do. In the end, Jonathan knew he’d show. It wasn’t hubris speaking, it was pragmatism. Fahd needed the money that was weighing down Jonathan’s black leather jacket, making it hang on the back of his chair at an odd angle.

Jonathan had found Fahd the same way he found all their jobs these days: through the Dark Web. Using a special web browser that protected his identity, Jonathan could access web sites and discussion forums where normal search engines couldn’t go, with no fear of being tracked. He still had to vet his contacts carefully before actually meeting them—law enforcement agencies around the world were well aware of the Dark Web, and stings were becoming more and more common—but after all these years, Jonathan had become quite skilled at knowing who was and wasn’t on the level.

As the waiter brought his beverage, Jonathan took the opportunity to scan the room again. He avoided direct eye contact—especially with the hulking man sitting by the window, hunched over a plate of pastries and a giant, ridiculously sweet coffee, his long duster coat hanging over the back of his stool. The man was Lew Katchbrow, Jonathan’s long-time partner and about the only person in the world he trusted. Jonathan nodded thanks as the waiter left again, confident that the scattering of patrons were oblivious to him.

He sipped his tea as his thoughts drifted back to Natalie. She’d just started high school last week and he hated that he couldn’t be there. But it was for her own good. Because of him, her life had been in jeopardy twice in the past two years. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. No matter how difficult it was.

The first year Natalie was away at boarding school in British Columbia, Jonathan had tried to stay away, but he’d given in to his emotions and slowly started visiting her every few months. Then it became every few weeks. She’d been mad at him for sending her away at first, but she soon came around.

Then the unthinkable had happened. They’d found her. He didn’t have any proof, but he was sure it was because of his visits. Canton George, an industrialist with a score to settle, had sent men to take her and to find Jonathan and Lew any way they could. It was only by sheer dumb luck that Lew had been with Jonathan on that visit to her campus when Canton George and his men came. Several tense hours later, George was blind in one eye, his men were dead and Natalie had been forced to once again abandon her life. Sadly, George had managed to get away.

A new identity and a few months later, Natalie was enrolled in another boarding school. This one in Switzerland. And that was the last time Jonathan had seen his daughter in person. Even their encrypted Skype calls had started to make him nervous. As painful as it was, he’d stopped taking her calls, and instead paid the school’s head master to keep Jonathan updated on his daughter’s activities through a series of back channels, again on the Dark Web.

The bell over the café door rang, shaking Jonathan from his memories. It was Fahd, his contact, a guard at a local museum. Jonathan waited for a small crowd of patrons to finish leaving before he motioned to Fahd. The caramel-skinned, slight, black-haired man nodded and moved towards the table, furtively scanning the room as he approached. As he did, Jonathan’s phone, resting on the table, buzzed. He looked down and saw Natalie’s picture displayed on the screen.

He swore under his breath and swiped the Reject button as Fahd sat down. The waiter drifted over and asked Fahd for his order, but Fahd, who kept wiping sweat from his brow with a napkin, tried to just wave him off. Jonathan smiled, apologized for his “friend” and ordered an espresso for him. Though as the waiter left, Jonathan thought more stimulation was the last thing this guy needed.

“You’re late,” Jonathan said flatly.

“I almost didn’t come,” Fahd said in a British accent that said he’d been schooled well despite his position at the museum. Jonathan knew the story behind that, though not from Fahd, himself. Fahd had been expelled from school after only two years for running an illegal poker game out of his dorm. A position as a guard at a local museum was the best he could do with that track record. It was one of the reasons Jonathan had decided to deal with him in the first place. He was motivated by money even more than most people.

The job was a small one, as far as their jobs went—a stolen set of rare books. But lately that seemed to be the rule of the day. Not that there weren’t bigger opportunities out there, but Jonathan had become selective, taking lower profile jobs, which of course meant lower pay. But if they could stay off the radar of their usual vindictive billionaire targets, maybe it would be safe to reconnect with Natalie. Still, their resources were starting to feel the pinch, and Lew was starting to notice the pattern.

Sometimes Jonathan wondered what it would be like to sell the works he and Lew stole instead of settling for the finder’s fee from the original owner or museum. Even though what they did had never been about the money.

Jonathan took the envelope from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table. Fahd, his nervousness gone at the sight of the fat envelope, reached out and tried to take the money, but Jonathan kept his hand on it.

“The name,” Jonathan said when Fahd looked up at him, confused.

“Oh, right,” Fahd said, licking his lips and appearing to weigh responding against letting go of the envelope. “Jacobson. Peter Jacobson.” Jonathan hesitated for a moment but then took his hand away. Fahd yanked the envelope off the table and held it in his lap under the table, peeking inside.

“The address?” Jonathan asked.

Fahd told him the address, practically giggling as he pocketed the envelope. The name and address were new information for Jonathan, but he’d already met briefly with Fahd and knew Peter Jacobson was another guard at the museum. One with even less scruples than Fahd.

“Nice doing bus–“

“Sit down,” Jonathan said, his tone slamming Fahd’s already rising butt back down on the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Why’d Jacobson tell you he has the books? You’re obviously not friends.”

“I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t really have any friends that I’ve seen. He’s, well…” Fahd seemed to be looking for the right words.

“He’s what?”

“Well, he’s weird. Has conversations with himself. Only wears half his uniform sometimes. He’ll sit down across from you on break, stare at you and never say a word.”

This Jonathan didn’t like. It made his ultimate target unpredictable. And that meant dangerous. He also figured something else out from Fahd’s subtext.

“So he didn’t tell you. You just heard him talking to himself,” Jonathan said.

Fahd looked like a kid caught swiping a sweet from the local Tesco.

“Relax,” Jonathan said. “You can keep the money. Assuming this pans out. If it doesn’t, you’ll be the one your co-workers are calling weird.” It was a vague threat, which Jonathan found worked best.

“Can I…” Fahd said, nodding towards the door.

“Yeah, beat it,” Jonathan said. He thought about stopping Fahd and making him pay for the espresso just for kicks, but let him go. He knew from past experiences with guys like Fahd, the less you had to do with them, the better.

Jonathan watched as Fahd stumbled his way back out of the cafe. The second he was out the door, Jonathan grabbed his phone. His anxiety eased when he saw that Natalie had left him a voice message. He was about to dial his voicemail when Lew dropped down into the seat Fahd had just been in.

“Twitchy give us anything good?” Lew asked, still chewing on a pastry.

“How are you not a thousand pounds?” Jonathan asked as he watched Lew inhale the rest of his “snack”. Jonathan had eaten with Lew more than he had anyone else on the planet, even Natalie, and the amount of food Lew consumed was always amusing. Especially since Lew was six feet tall and over 220 pounds, but only about 10% body fat. Jonathan was jealous. He had a thinner body type than Lew, but the past couple of years he’d had to really work to stay in shape. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself have anything resembling a pastry.

“Clea’ libbing,” Lew mumbled through a mouthful of dough. “So what’s up?”

“Talie called,” Jonathan said.

“Yes! I knew it. Told you, didn’t I? What did the little squirt say?”

“I don’t know. She called just as Fahd got here.”

“No, don’t tell me…you rejected her call? For that sleeze? That’s messed up, man,” Lew said, shaking his head.

“We got the name and address,” Jonathan said, ignoring Lew’s jabs. After all these years he’d gotten good at that. “We’ll go tomorrow. Make sure you get some sleep tonight.”

“Yes, Mom.” Lew drained his coffee. “Still can’t believe you didn’t answer the kid’s call.” He stood up, the chair creaking a sigh of relief. “I’ll come by your place in the morning. Call your kid.”

“Want some company?” Jonathan said, standing up and throwing a few pounds onto the table. Lew furrowed his brow and looked at him. Jonathan knew why; they’d made a habit of not being seen in public together. Just in case.

“Uh, sure. Anything specific you want to do?” Lew asked, donning his Raybans.

“Just walk,” Jonathan said.

They stepped out into the afternoon and headed east towards St. Paul’s Cathedral. They didn’t talk for almost an hour. They were as close as brothers and their silences were never awkward. Sometimes it was just good to be around someone who meant that much to you. After getting a couple ice cream cones, they ended up leaning against a railing and watching the afternoon river traffic.

After a while, Lew turned around and leaned back against the railing, watching the crowds. Tourists and businessmen strolled by in the September sunshine. But Jonathan knew Lew wasn’t people watching; he was making sure there were no threats about.

“You gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” Lew said without taking his eyes off the crowds.

“We’re running out of money,” Jonathan said. The smaller jobs had taken their toll. Paying off Fahd had actually made Jonathan worry about making his rent this month.

“I know,” Lew said.

“You know.”

“Sure, but this is what you do.”

“What I do?”

“Every now and then you get all freaked out about drawing too much attention and then you only set up smaller jobs for us. But you get over it and then we’re flush and back to normal. I have to admit, it’s gone on longer than usual this time, but you’ll come around.  You always do,” Lew said.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” Jonathan said, trying to roll with what he’d just heard. He’d had no idea he was being so transparent, or that there had been enough of these times for there to be a pattern.

“I do, don’t I,” Lew said, looking at Jonathan over his Raybans. The look Jonathan could take, it was the shit-eating grin that went with it that got under his skin. “It must be annoying.”

“Hang on,” Jonathan said. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“I’m not calm.”

“You seem calm.”

“I don’t know why I’d seem calm.”

“Maybe because you’re calm.”

“Huh, maybe.”

“Well?”

“After your last spate of cut-rate jobs, I figured it was time to add a little cash to the bugout bag in my closet.”

“A little. How little?”

“About fifty grand,” Lew said.

“Jesus.”

“You can borrow some if you want.”

“I can?”

“Sure. All you have to do is ask.”

Jonathan sighed and braced himself. “May I borrow some money.”

“What’s mine is yours, amigo. But you know there’s a way we can make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh huh. How’s that?” Jonathan asked, but he was pretty sure he knew what was coming. Lew took off his glasses and looked Jonathan dead in the eyes.

“Let’s be The Monarch again.”

Jonathan knew Lew had never minded being The Monarch. Liked it, in fact. Especially the big payouts. They had started all of this because they’d been fed up with the system — Lew with the army and Jonathan with intelligence. Both had felt they were doing more harm than good. But then a chance meeting in Bogota, Colombia had set them on the path to make a difference. Though, there was a big distinction between returning some rare books stolen by a delusional security guard, and finding a lost Rembrandt the world had thought destroyed. As The Monarch they were preserving culture and history, but there was a big price to pay.

“What about Natalie?” Jonathan said. She wasn’t just Jonathan’s daughter, she was Lew’s surrogate niece.

“We can figure something out,” Lew said, sounding like a kid trying to convince his Dad to take him to a ballgame.

“‘Figure something out’,” Jonathan said flatly. “Jesus, you thought harder about which pastries to eat back at the cafe! Natalie isn’t something to figure out. She’s all that matters.”

“And I don’t know that?” Lew said, getting defensive. “I’m just the fucking idiot muscle.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jonathan said. Then after a minute: “But there are times—”

“Fuck you,” Lew said, pushing off from the railing. “If I’m such a mouth breather, get your own fucking money.” He roughly put his glasses on, swung around and marched off, his coat swirling in his hurry.

“Lew, don’t be like that. You know what I meant,” Jonathan said, but Lew kept walking. “Lew! Are you coming tomorrow?”

Lew spun around and walked backwards. “Sure! You might need me to lift something. Ladies and Gentlemen, Jonathan the giant brain. Give him a hand,” Lew said to the people around him, waving his arms like a circus ringmaster. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Sometimes I can be such a dick.

Jonathan didn’t believe for a minute that all Lew brought to the table was his physicality, but it was a button he could push to make Lew drop The Monarch nonsense. In retrospect, Jonathan knew he was lucky Lew hadn’t knocked him on his ass. He had to apologize, but when Lew got like this you just had to leave him alone for a while. The only person who could cut through his moods was Emily, his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

But as far as Jonathan knew, they’d been off for a long while. Ironically, for the same reason Jonathan was staying away from Natalie. Not that Lew would admit it, of course. Jonathan actually wished they could work things out, but he knew Lew could be a lot to take on a constant basis.

She was probably better off without him.

About the Author:

 

JACK SOREN was born and raised in Toronto, Canada.

Before becoming a thriller novelist, Jack wrote software manuals, drove a cab and spent six months as a really terrible private investigator. His debut novel The Monarch was nominated for the Kobo Emerging Writer national book award. He lives in the Toronto area.

www.jacksoren.com

www.facebook.com/jacksorenwrites

@jacksorenwrites

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22308744-the-tomorrow-heist

 


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10 promo codes for a free download of The Tomorrow Heist

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Tour: The Vampire, The Handler, and Me by Eileen Sheehan

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vamp handler me coverThe Vampire, The Handler, and Me
Eileen Sheehan

Genre:  paranormal romance

Publisher:  Eternal Press, LLC
Date of Publication: September 1, 2015

ISBN: 978-1629293110
ASIN:  B01494XZB8

Number of pages:  202
Word Count: 100 k

Cover Artist:  Dawne Dominique

Book Description:

In a romantic triangle of good and bad, it’s hard to tell who is good and who is bad.

Lizzy Ewing is caught in a romantic triangle between a two enemies; the handsome vampire, Nevi, and the hunky handler, Geoffrey. A handler herself, Lizzy must choose between Nevi and Geoffrey. One wants her for all the right reasons and one doesn’t.

Will she discover who is who before the bad destroys the good?

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/_uPA_tE9aU8

 

Amazon     BN    Eternal Press

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Excerpt:

“My name is Nevi, Nevi Sharpe,” he said with a deep, sultry accent. “May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of sharing scratch-off tickets?”

I wanted to answer him but I was still stuck on stupid. I opened my mouth to speak and absolutely nothing came out.

How embarrassing.

How ridiculous.

How mortifying.

He was just a man, after all. What was my issue?

I just couldn’t move past the sense of magnificence that permeated the air around him. It was both electrifying and nerve wracking.

“You have a phone call,” blurted the bland voice of Miss Congeniality as she approached my newly discovered god-man with a cordless phone.

“Please excuse me,” he murmured in my direction as he snapped the phone from the clerk’s hand, obviously unhappy to be disturbed.

“Lizzy. Lizzy Ewing,” I forced past my lips as he stood up. “My name’s Lizzy Ewing.”

I could feel flames consume my cheeks when I realized how desperate my voice must have sounded. He studied me with dancing eyes—momentarily forgetting his annoyance about the phone call.“Nice to meet you, Lizzy Ewing,” he said warmly. “Please excuse me.”

With that, he lifted the phone unceremoniously to his ear and disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. I assumed it led to his office. At the faint sound of another door shutting behind that door, I felt I assumed right.

The clerk shuffled through the array of lotto tickets spread out on the counter in front of me with a notable smirk on her broad, acne infested face before looking up at me. “That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” she stated smugly.

I stood there looking at her for a brief moment while it registered with me…I was getting stuck with the entire bill of my not so private scratch-off tryst!


eileen sheehanAbout the Author:

Eileen Sheehan lives in her native upstate New York where she enjoys the beauty of the New York Countryside.

When she is not sitting at the computer creating a new fantasy, she can be found helping her clients through her holistic business as Lena Sheehan a.k.a. Psychic Lena.

She takes advantage of her experiences, wisdom and knowledge of the paranormal and often finds ways to insert them into her writings.

http://www.sheehan-author.info

https://twitter.com/AuthorSheehan

https://www.facebook.com/sheehan.author

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14219489.Eileen_Sheehan

 


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(2) e-book copies of The Vampire, The Handler and Me in epub or mobi format.

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