Monday, April 24, 2017

Sales Blitz- Vein of Love by R. Scarlett


Title: Vein Of Love (The Blackest Gold, #1)
Author: R. Scarlett
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: August 16, 2016
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Synopsis
Three centuries ago, Molly Darling’s ancestors signed a contract in blood—daemon blood—to protect themselves from harm. On the eve she turns nineteen, Molly leaves for her birthday party against her parent’s wishes, sick of their warnings about her “betrothal to a demon.” Except that she’s very much betrothed, and he’s very much a demon—one who’s only agreed to the nuptials to steal Molly’s ancient daemon powers. Brash, arrogant, and built like a Greek god, Tensley Knight keeps showing up to save Molly from otherworldly attacks, only to insult her a moment later. As Molly learns more about the demon world, she realizes two things: that her family’s safety depends on a successful marriage, while any chance of freedom she’ll ever have calls for Tensley’s demise. Yet sometimes Molly spots a tortured soul beyond those liquid grey eyes, and there’s no denying the way her skin tingles when Tensley touches it. In Vein of Love, safety requires sacrifice, foe becomes lover, and one must decide whether to kiss…or to kill.
Free for a limited time!

Vein Of Love

*********
Title: Body Of The Crime (Blackest Gold, #2)
Author: R. Scarlett
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: January 30 , 2017
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Synopsis
Never trust a demon. Never trust your heart. And never trust the woman who holds it. In Body of the Crime, a beast craved a beauty and oh, how she ravaged him.
99 cents for a limited time!
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Pre-Order for 99 cents!
About The Author
R. Scarlett lives in a small quaint town in Southern Ontario, Canada and has an unhealthy obsession with mythology and romance.
From studying English literature and minoring in History, she loves losing herself in a good book and snuggling up to her Brittany Spaniel. When she’s not writing or plotting a delicious novel, she can be found hanging out with friends and family, going on long car rides, exploring small towns, or watching reruns of Sex and the City.
 

Sunday, April 23, 2017

A Piece of my Heart by Sharon Sala PLUS Giveaway!

She’s never had a home
Growing up in a troubled foster home, Mercy Dane knew she could never rely on anyone but herself. She’s used to giving her all to people who don’t give her a second glance, so when she races to Blessings, Georgia, to save the life of an accident victim, she’s flabbergasted when the grateful town opens its arms to her. She never dreamed she’d ever find family or friends—or a man who looks at her as if she hung the stars.

Until she finds peace in his arms
Police Chief Lon Pittman is getting restless living in sleepy little Blessings. But the day Mercy Dane roars into his life on the back of a motorcycle, practically daring him to pull her over, he’s lost. There’s something about Mercy’s tough-yet-vulnerable spirit that calls to Lon, and he will do anything in his power to make her realize that home isn’t just where the heart is—home is where their heart is.

Books-A-Million: http://bit.ly/2oLg8t3




CHAPTER ONE

From childhood, Mercy Dane viewed Christmas Eve in Savannah, Georgia, like something out of a fairy tale. The old, elegant mansions were always lit from within and decorated with great swags of greenery hanging above the doorways and porch railings like thick green icing on snowy white cakes.
The shops decked out in similar holiday style were as charming as the sweet southern women who worked within. Each shop boasted fragrant evergreens, plush red velvet bows, and flickering lights mimicking the stars in the night sky above the city.
And even though Mercy had grown up on the hard side of town with lights far less grand, the lights in her world burned with true southern perseverance. Now that she was no longer a child, the beauty of the holiday was something other people celebrated, and on this cold Christmas Eve, she no longer believed in fairy tales. So far, the chapters of her life consisted of a series of foster families until she aged out of the system, and one magic Christmas Eve with a man she never saw again. The only lights in her world now were the lights where she worked at the Road Warrior Bar.
The yellow neon sign over the bar was partially broken. The R in Road was missing its leg, making the word look like Toad. But the patrons who frequented this bar didn’t care about the name. They came for the company and a drink or two to dull the disappointment of a lifetime of regrets.
Carson Beal, who went by the name of Moose, owned the bar. He’d been meaning to get the R fixed for years, but intention was worth nothing without the action, and Moose had yet to act upon the thought.
Outside, the blinking neon light beckoned, calling the lonely and the thirsty into the bar where the beer was cold and the gumbo and rice Moose served was hot with spice and fire.
Moose often took advantage of Mercy’s talent for baking after she’d once brought cupcakes for Moose and the employees to snack on. After that, she’d bring in some of whatever she’d made at home. On occasion Moose would ask her to bake him something special. It was always good to have a little extra money, so she willingly obliged.
This Christmas Eve, Moose had ordered an assortment of Christmas cookies for the bar. When Mercy came in to work carrying the box of baked goods, he was delighted. Now a large platter of cookies graced the north end of the bar.
The incongruity of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” playing in the background was only slightly less bizarre than the old tinsel Christmas tree hanging above the pool table like a molting chandelier.
Because of the holiday, only two of his four waitresses were on duty, Barb Hanson, a thirtysomething widow with purple hair, and Mercy Dane, the baker with a curvy body.
Mercy’s long, black hair was a stunning contrast to the red Christmas sweater she was wearing, and her willowy body and long, shapely legs looked even longer in her black jeans and boots. Her olive skin and dark hair gave her an exotic look, but being abandoned as a baby, and growing up in foster care, she had no knowledge of her heritage.
Barb of the purple hair wore red and green, a rather startling assortment of colors for a lady her age, and both women were wearing reindeer antler headbands with little bells. Between the bells and antlers, the music and cookies, and the Christmas tree hanging above the pool table, Moose had set a holiday mood.
Mercy had been working at the bar for over five years. Although she’d turned twenty-six just last week, her life, like this job, was going nowhere.
It was nearing midnight when a quick blast of cold air suddenly moved through the bar and made Mercy shiver. She didn’t have to look to know the ugly part of this job had just arrived.
“Damn, Moose, play some real music, why don’t ya?” Big Boy yelled as the door slammed shut behind him.
Moose glared at the big biker who’d entered his bar. “This is real music, Big Boy. Sit down somewhere and keep your opinions to yourself.”
The biker flipped Moose off, spat on the floor, and stomped through the room toward an empty table near the back, making sure to feel up Mercy’s backside in passing.
When Big Boy suddenly shoved his hand between her legs, she nearly dropped the tray of drinks she was carrying. She knew from experience that he was waiting for a reaction, so she chose to bear the insult without calling attention to it.
As soon as he was seated, Big Boy slapped the table and yelled at the barmaids. “One of you bitches bring me a beer!”
Moose glanced nervously at Mercy, aware that she’d become the target for most of Big Boy’s harassment.
Barb sailed past Mercy with a jingle in every step. “I’ve got his table,” she said.
“Thanks,” Mercy said, and delivered the drinks she was carrying. “Here you go, guys! Christmas Eve cheer and cookies from Moose!”
One trucker, a man named Pete, took a big bite out of the iced sugar cookie. “Mmm, this is good,” he said.
“Mercy made them,” Moose yelled.
Pete shook his head and took another bite. “You have a fine hand with baking. I’d ask you to marry me, darlin’, but my old lady would object.”
Mercy took the teasing with a grin. The men at this table were good men who always left nice tips. In fact, most of the patrons in the bar were men with no family or truckers who couldn’t get home for Christmas. Every now and then, a random woman would wander in to have a drink, but rarely lingered, except for Lorena Haysworth, the older woman sitting at the south end of the bar.
She’d been coming here since before Mercy was born, and in her younger days she and Moose had been lovers before slowly drifting apart. She’d come back into his life a few months ago and nightly claimed the seat at the end of the bar.
Barb took the first of what would be multiple beers to Big Boy’s table, along with a Christmas cookie and a bowl of stale pretzels, making sure to keep the table between them.
Big Boy lunged at her as if he was going to grab her, and when she turned around and ran, he leaned back and laughed.
Mercy returned to the bar with a new order and waited for Moose to fill it.
“Sorry about that,” Moose said, as he glanced toward the table where Big Boy was sitting.
Her eyes narrowed angrily. “How sorry are you? Sorry enough to kick him out? Or just sorry his money is more important to you than me and Barb?”
Moose’s face turned as red as his shirt. “Damn it, Mercy. You know how it goes,” he said, and pushed the new order across the bar.
She did know. The customer was always right. Trying not to buy into the turmoil, she picked up the tray and delivered the order with a smile.
The night wore on with Big Boy getting drunker and more belligerent, while Barb and Mercy dodged his constant attempts to maul them, until finally, it was time to close.
It was a few minutes before 2:00 a.m. when Moose shut down the bar. There were only three customers left. Big Boy, who was so close to passed out he couldn’t walk, Lorena, who was waiting to go home with Moose, and a trucker who’d fallen asleep at his table.
Mercy headed for the trucker, leaving Moose to wrestle Big Boy up and out.
The trucker was a small, wiry man named Frank Bigalow who fancied himself a ringer for country music star Willie Nelson. He was dreaming of hit songs and gold records when Mercy woke him.
“Frank. Frank. You need to wake up now. We’re closing.”
Bigalow straightened abruptly, momentarily confused as to where he was, then saw Mercy and smiled.
“Oh. Right. Sure thing, honey. What do I owe you?” he mumbled.
“Twelve dollars,” she said.
Bigalow stood up to get his wallet out of his pants then pulled out a twenty. “Keep the change and Merry Christmas,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said, and began bussing his table as he walked out of the bar.
Moose had Big Boy on his way out the door, and it was none too soon for Mercy.
She handed Moose the twenty when he returned. “Take twelve out. The rest is mine,” she said, and pocketed the change Moose gave her.
Within fifteen minutes, the bar was clear and swept, the money was in the safe, and Barb and Mercy were heading for the door.
“Hey! Girls! Wait up!” Moose said, then handed them each an envelope, along with little bags with some of Mercy’s cookies. “Merry Christmas. We’re not open tomorrow so sleep in.”
“Thank you,” Barb said, as she slid the envelope inside her purse.
“Much appreciated,” Mercy added, as she put her envelope in one of the inner pockets of her black leather bomber jacket. It was old and worn, but it was warm.
Then she grabbed her helmet and the cookies and headed out the door behind Barb and just ahead of Moose and Lorena. Once outside, she paused to judge the near-empty parking lot, making sure Big Boy and his Harley were at the motel across the street.
The air was cold and the sky was clear as she stashed the cookies, then put on her helmet and mounted her own Harley. Seconds later the quiet was broken by the rolling rumble of the engine as she toed up the kickstand, put the bike in gear, and rode off into the night.
The empty streets on the way to her apartment were a little eerie, but she was so tired she couldn’t work up the emotion to be scared. The streetlights were draped with Christmas garlands and red bows, but they were all one blur as Mercy sped toward home.
A city cop on neighborhood patrol saw her, recognized the lone bike and biker, and blinked his lights as she passed him.
She waved back and kept going.
When she stopped for a red light and realized she was the only person on this stretch of street, she didn’t breathe easy until the light turned green, and she moved on.
Finally, she was home. She eased up on the accelerator as she rolled through the gates of her apartment complex and parked the motorcycle beneath a light in plain view of the security cameras. She ran up the outer stairs to the second level and down the walkway to her apartment carrying her helmet and the cookies. No matter how many times she’d done this or how many times she’d moved since it happened, the fact that she’d once come home late at night to find out she’d been robbed, she never felt safe until she was in the apartment with the door locked behind her.
She tossed the helmet onto the sofa and took the cookies into the kitchen. Curious as to how much of a bonus Moose was giving this year, she was pleased to see a hundred-dollar bill.
“Nice,” she said, and took it and her night’s worth of tips to the refrigerator, opened up the freezer, and put the money inside an empty box that had once held a biscuit mix.
She wasn’t sure how much money she had saved up, but last time she’d counted it had been over two thousand dollars. It should have been in a bank, but these days, banks cost money to use, and she didn’t have any to spare, so she froze her assets.
The place smelled of stale coffee and something her neighbor across the hall had burned for dinner. She was tired and cold, but too wired to sleep, so she went to her bedroom, stripped out of her clothes, and took a long hot shower.
She returned to the kitchen later to find something to eat. One quick glance in the refrigerator was all the reminder she needed that she still hadn’t grocery shopped. She emptied what was left of the milk into a bowl of cereal and ate it standing by the sink, remembering another Christmas in Savannah, her first all on her own.
***
Mercy was nineteen years old, between jobs, and as close to homeless as she’d ever been. She had come back to her apartment after a long day of job-hunting, only to walk in on a burglar in the act. She screamed. He ran with what was left of her savings, and the hours afterward were a blur of tears and a fear that she would not be able to survive the setback. The only money she had left in the world was in her pocket.
The people in the adjoining apartments were sympathetic and curious, and a couple felt sorry for her and gave her a couple of twenties. She was standing in the hall waiting for the cops to clear her room when the neighbor from across the hall opened his door and came out. He’d moved in only two days ago, and during that time they’d done no more than nod and smile as they passed in the hall, but she liked his face. His eyes were kind, and his smile felt genuine.
It was apparent he’d been sleeping and had done no more than comb his fingers through his hair before he opened the door. The top snap on his jeans was undone, and he was pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he came out. She got a quick glimpse of a hard belly and wide shoulders before she looked away.
“What’s happening?” he asked, as he stopped beside her. “I fell asleep with the TV on. When I woke up and turned it off, I heard all this.”
“I was robbed,” she said.
His empathy was instant. “Oh no! Oh honey, are you okay? Were you hurt?”
Her voice was shaking. “My arrival scared him off.”
Without hesitation, he hugged her. The unexpected compassion undid her, and she began to cry.
And in the midst of that moment, the cops came out, and she pushed out of his arms.
“Ma’am, we’re through here. He busted the lock. I would suggest you find somewhere else to sleep for the night.”
“I don’t have somewhere else or someone else,” she said.
They shrugged and left the building.
The neighbors all went back into their apartments.
All but him.
She sighed and started for her apartment, when he stopped her with a word. “Don’t.”
She turned, anger already settling in her heart. “Don’t what? That’s everything I own in this world. They took my money. I’m not giving up what clothes I have left too.”
She walked into her apartment and closed the door.
He opened it and walked in behind her. “Get your things. You can sleep in my room tonight. Tomorrow we’ll figure something out.”
Mercy started to shake. “There is no we in my life.”
“Fine. Then you’ll figure something out. But you can sleep in my room tonight anyway.”
She stared at his face, looking for a sign of danger and seeing none. “Yes. Okay.”
“Want help gathering up your things?”
“No.”
“Then do what you need to do, and knock on my door when you have everything.”
She nodded.
He walked out.
She packed her bags while a cold anger washed through her. One more kick when she was down. It’s how her world worked. By the time she got across the hall, she had shut herself down.
“I made a bed for you on the sofa,” he said.
She left her bags by the door and then laid her coat on top of them as he locked up behind her. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re very welcome. Oh, hey, I just realized I don’t know your name.”
She grimaced. “Oh, just call me Lucky.”
“I have a feeling that’s not your real name, but it will do. I’m L.J. but my friends call me—”
“We’re not friends. L.J. will do,” she muttered.
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. He’d seen animals trapped into a corner with no way out, and the look in her eyes was about the same. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks. Just the bed. I’m tired. So fucking tired.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, but he was guessing she didn’t know it. “Then I’ll leave you alone. If you need anything later, just knock on my door.”
She nodded, dropped onto the sofa, and began taking off her shoes.
“Good night, Lucky. Sweet dreams,” he said.
She made a sound halfway between a snort and a sob. He left the room.
She went to bed. And three hours later woke up screaming.
He came out on the run with a gun in his hand.
By that time she was sitting on the side of the sofa bed with her head in her hands. Her long, black hair was in tangles, and the sports bra and sweatpants she’d been sleeping in were drenched with sweat, even though the room was cold. His first thought was that she was sick.
“Sorry. Bad dreams,” she said, and got up. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hall, first door on your left.”
She passed by him, so close he felt the heat from her body. And when she came out, she had washed up and dried off the sweat.
“You didn’t have to wait,” she said.
“I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and that you didn’t need anything…” Then he pointed at the clock. “It’s Christmas.”
Tears rolled down Mercy’s cheeks.
“Oh hell. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said.
“Well, you did, so what are you going to do about it?” she snapped.
L.J. flinched. “We could make love.”
Now she was the one who was startled. “What if I say no?”
He shrugged. “Then I go back to my room and sleep till daylight.”
The rage within her was choking. She wanted to feel something besides despair. “I am numb. I don’t think I will be able to feel.”
He held out his hand. “I know how to make you feel again.”
Mercy shivered, her mind racing. With a stranger? Just once. Just so she wouldn’t have to hurt.
She walked into his arms.
The ensuing hour was nothing short of magic. Mercy turned into someone she didn’t know existed. He turned her on and sent every emotion she had into overdrive. The sex was heart-stopping, and so was he. After it was over, he fell asleep with her still in his arms.
She watched his face as he slept until every facet of him was branded into her memory, but she wouldn’t sleep. An hour before daylight, she slipped out of his bed, dressed in the other room, and left without telling him good-bye.
***
A loud crash, and then the squall of a tomcat somewhere outside broke Mercy’s reverie.
She put her bowl in the sink and walked to the window overlooking the parking lot.
The neighborhood cat was prowling around the dumpster, and she saw the vague images of two people making out in a car near the back of the lot. Angry that she cared, she turned away. Exhaustion was finally catching up. It was after three in the morning when she rinsed the bowl and then paused in the doorway, making sure everything was turned off and locked up.
The silence in the apartment was suddenly broken by the distant sound of a phone ringing in a nearby apartment. The ringtone was “Jingle Bells.”
“Merry Christmas,” she muttered, and went to bed.


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Saturday, April 22, 2017

Fight For Me by Kaithlin Shepherd PLUS Giveaway!

Love is always worth fighting for.
Book Cover
FIGHT FOR ME
Kaithlin Shepherd
Series: Callaway Series, Book 3
Genre:†Western Romance
Publisher: Hot Tree Publishing
Publication Date: April 22, 2017
The responsible brother, John Callaway, spends most of his days locked away in his office, crunching numbers and placing orders. When a mysterious brunette rolls into town, he is immediately drawn to her. For a year, John has worked hard at earning her trust, hoping one day sheíll lower her walls enough to let him in.
Finally finding a home in Montana, Abby Johnson is the happiest sheís ever been working at the diner and spending time with the one person whoís shown her that good men exist. When her past catches up with her, Abby will have to trust the man sheís grown to care for to keep her safe, or sheíll risk losing everything.
Will her secret push John away or will Abby realize that love is always worth fighting for?
Another awesome book in this fabulous series. I love these Callaway(sic) boys. Brilliant characters and a really good plot.
- Andrea, Goodreads Reviewer

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WIN
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Prizes up for grabs:
$15 Amazon Gift Card
Fight for Me (Callaway #3) - signed Paperback
Make Me Whole (Callaway #1) - eBook
Forgive Me (Callaway #2) - eBook
Contest runs from April 22 - 26, 2017.

Additional Giveaway

Be sure to also join the giveaway for Fight For Me hosted by Hot Tree Publishing.

About†Kaithlin Shepherd

Author Pic
Kaithlin Shepherd is the author of The Callaway Series, The Brass Series and The Saints and Sinners series.
Born and raised in Canada by a working single mom and a loving grandmother, Kaithlin surrounded herself with novels by Danielle Steele and Nora Roberts provided by her grandmother. Kaithlin quickly fell in love with reading. It was in high school, thanks to an English teacher, that Kaithlin wrote her first story (although if you ask for it, she will deny ever writing it) about a popular boy band. Inspired by constructive criticism, Kaithlin spent some time developing her love affair with words through more reading than someone would think possible.
After pursuing a higher education, Kaithlin, sat down with a pen and paper and decided to give writing a shot. With no false hope in mind, her first novel, Make Me Whole, slowly came to life. Putting fear and doubt aside, Kaithlin has published five books to date, and has eleven more set to be published in the next two years.
Official website:http://www.kaithlinshepherd.com
Social media links: Facebook | Twitter
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Friday, April 21, 2017

Cover Reveal- Teenage Psychic on Campus by Pamela Woods- Jackson PLUS Giveaway!

Unveiling a new cover
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TEENAGE PSYCHIC ON CAMPUS
by Pamela Woods-Jackson
Genre:†New Adult, Young Adult, Paranormal
Publication Date: April 28, 2017
Caryn Alderson may be a psychic medium, but she can't predict her own life. Sheís totally blindsided when she discovers her boyfriend has cheated on her. Her best friend Annabeth attempts to jump-start Carynís stalled love life by introducing her to Gary Riddell, a fellow college freshman who can talk to ghosts. To paranormal groupie Annabeth, their abilities make them the perfect match. Unfortunately, Garyís acting career and Carynís love of journalism clash when Caryn writes a hatchet piece about Gary's acting abilities, and then publishes it in the campus newspaper. Dating is definitely out!
Then the two of them are asked to help the campus Ghost Stalkers club investigate a haunting at a local farmhouse. Caryn and Gary must combine their offsetting paranormal skills to locate more than just ghosts.

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Prizes up for grabs:
$10 Amazon Gift Card
Copy of Teenage Psychic on Campus (US - Print; International - eBook)
Contest runs from April 21 - 25, 2017.

About†Pamela Woods-Jackson

Author Pic
I am the author of CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE PSYCHIC (The Wild Rose Press, 2010), which was a 2011 Epic Ebook Contest finalist. A sequel, TEENAGE PSYCHIC ON CAMPUS, will be released this spring by The Wild Rose Press. My YA novel GENIUS SUMMER was released in November, 2014, by Vinspire Publishing. It was a finalist in the 2013 San Francisco Writers Contest, received high marks in the 2013 Pacific Northwest Writers Contest, and was awarded the Literary Classics Seal of Approval in 2015. My contemporary romance CERTAINLY SENSIBLE, released December 2, 2015 by The Wild Rose Press, was a Gold Medal winner in the 2016 Literary Classics Award Contest.
Social media links: Facebook | Goodreads

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Thursday, April 20, 2017

Cover Reveal- Stand by A.L. Jackson PLUS Giveaway!

 STAND

A Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel

Coming May 22nd

Cover: RBA Designs
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Models: Tyler Halligan & Madelyn DeSantis
From NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson comes the next seductive, unforgettable Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel…
Zachary Kennedy has never been known as a fighter, but he’ll never regret fighting for her…
I’m Zee Kennedy.
Quiet. Reserved. Predictable.
When my brother died, everyone thought I was just the good guy who stepped up to take his place in the band.
No one knew what I was hiding. The one thing I’ve been fighting for.
For six years, I’ve never lost focus.
Not until one chance encounter with Alexis Kensington.
Now she’s become my greatest temptation.
I knew better than to touch her, but now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t get enough.
Her kiss becomes my air. Her body my salvation.
She needed a savior and somehow she became mine.
Taking her was a betrayal. But keeping her means risking everything.
One look at Alexis Kensington, and I know she’s worth the fight.
Will my past continue to keep me down or will I finally find the strength to pull myself up and Stand…

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Tingles rushed, my words nothing more than pants as he kissed down through the valley of my breasts. “Maybe you’re just remembering who you are. Who you were always supposed to be.”
I felt as if I was so close to knowing him. This boy who’s beauty had been muted.
He groaned, half pained, half demand. “You almost make me feel like him.”  
Yanking me away from the railing, he hoisted me high. My legs were wrapped high around his chest as he carried me the rest of the way to the upper loft. To this magical place where twilight touched every corner, whispered its secrets and danced in its shadows.
He’d barely tossed me to the bed when he was over me, shoving up my dress and ripping it free, my fingers just as frantic as I tore his shirt over his head. I searched him, hands racing across his chest, feeling the wild beat of his conflicted heart, hearing the struggle that whimpered from his spirit.
He angled down and captured my mouth again. He kissed and bit and nipped as he held my face steady in the frame of his hands. Then he edged down, driving me wild with this murmurs of kisses at my jaw and ear and neck.
“Zachary…please.”
I writhed, dizziness rushing as I stared up at him towering over me.
His body was brimming with hard, cut muscle. Muscle that jumped and ticked and flexed, as if the desire thrumming in his veins stalked back and forth, a caged predator, searching for a way to be released.
My gaze traveled across the tattoo on his chest.
Relentless.
“Fight for me,” I begged.

 

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Grand Prize: Bleeding Stars Signed Book Bundle

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Second Prize: $25 Amazon Gift Card

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Tempting Justice by Fiona Archer PLUS Giveaway!




Title: Tempting Justice
Series: Sons of Sydney #2
Authors: Fiona Archer
Genre: Erotic Romance/Romantic Suspense
 Release Date: April 18, 2017



Blurb

He’s sworn to uphold the law

His reckless behavior as a child caused the deaths of his entire family. On the lonely Sydney streets, the orphan found friends. Found “brothers.” Never again will Seattle Homicide Detective Heath Justice break the rules and risk his new family. Order and discipline govern his life…until he meets a curvaceous redhead. With two ugly murder cases to solve, the last thing he needs is this disconcertingly lovely, whirlwind of chaos, yet…charmed by her wit and intelligence, Heath can’t resist.

She believes rules are meant to be broken

Deep into writing a murder mystery, author London Shaw is shocked when she herself is implicated in a homicide. She can’t believe the ever-so-authoritarian Detective Heath Justice expects her to simply ignore the crime and go on about her business. Not happening.  Although the man’s whiskey rough voice, cuffs, and masterful touch could melt any woman’s resistance—and does—she has a craving to do a little investigating herself.

When all or nothing is your only play

When Heath’s murder investigation threatens a far-reaching conspiracy, everyone he cares for becomes their target—including the woman he’s come to love.






Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU





Excerpt

Heath had grabbed the flask from the SUV’s back seat when he glimpsed a figure through the rear window. A woman, wearing a blue hoodie and black sweatpants walked to the edge of Derek’s driveway and gazed at the house’s front door. A few seconds later, she began walking swiftly down the driveway, constantly checking the front door.

Was she worried about being seen? A possible intruder?

Since he’d parked closer to the house further on from Derek’s parents’ property, the woman hadn’t spotted him. Heath replaced the flask on the backseat and gently pushed the back passenger door nearly closed. He waited until she had disappeared behind the side of the house before following.

Careful not to make noise, he followed the woman down the driveway and watched as she stopped in front of a side door to the garage, which was separate from the house. With her back to Heath, she pulled something from her pocket and tried to jimmy the door’s lock.

The woman glanced toward the back of the house, likely checking to see if she’d been spotted, then continued her efforts with the lock. A soft hiss and a “dammit” indicated her efforts were unsuccessful.

Heath also couldn’t miss the curvy shape of her figure outlined so well by the soft black material hugging her gorgeous arse. One shown off to perfection as she bent to look closer at the lock.

A tiny squeak of joy, followed by her opening the door, signaled the possible intruder had crossed a line. It seemed such a shame to stop his fun. Nevertheless, duty called…

Heath pulled out his 9mm from his shoulder holster and held it out in front of him as he moved forward. “Police! Put your hands on your head and step away from the door.”

The woman let out a high squeak, dropped the lock pick, and spun around, eyes wide. Her mouth formed an “O” at the sight of his weapon. “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness.” She covered her mouth with both hands before waving them in front of her, palms facing Heath. “It’s not what you think. Honestly.” Her gaze snapped to her left in the direction of the back of the house as if she expected someone to come out any moment.

“I said, hands on your head.” Heath commanded, satisfied when the woman immediately obeyed. “Come forward, turn around, and face the garage door.” He saw her close her eyes in defeat before she obeyed. Heath grabbed his cuffs and shoved his weapon back in the holster. With efficient moves, he had her wrists secured behind her.

“Officer, I can explain.” She sighed. “I mean, I know everyone says that, but really, nothing illegal’s happening here.”

“Good to know.” He pulled her jacket’s hood from her head. Red hair. No, the description didn’t do the color justice, but he only knew guyspeak, which would have to suffice to explain the bursts of deeper red in amongst the lighter strands, all held in a ponytail.

Heath patted down his suspect. No weapons. And he’d have to be dead not to notice the way his hands fit over her hips, the roundness of her arse. He wasn’t a sleaze, not by any means, but he appreciated a woman’s body like any man.

Taking her arm in a firm grip, he turned his suspect around.

Green eyes framed with long, thick lashes blinked up at him. “When I say nothing illegal, I mean it depends on your point of view.”

“My point of view is as a cop, which doesn’t leave a lot of leeway on a range of subjects.”

She frowned at him, as if he was being unreasonable. “That’s a rather rigid stance. Not everything is black and white.”

Heath wasn’t prepared to debate the point. “Your disappointment is noted. Now—”

“Hey, I’m sure you’re a busy guy. And, uh,”—she licked her lips—“you need to go protect the community. That’s an important role. Absolutely. So, you know—” She broke off. “Shoo. Anyway, we can put a line under this and start the day over.”

Despite her opinion of his so-called inflexible outlook on life, he couldn’t help answering. “We can, huh?”

“Totally.” She nodded, sending her ponytail bobbing.

Keeping hold of her arm, Heath looked down at her black canvas tennis shoes to hide his mouth twitching.

It was a safe bet the young woman wasn’t a hardened criminal. But whatever the hell she was up to, he aimed to find out. First he needed to phone Derek.

“Do you know the owners of this house?”

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew huge in her face. “You don’t have to get them,” she rushed out.

“Oh, but I do.” He went to pull out his phone from his back pocket, and the woman jerked against his grip. She would have toppled over if not for him keeping his hold.

Oh, no, sweetheart.

He tightened his grip, reinforcing her captivity and moved closer, towering over her. “Lady, you could have hurt yourself.” The safety of suspects was important, and the thought of the little redhead causing herself harm propelled his alpha instincts center stage. “Resist once more, and I’ll use my belt to hogtie you.”

She drew in a sharp breath. What he didn’t see was fear. Not in her eyes or the way a blush stained the cool-toned white skin of her face. And swear to God, he felt her body soften against him.

An image of her hogtied flashed through his mind. Only she wouldn’t be in this driveway, but in his bed. Lying on his sheets. Her glorious long red hair spread over his pillow.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Heath looked over his shoulder. Derek stood at the side of the house, his hands jammed on his hips.

Dammit,” came from his suspect.

A look best described as misery—from the closed eyes and turned down mouth—covered her face.

“I caught a suspect attempting to break into your parents’ garage.”

Derek gave a dry laugh. “I’ve no doubt she’s up to something, but that’s no suspect.” He strode up the driveway, his frown reserved for the woman at Heath’s side. “Meet London, my baby sister."

Heath swung his gaze to…Derek’s sister?

Those eyes, so wide and shocked before, were now narrowed with the promise of rebellion, even as she stood there—in his cuffs.

Ah. So bravado was her chosen defense.

Heath remembered the sweet color of her blush at his earlier threat of hogtying her.

Lightning might strike him down any second, but the woman intrigued him, even knowing she was Derek’s sister. The knowledge he didn’t have to call for a cruiser to take her to booking added a new dimension to the proceedings. Anticipation flowed through Heath. He was going to enjoy this visit, and for way more than pancakes.

Time for his prisoner to confess all.


Also Available


AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU



Author Bio


Fiona Archer writes erotic romance filled with masterful Aussie alpha heroes and teams them with sassy heroines who limit their submissive side to the bedroom. She lives in sunny environs of Sydney, Australia, and is harassed by a flock of wild cockatoos that take over the back yard each afternoon, demanding their feed. Her favorite hobbies include watching Nathan Fillion on television, shopping for that ever-elusive perfect shade of lipstick, and drinking iced coffee.



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