Posted in Books, Teasers

Teaser Tuesday–Author Beth D. Carter

For this edition of Teaser Tuesday, we are pleased to have Beth D. Carter as the featured author. Below you will find a blurb and an excerpt of Beth’s current release, ‘Sleeping Beauty’, including a book cover and other author information. Enjoy the scintillating reading!

Ronan Hark and Noah Kabot are deep space salvagers, partners in business as well as in life. While investigating an old ship they discover a cryo chamber holding the frozen body of a beautiful woman who’s been asleep for thirty-one years. Against Ronan’s better judgment, they take the chamber and wake her up.

Alivia has spent her life living as a sheltered yet unloved princess, until the day she is forced into cryo stasis. It was only supposed to be for a short time, but somehow her ship crashed and she became nothing more than a memory.

But now everything has changed. A hunter is after her and killing anyone who knows she’s alive. As they race across the expanse of space, can Ronan and Noah keep her safe? And what happens when she finally returns home to confront a life that forgot about her?

Excerpt:

Ronan moved cautiously through the ship. The thick view windows had cracked upon impact, allowing dirt and rocks to tumble inside. Everything was washed out, colorless. Lifeless. He made his way through the broken, silent ship, dreading to see the cockpit and the remains of the captain. But much to his surprise, the control room stood empty.

He moved to the engine console and wiped off the inches-thick dirt, baring the powerless control panels. He set his scanner on it and activated it. Seconds later the cockpit came to life as the wireless remote downloaded all the information available. It didn’t last long and as soon as all the data was collected he disconnected the console, shutting down the power surge. The small area fell silent and lifeless once again.

He activated the neural com link with Noah. “Where are you?”

“I’m next to a large clump of twisted metal.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Well, that narrows it down.”

“Wait,” Noah’s distracted voice told him. “I think I found what was causing the power signature.”

Ronan hesitated, but when Noah didn’t contact him after a minute, he went after him, making his way carefully through the rubble into the back of the ship.

“Noah?”

“Ronan, you won’t believe this.”

“Believe what?”

He pushed into the back of the ship, which was actually in much better shape than the front, and saw him standing next to a large steel box. Through his visor Ronan could see the surprise coving the younger man’s face.

“What is it?”

Noah shook his head. “It’s a cryo chamber. And it’s occupied.”

“What?”

Ronan hurried over. The metal box, also known as a cold coffin, held a sleeping woman inside. He couldn’t see much of her because of all the tubes obscuring much of her face, but he could tell she was young, her flaming-red hair a glaring contrast to the paleness of her features.

More:

Author Info & Social Media links:

I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers. I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love.


https://www.facebook.com/bethdcarterauthor

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http://bethdcarter.blogspot.com/

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Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/BethD.Carter/e/B00EOTD1T0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1385417145&sr=8-1

Posted in Books, Teasers

Tuesday Teaser from Autumn Montague

Dear Readers and Fans:

For this Teaser Tuesday, I am featuring author, Autumn Montague, and a teaser from her latest work, ‘Blood Sworn 1: Salva Me’. Enjoy the excerpt below. Should you seek more of Autumn’s writing style: please see the list of available books from this author that follows the excerpt. Happy reading!

Autumn Montague Blood Sworn 1: Salva Me (Excerpt)

Chapter One
London, 1816

Blood. Sweet, sweet blood thickened with terror. The girl in his arms fought with weakening desperation, her life rushing away through the crimson tide pulsing from her with each frantic beat of her heart. Intoxicating copper heat coursed across his lips, suffusing him with its nourishing power.

Her moans grew fainter as his poison saturated her body. The exquisite torture of emptying his venom flooded his muscles with godlike power, and he tightened his hold, crushing her fragile, merely human form against him. Her gasp of pain drove a spike of lusty pleasure through him. He released her neck to watch her blood flood across her shoulders to stain her flimsy gown.

A waste perhaps, but he could find another. The silent, horrified plea in her dulling eyes spurred his lust, and he ripped the sodden dress open to bare her cotton stays. A hand batted feebly, a near-unconscious impulse to protect her vanished modesty.

Little whore. She’d no need for modesty with him. He had no interest in her person, not yet. Not until she was at the brink. Then he’d spread her legs and revel in her death throes.

Yes. Yes, that peak of ecstasy neared, her glazed eyes beginning to fade. She drew a hitching breath, and he dropped her limp body to the mud, reaching for the fastenings to his breeches.

The clatter of hooves and creak of heavy wheels broke his concentration, his anticipated pleasure vanishing.

Damn! With a frantic bound, he hurled himself into the velvet black shadow of the alley behind him. Frustrated desire boiled through him as he watched the carriage lurch to a halt. A murderous rage rose, urging him to attack the interlopers. He attempted to quash it, but the slavering beast of his hunger did not want to be assuaged. The girl was his rightful prey, and he would be damned if he would allow mere humans to drive him off. He readied himself, prepared to lunge when the correct moment presented.

The tiniest of breezes stirred the air as the passengers descended from the barouche. It carried the oh-so-faint scent of the intruders, driving him back into the shadows.

“Imbecile!” The word escaped him in a hiss. He peered around, forcing his eyes to see, his ears to hear. As if a veil had been drawn back, he realized he stood almost in the heart of London. How had he followed the girl so far without recognizing his danger?

At least one of the men in the carriage knew him by sight and scent. Worse, if they were to meet, his enemy was duty-bound to kill him without hesitation. He twitched, annoyed, uncertain—wanting his prize but unwilling to face his opponent at this moment.

His hunger stilled, replaced by an urgent need to flee. Later. The time would come, but that time was not now. With a last look at the shuddering girl behind him, he forced more venom to his muscles and shivered in delight as he fled into the night.

* * * *

Morgan Holland clenched his teeth against an impious curse as the carriage lurched to an unexpected halt, knocking his skull against the lacquered wooden panel behind his head. Inertial momentum pitched his companion face forward against the opposite seat with bruising abruptness. Morgan gave the trap door over his head a savage thump with his fist, even as he reached to help the Baron of Colbourne up off the floor.

“Blast it all, I’m fine, Holland,” Colbourne barked.

Morgan smothered a grin at his master’s temper over his bruised dignity. He gestured at the gaping tear across the knee of Colbourne’s superfine trousers. “Perhaps we should return home for a change of clothes before we continue to White’s.”

Colbourne scowled. “Damn. Weston just delivered these this week. I’ll have to commission a new pair.”

“As you say, my lord.” Amusement warred with Morgan’s ringing head as he fought to keep a smirk off his face. Colbourne’s penchant for fine clothes had been a constant source of humor between them.

“Don’t be smug, Holland. Just because you managed to maintain your seat is no reason for a swelled head.”

The dour tone proved too much, and a highly inappropriate snort evaded Morgan’s control. Jeremy Takeshi Yamakawa Colbourne, Fifth Baron of Colbourne, took great pains to appear neat and elegant for any evening revelry. Since his Japanese ancestry drew the derision of his peers, he always maintained a flawless nobleman’s appearance. Morgan felt privileged to be among those few who could jest about the habit without giving offense. Moreover, the unique circumstances of Morgan’s employment had built a bond between them, a bond closer to friendship than master and servant.

A sharp rap at the window halted Colbourne’s next salvo even as he drew breath for the words, undoubtedly to cast unmeant aspersions on Morgan’s ancestry. The words died at the sound of their driver’s frantic rap on the door.

It seemed the difficulty interrupting them was more than a mere rut in the road.

“This needs your attention, my lord,” Toby quavered, fear plain in his voice.

Morgan felt a chill worm its way down his spine, a chill having nothing to do with the damp air outside the carriage door. Colbourne’s handsome face tightened, his grave expression igniting an answering spark of alarm in Morgan. He followed his master into the dank night, and nearly choked.

“Plague of the ages!” Colbourne’s biting exclamation did not quite carry the weight of a bellow, but it might as well have been a shout.

The night air carried a familiar coppery tang, laced with the faint odor of bile. Morgan knew the smell, of tainted blood and death. When he’d first met Colbourne, the man had been covered in the same bloody aroma. Morgan could not see this poor soul, not yet, but the smell left no doubt.

“Nosferatu.” He’d never encountered one, only read in books what they were, what they did. Read, and seen what had happened to his master, the Baron of Colbourne, one of the preeminent nosferii nobles in England. Or anywhere else. The last nosferatu to hunt here had almost cost the country its most needed protector.

Colbourne cast a keen glance his way but said nothing, just stepped around the corner of the carriage for a look at what had bollixed their plans for the evening. Morgan followed, suppressing the urge to gag at the foulness of the air. He tried to keep his strides casual, as though he were walking into yet another evening entertainment, not around the carriage corner for a look at a shredded human being.

Colbourne quirked an eyebrow at Morgan’s calm facade. “No one would think twelve years ago you were a mere tenant farmer, untutored in such things.”

“Even a farmer faces death, my lord.” A true enough statement. After all, Morgan had tended to enough carrion when he was younger: dead livestock, headless chickens after foxes raided the coops. Yet none of his experience prepared him for the putrid aroma hovering over the slumped form in the road. The rank odor was fouler than the oldest carcass he’d ever cleared from his fields. With reluctance, he turned his full attention on the unfortunate victim.

“God!” The exclamation burst from him at the appalling sight that met his eyes.

The brown dirt of the road had turned to mud, glistening with the darkness of spilled blood. A young woman lay trembling in that crimson sludge, her neck savaged and raw. The gaping wounds reeked from the pungent slime coating them.

“Well, she lives, Morgan.” Colbourne sighed, as though the fact was unworthy of celebration. “At least for the present.”

“For the present? Is there nothing to be done?” Morgan could not tear his eyes from the girl. She couldn’t have seen more than sixteen, eighteen years at best.

“From the smell of things, the abomination emptied his venom into her.” Colbourne knelt in the mud, oblivious now to his appearance. “See?” He pointed to the ragged edges of the wounds on the girl’s neck. “There are multiple bites here, some more recent than others.” He laid a gentle, gloved finger near the deepest one. “This bite is hours old, and she is nearly exsanguinated. I am amazed she can still draw breath.”

“Is it too late for a turning?”

That caught Colbourne’s attention. His master stood, searching Morgan’s face for something. Then he sighed, perhaps finding no answer to what he sought.

“It is far too late. At this point, all we can do is ease her passing by treating the wound and dosing her liberally with laudanum. I doubt she’ll notice, but it should be done nonetheless.” He gave Morgan another cryptic glance. “I suppose it’s time to introduce you to the real meaning behind the existence of the Colbourne title. I’ll call you to my study after I have fed. In the meantime, you might want to do some research into turnings. The library has plenty of material for your reading.”

Research? Morgan felt the faintest flush of embarrassment warm his neck. It seemed he’d touched on a sensitive topic. He turned to the coachman. “Toby, get the lap blanket.” He considered for a moment. “And your long coat.” Between the blood, the sodden clothing, and the general mess, two layers should provide both warmth for the young woman and protection for the carriage.

Toby returned, and Morgan watched as Colbourne bundled the girl tightly in the coat, wrapping her head to toe in the blanket. When he lifted the fragile burden, Morgan attempted to assist him, only to receive a flat denial.

“This slime will eat through your hide,” Colbourne reminded. “Don’t forget your teachings, Holland.”

Morgan stepped back, feeling the Compulsion his master laid behind the words. He suppressed a sigh. When Colbourne used such a trick, it usually meant unpleasant instruction ahead.

They rode home at a rapid clip, carriage swaying on its springs at Toby’s urgent pace. Morgan could see the lax bundle in his master’s lap out of the corner of his eye, though he did his utmost not to stare. He focused instead on the adorning crest of the panel immediately behind Colbourne’s head, little good though it did him. Every time he relaxed his control, his eyes flew inexorably to the doomed girl. At some point, he glanced down again and discovered her hitching breaths had ceased.

Colbourne’s dark eyes were shuttered. Even in the dimness of their carriage, distress showed in the line between his brows and the bunched muscles of his jaw. Morgan reached across the gap separating them, called to soothe his master’s pain. Dark lashes lifted, revealing Colbourne’s grief at his failure.

Tonight’s enjoyments were meant to be a prelude in advance of Colbourne’s Contracted feeding; a bit of casual camaraderie to make amends for the awkward strain that had recently come between them. With this appalling discovery, the emotional toll on them both could hinder the process. Worse still, it might encourage Colbourne to postpone the feeding.

A tinge of red outlined those dark eyes. “Don’t worry, Holland. I’ll have myself under control by the appointed time.”

“I am certain you will, my lord,” Morgan answered, keeping his voice level. “I worry more for my control than for yours.”

A wistful smile touched Colbourne’s lips. “Your iron will? It will never waver, regardless of my desires.” The smile vanished. “Nonetheless, we will bury this poor child before we begin, Holland. I owe her that much, at least.”

* * * *

At the expected time, Morgan stood outside the sanguis cubiculum, irresolute. After a moment, he drew a deep breath and opened the heavy door enough to slip into the dim room. Hoping to recover his usual calm, he looked around at the comforts scattered about the feeding chamber. His master’s ancestry held full sway here, unlike any other room within Colbourne Manor. In the center, where the Contract always took place, a pile of soft bedding dominated. Oriental basins and water pitchers flanked the futon, with folded cloths of soft linen laid neatly alongside. Wax-paper lanterns lit the room with softened candlelight, casting shadows over the ornate screens and furnishings in the corners.

Colbourne waited on the futon, his white shirt open at the neck. Shadows from the flickering lanterns enhanced his Japanese ancestry, drawing attention to the faint epicanthic folds and the graceful arch of his brow. It presented a strong contrast to the British height and strong jaw, but Colbourne’s nosferii nature blended the two into pleasing harmony. Altogether attractive, sensual, and dangerous for Morgan’s heart, given what usually passed after a feeding.

Over the past twelve years, Morgan had gradually become accustomed to his master’s bisexuality, though with difficulty. It was a hallmark of the nosferii, but as Colbourne had said, Morgan had once been an untutored farmer. The Church of England considered such relationships unnatural and anathema to any God-fearing man. To be accused—worse, to be convicted—bore the potential for death. Earlier this year, Lord Byron himself had fled from England, fallen from his lauded pedestal and hounded by rumors of sodomy. Despite the political immunity granted by the kings of England to the nosferii, what a choice it proved: declare yourself attracted to the same sex, or declare yourself a vampire.

Yet for all the moralizing of his past, for all the strength he put into his denials, Morgan found himself continuously consumed by the desire for the sexual acts that followed a nosfera’s blood-feed. Though he could not prevent the upsurge of lust, he held it at bay, keeping his master at arm’s length and insisting another partner be ready once the feeding was done.

Despite knowing all this, despite his desires, the sight of Jeremy Colbourne’s demanding eyes and waiting lips had Morgan’s groin twitching in anticipation. It shamed him to know he couldn’t settle his feelings into the simplicity he’d known a dozen years earlier.

Colbourne’s strong hand pulled him to the down-filled bedding, sending a shiver through Morgan at the contact. Raw, sensual hunger rolled over him in waves, as the nosferii power of attraction shattered his determination with mere proximity. He swallowed, exerting as much control as he could over his physical reactions.

“You are as unyielding as ever, Holland.”

“Only in one matter, my lord. Is there someone near at hand for—after?”

A sad chuckle answered him. “Yes. My guest waits in my chambers.” Colbourne’s hand grazed Morgan’s neck, sliding sensuously along his throat. “Are you ready, Hostia Aeternus?”

The change in Colbourne’s voice indicated the time had come. Morgan looked at his master, seeing the reddened eyes, the widened pupils. A surge of desire flooded him, and he suppressed the unnatural lust. Still, the yearning to yield and be everything his master asked of him almost overpowered his sense.

Colbourne’s tongue touched his neck. Morgan shuddered, unable to prevent the involuntary reaction.

“I am hungry.” His master’s hot breath accompanied the words, while bared fangs grazed Morgan’s skin. “So hungry.”

The shivers increased tenfold. Morgan felt his control slipping and struggled to hold on to it long enough to complete the Contract. “Then please feed, my lord.” His voice had grown husky as anticipatory tremors took hold of him.

Another caress of Colbourne’s rough tongue drew an exquisite shudder. Such an intimate act, followed by an even more intimate one as the piercing bite of sharp fangs penetrated his neck and withdrew. Hot lips formed a seal around the twin wounds, and Morgan felt his groin tighten with the intense sensation of his master drawing deeply of the crimson flow.

It shouldn’t be this way, Morgan’s hazed brain insisted. Despite this, the lust bubbling up was the same as always, driving him to the brink of madness as he fought the desire. Every time he offered his blood, the yearning to succumb, to yield more than he gave—every time, it grew stronger. He wanted what he denied Lord Colbourne, wanted the carnal touch the Church deemed sinful, longed for what the courts condemned with death.

He trembled at the strengthening draw, fighting the spiraling temptation. The ache in his loins increased with every passing minute, inflamed by the chemicals hidden within the nosferii fangs. His stomach tightened against the feeling as he strove to suppress the exhilaration racing through him, starting with the fanged kiss at his neck.

Morgan shivered as Colbourne laid a hand between his thighs, stroking him, caressing the erection he couldn’t suppress. A groan escaped Morgan as the pleasure increased tenfold.

In a flash, he found himself pinned against the futon. He jerked at the feel of Colbourne’s hand fumbling with the buttons of his breeches. Heat flooded him, running straight from the hot contact to the ecstatic draw of blood from his neck. Hot, shaking with need, he pressed himself against that warm palm, his mind a blaze of passion. Colbourne moaned into Morgan’s neck, sucking harder.

“Touch me…touch me please, Morgan.”

The words slipped into his mind, jarring him from his lust. He shoved hard at the man above him, desperately building a wall in front of the invading thought.

“Get out of my mind!” Frantic, Morgan lunged upward, thrusting Colbourne away from him and wincing at the sudden, tearing sting at his neck. He stumbled forward, pressing his hands to the wounds, attempting to stanch the flow of blood.

He didn’t finish feeding, a portion of his mind whispered. He didn’t finish, and now I’m going to bleed to death.

“Makoto!” Colbourne’s panicked voice beat on Morgan’s ears with the force of a drum. “Makoto! Tasukete!”

Footsteps drummed across the floor as Colbourne’s retainer responded. The room started fading at the edges, and Morgan blinked at the bedding wound about his feet. Arms like steel trapped him, holding him up but keeping him hostage.

“You damn idiot!” Despite the angry hiss of the words, Colbourne’s voice shook. “Hold still.”

Morgan struggled against the iron grip holding him fast, while his hands were wrenched away from his neck. Colbourne’s unyielding grip held his head as the vampire leaned in to bite a second time. The pain shattered the last wall of Morgan’s consciousness, blackness overtaking him at the penetrating sting of his master’s fangs.

* * * *

Jeremy stared at Morgan’s sleeping face, the tremors of angry fear finally subsiding. He’d never before lost control during a feeding. Never. He’d been taking blood from normal humans for more than three centuries, and not once had he ever insinuated his thoughts into an unwilling Host’s mind.

Host. Hostia. The cruel irony of the title struck Jeremy more forcibly than it had ever done before. Hostia, the victim. Centuries before, it had been a word to deny the humanity of those used as nothing more than a food supply. Now, it stood as a title of respect, of importance. Hosts themselves had made it so.

When Morgan had fought Jeremy, rending his flesh beneath Jeremy’s fangs, the true meaning of Hostia had resonated in the terror shining in Morgan’s eyes. It had cut Jeremy to the quick, flaying him with the knowledge of his transgression.

But Morgan had allowed him liberties he’d denied for a dozen years. Jeremy had been pushed over the edge of reason, and he’d reached out, succumbing to a longing he’d thought he’d safely buried.

He stroked the bandages wound about Morgan’s neck. The man’s power of will never ceased to amaze him. The nosferii mind connection had originally been a means of prey control. For anyone to break free and physically pull away, as Morgan had, took strength of mind not commonly found.

A shadow shifted behind him as Makoto entered the room, a laden dinner tray in his hands. Fresh cuts of red meat predominated, lightly seared but rich with the coppery smell of blood.

“Time to eat, danshaku,” the samurai said, setting the tray on the small table by the chair. “You did not feed enough. Please replenish your strength with this.”

Jeremy ignored the dark look, though he did reach for the glass of brandy. “It was sufficient. I do not need to dine early.”

“I respectfully disagree.” Makoto plated a modest portion of beef and fruit. “Will you call for another Host?” Despite the words, Makoto’s voice carried no disapprobation. “It may be weeks before Holland-san is able to meet his Contracted terms.”

“I will be ready when he is, Makoto,” Jeremy answered, loath to consider anyone else. “I can wait.”

“That would be most unwise, danshaku.”

“Perhaps, but I will wait, nonetheless.”

“As you wish, danshaku.” Makoto bowed and left the room, shutting the door noiselessly behind him.

“I have no need of another Host, do I, Morgan?” Jeremy posed the question aloud, more for his own reassurance rather than expecting his Host to wake and answer. “After all, you are my Hostia Aeternus, my Eternal Host.”

Jeremy looked at the brandy in his glass, staring at the deep burgundy liquid. Sweet, yes, the thick fluid was sweet and restorative, but it was not Morgan’s blood, which had called to him from the moment they met.

“No, no need at all.”

Available now:

Blood Sworn 1: Salva Me
Bacchanal Moonlight Mating Cruises Ticket 1: Siren’s Daughter
Storm Called
An Unintended Seduction
Challenged by Love 1: Caliban
Challenged by Love 2: Narcissus
Challenged by Love 3: Vulcan
Challenged by Love e-Boxed set

Posted in Books

Beyond Justice–Spotlight on Bianca Sommerland and Tibby Armstrong

Today, features best-selling, author Bianca Sommerland, sharing her latest release, Beyond Justice, which has been co-authored by Tibby Armstrong. This is book 2 in The Asylum Fight Cub series. Please enjoy the excerpt below, and you ‘ll find a promo for what’s next in the series, and a link to Bianca’s website. Happy Holidays to all readers and fans!

Excerpt:
Curtis’s expression darkened, flattening the peaks of his upper lip. He leaned in, to brush his thumb over Reed’s lower lip and examined the sticky residue. Brought it to his mouth and sucked it from his skin. Pushing away from the breakfast bar he went to flip his pancake onto his plate and returned. Tapped two fingers under Reed’s chin to close his mouth. “Eat up.”
Eat. Yeah. He should eat. Then his brain might start working again. He cut another big piece and focused on finishing his breakfast.
“So…” Considering his fork, Curtis chewed and swallowed. “You like the hardcore stuff, or you think it’s the only way to give up control?”
Blinking at the other man, Reed almost choked on the piece of pancake in his mouth. He ducked his head as his cheeks flamed. “Dude, me and you…we don’t talk about this stuff.”
Curtis frowned, head canted, seeming to rifle through his brain for some piece of information, then nodded when he found it. “No, I guess we haven’t. But if you want to, I don’t recall being told I’d be gelded for crossing that particular line.”
“I…” Reed set the tines of his fork against his lips, touching his tongue to it as he stared at the wall over Curtis’s shoulder. “I like letting the Dom decide. Once he does, the rest is easy. Never lasts long enough though.”
“Sounds like the headspace you’re after has very little to do with pain and everything to do with how long you’ve negotiated to give that control over.” Curtis met his stare, unflinching, pushed back his plate and leaned in on his forearm. “It’s not as easy as you’d think to maintain, but when done right it can be pretty amazing.”
Reed nodded slowly. “In case you missed it, I’m more trouble than any Dom wants to take on. But it’s better that way.” He shrugged, picked up his plate and Curtis’s, and brought them both to the sink. “I get to enjoy a bit of everything. And no one’s gotta deal with me being…too much.”
“Is that what’s rolling around in that pretty head of yours? That you’re either not enough or you’re too much?” Curtis had moved behind him. Close behind him. “From where I stand, you’re the Goldilocks of submissives, Reed, and anyone who makes you feel any less isn’t half the Dom you think they are.”
Curving his hands over the edge of the sink, Reed shook his head. He should not be having this conversation. Not with Curtis, of all people. He was still too messed up from the scene which had left him wide open and vulnerable. He’d gotten away from Kovit and Lawson without letting his issues bleed out all over them.
He had to find a way to do the same with Curtis.
His throat tightened as he let out a soft laugh. “I’m the perfect sub. For one night. That’s how I like it. You gotta stop seeing me as some poor…kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’m a big boy, Curtis.”
Curtis’s hand encircled Reed’s upper arm, tugging him around. “You think that’s what I’m thinking about right now? That you’re a kid? If so, I need to go to jail.”
“For what? You’ve been the perfect ‘Daddy’.” Reed really needed to shut up, but he’d already stepped over the clear line Curtis had drawn long ago. He couldn’t seem to retreat back to the place he’d been assigned that night he’d been dragged home. Covered in glitter, still feeling the rush from the eyes of the crowd on him as he’d danced. The heat that spilled through him when Curtis gave him that look brought him even higher. As though Reed had given those strangers what belonged to him. Reed’s jaw tensed. “If you’re talking about that one time that shall-not-be-discussed, it was a punishment. One Noah should’ve probably given me so you didn’t have it hanging on your conscience.”
Curtis’s eyes had closed partway through Reed’s speech, but they opened now. “I assure you, the pleasure was all mine, brat. And if you had a lick of sense, you’d stop baiting me to do it again now—because I’m certain you’d like to be able to sit in the next decade.” He lowered his lips to Reed’s ear. “I suggest you rethink some things about me, and about you. Because the next time you come to me wanting to be taken in hand, I will gladly oblige.”
Pushing away from the counter, he stepped back, giving Reed room to breathe.
Damn it, why did Curtis have to go and say…all of that today? Today, when Reed had no idea what to do with the implication of his words. Eyes burning, he hugged himself. The very thing he’d wanted more than anything, right there, while the marks from another man still covered him.
“Shit.” Curtis swore softly, reached for him and pulled him in. Cheek resting on Reed’s head, he sighed. “I don’t know how it is I keep fucking up with you but trust me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you.” He laughed, a rough sound. “Not like that. I miss you and me. So, yeah. You name what you want—what you need—and I’ll try to be that for you. But…” Leaning back, he brushed Reed’s forehead with his lips. “Try to remember, I’m fighting with one hand tied behind my back.”
He really didn’t get it. But maybe that was Reed’s fault too.
Tracing his tongue over his bottom lip, he tipped his head back. Despite the pain, having Curtis’s arms around him felt good. Like all the broken pieces were being held together by the other man’s strength, so he didn’t have to cling to them alone.
His lips curved slightly. “You might wanna figure out how to untie it then, ‘cause I’m not gonna ask.” He met Curtis’s eyes. “You’ll know.”
Curtis’s gaze dipped, his attention fixating on Reed’s mouth. Unwrapping his arms from Reed’s body, he brought one hand to the lip of the counter and the other to cup Reed’s face. Lowered his mouth with excruciating care and whispered, “I’m going to hell” against Reed’s lips.
Reed grinned, flicking his tongue over Curtis’s bottom lip. “Not quite yet.”

Excited? Like what you’ve read? Here is the promo for the next novel in the series, Flawed Justice.

More from Bianca Sommerland: http://www.asylumfightclub.com/

Posted in Books

Coming Soon: Practical Difficulties (Lady Troubles 2)

For today, here is an excerpt from my upcoming novella, ‘Practical Difficulties’. This is installment two in the ‘Lady Troubles’ saga. Below is the novella description and an excerpt for readers to enjoy. When finished, my latest work will be available to buy on www.changelingpress.com

Maxine, a trans male-to-female werewolf, is struggling to get beyond her grief over the losses she suffered in her past. Now her mate, Sonya, is pregnant. When Maxine’s ghosts rise to break the new lovers apart, they have more help than they need from her pack.

Sonya’s starting to wonder whether Maxine’s loyalties lie with the wolf pack she’s been with for decades, or with her new mate. It’s beginning to look like sabotage from all quarters. How can a new couple stay together, especially with pups on the way?

Excerpt:

Practical Difficulties (Lady Troubles 2)
Emily Carrington
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Sonya Johnson stared at her clean pad, scowling at its whiteness against the cocoa dark of her thigh and the pale mauve of her panties. Her period should have started four days ago. Granted, she’d stopped taking her birth control after she’d forgotten to take it for three days back in late September. But was it too much to ask that her slip wouldn’t bring on pregnancy? She was a damned doctoral student and working a full-time job.

“Please, God,” she whispered. “Let it just be late. I do not have time for this right now.”

She shivered as a blast of air conditioning rushed across the back of her neck. Maybe it was time to grow her hair out and screw the cuteness of her current kinky-haired bob.

I’m a medical technician. I know enough about the human body to get this message: either stress is delaying my menstrual cycle, or I’m pregnant.

She cursed her mate before she could stop herself.

Sonya sighed, flushed the toilet, and pulled up her panties and shorts. It wasn’t Maxine’s fault, even if she was a trans werewolf and still had a dick. They’d both thought Sonya’s pill would take care of things. They’d briefly discussed using condoms too, but Sonya privately thought at the time that that was overkill. Maxine liked teasing herself with a condom now and then, but as a form of birth control, they were weren’t all that reliable.

They only succeed sixty percent of the time… but maybe I should have banked on that extra sixty percent.

She made an exasperated noise, very quietly.

The only thing that is Maxine’s fault, partially at least, is how infrequently I see her.

She’d long ago stopped tripping over the idea of calling Maxine, a male-to-female transgender werewolf, “she.” Not even thinking of her mate’s cock, as she did often while masturbating, could cause her confusion. Maxine was so utterly female, mind and spirit, that male genitals couldn’t change her essential nature.

Sonya walked into the bedroom she and her mate shared and went to her side of the wall-length closet. She took off the striped shirt she’d been wearing and put on a sweater with a cowl neck. It was a soft orange that complemented her medium brown skin tone and had the added bonus of clinging to her curves in all the right places.

Too bad Maxine isn’t here to appreciate it. She sighed noisily and then covered her mouth and glanced around, almost expecting half a dozen werewolves to pop out of the woodwork and ask her what was wrong. She kept her SearchLight-won shields in place most of the time, and her lips shut almost as much, but she still felt as if the whole darn pack could read her like a book.

Those shields were something she’d picked up at the academy in DC, learning them from the parapsychology teacher. She didn’t use them much at work, at least not when she was relaxed and in her own domain — the medtech department. But with all the psychic powers boasted by the members of her new eros pack, she felt on edge if her mind wasn’t guarded.

Shaking her head, grimacing as she thought of how paranoid she’d gotten over the past two weeks, Sonya headed into the living room to sit at the desk Maxine had bought her as a mating ceremony present back in late September. It was now the first week of October and she did not need to be worrying about pregnancy when her first dissertation defense was happening in less than seven days and she hadn’t seen her mate for more than a few minutes at a time since they consummated their relationship.

And while that was the worst of it, not being with her mate, her third problem was almost as pressing: three of the werewolves in her new pack were openly hostile toward her. Oh, not where Maxine, who outranked all of them, could see, but whenever they caught Sonya alone…

Oh, stop thinking about it all in such negative terms. They’re just pests. And as for Maxine, she sleeps here every night she’s in town, doesn’t she? You’ve made love four times so far. That’s good for two weeks’ worth of living together, isn’t it?

Well, actually, no. Sonya had gotten the impression from listening to her friend, Luke, talk about his early relationship with his husband that sex every day wasn’t uncommon. In fact, the only time her genie and dragon friends hadn’t managed sex at least three or four times a week was when Mark, the dragon half of the pairing, was in crisis.

Was Maxine in crisis?

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Upcoming book from Anne Kane Running From the Cyborg

Cover of Running From The Cyborg

Running from the Cyborg
(Terras Five – Book Five)
By Anne Kane
Genres: Sci –Fi, Cyborgs, romance

Blurb:
She can run but she can’t hide from the sexy cyborg who has her in his sights.

Caitlyn: Gorgeous. Feisty. Human. A survivor in an unforgiving galaxy. Running from an enemy she can’t see for reasons she doesn’t understand. Whoever he is, he’s trying to kill her.

Jakob: Large. Mouthwateringly sexy. Loyal. Cyborg. Determined to find the female who seduced him, gave him a night he’d never forget, then disappeared before he woke. When he finally manages to catch up to her, he intends to do whatever it takes to keep her at his side.

Excerpt:
She whirled to face Jakob, raising one hand to cover her mouth. Wouldn’t do to have him see how happy she was to be cornered by his big muscular self.
Jakob slid to a stop just inside the doorway and leaned casually against the metal frame. His eyes danced with a mixture of lust and mirth as he lifted one brow to study her. “Tag? Don’t you think I’ve wasted enough time chasing you back and forward across the galaxy? You want me to chase you around my ship as well?”
Caitlyn sauntered across the room, striving to look casual. “I don’t see why not. Don’t you think the prize is worth the effort?”
“The prize?” Jakob pushed himself off the wall, stalking toward her. “ I didn’t realize you were offering yourself up as a prize if I caught you. I would have put more effort into the chase had I known.” He reached her side and cupped the back of her head in one large hand, tilting it up so that he could gaze directly into her eyes.
“Umm…” She didn’t manage to get out more than that strangled exclamation before his mouth descended, scorching a kiss across her lips. A soft whimper escaped her lips as he stole her breath away, his tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth with the intimate ease of a longtime lover. Damn, but he knew how to silence her with a single kiss.
He tasted good, so damn good she wanted more. Winding an arm around his neck, she drew his head down to her level.
His hands dropped to her ass, pulling her in close against him as the kiss deepened from sensual to demanding. She could feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing into her belly, and the knowledge that he wanted her that much fueled her own lust.
Damn! This was so not good.
She wanted him. Craved him, craved his touch. The timing sucked. She could not afford to be distracted from the need to survive.
Jakob swore softly, his hands going to her shirt. He fumbled with the closure for a long moment before grasping the edges in his hands and ripping the material right down the middle.
Her breasts spilled out into his waiting hands, and she whimpered as his rough palms swiped across the sensitive nipples. It felt good. So good. Too good
Surely a little dalliance while they were en route wouldn’t matter?
Cyborgs didn’t do forever, she reminded herself.
She seized the closure at the top of his flight suit, pulling it down with a quick jerk of her hand. The soft whir of the mechanism filled the room as the material parted. She slid her hand inside, palm flat against the tight muscles of his chest.
So hard. So male. So damn tempting.
She moved her hand lower, pushing the fabric out of her way. Lower. Across the hard planes of his abs. Down.
He shrugged, and the top of the flight suit fell away from his shoulders leaving him bare to the hips.
She gave the flight suit one last tug, and it pooled around his ankles.
His cock burst free, arcing proudly up from its nest of thick curls. Caitlyn wrapped her fingers around the hard shaft.
So thick. So long. It pulsed eagerly in her hand.
Dropping to her knees, she took him into her mouth and ran her tongue around the mushroom shaped head, savoring the musky male taste.
Jakob tangled his fingers in her hair and let out a low growl. “Damn, Caitlyn. You are enough to drive a cyborg insane. You know just what to do to make me forget how pissed off I am.”
Yeah. She really did. For just this tiny bit of time she felt totally in control, and it felt good. Great, actually.
She glided her head up and down his rigid shaft, enjoying the sounds of his arousal, the little groans and growls that slipped out of his lips.
She reached up to cup his balls, squeezing gently, tugging just a little, teasing him with her fingers.
Control. Yeah. When most of your life felt like a total mess, control was a drug she craved almost as much as she craved this big idiot.
“Enough.” His voice was hoarse, edgy with need as he pulled himself out of her mouth and pulled her to her feet. His lips came down on hers, harsh and demanding.
She gave back as good as she got, her tongue darting between his parted lips to let him taste himself on her.
He grunted loudly and brought his hands up to push impatiently at the fabric of her pants. They skimmed down over her hips, and Caitlyn kicked them off and to the side.
Jakob slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her off her feet. She dangled helplessly in the air, her back scraping against the cold metal of the wall. He recaptured her mouth as he slowly lowered her onto his hard shaft.
Oh, sweet mother of the universe!
Caitlyn wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles behind him as he began to move his hips , using his cybernetic strength to hold her up off the ground as he thrust his cock deep.

AuthorBio and Links
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog who’s breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then she had published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.

Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.

You can find Anne around the web at:
Ann’s Website

Anne’s Blog

Anne’s Twitter

Anne’s FacebookGood Reads

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Buy the book at B&N

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Review of One of Two

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Title: One of Two

By: S.R. Cronin

Genre: Sci-fi/Fantasy

Blurb: Telepathy creates as many problems as it solves, as most of the members of the secret organization x0 would admit. When new member Lola discovers another group of telepaths with a completely different approach, those problems multiply at the speed of thought.

Soon, Lola’s family and friends are in danger. Lucky for her, she’s not your average budding psychic. Each person with whom she is close has a special gift of their own. That’s good, because it’s going to take every power they possess to keep this other group from succeeding with their plan to eradicate x0.

Extract: Maurice woke up in the trunk of a car. He’d always been a positive sort of guy, so he made himself focus on what was good about the situation. Well, it was a large trunk. It was probably a luxury car. Could have been worse. And, he was the only person in it. Plenty of space and no unpleasant dead bodies lying next to him. He’d seen this sort of thing in the movies, and no dead bodies was always good.

His hands were bound loosely behind his back, but he could wiggle his legs around for comfort and there was no duct tape over his mouth, so breathing was easier. Better yet, it felt like he’d been drugged, presumably in his sleep, and the lingering effects were effusing him with such a nice sense of serenity.

On the down side, the wall that x0 was holding around him was as impermeable as ever. And he was in the trunk of a car. That was definitely a minus. He drifted back to sleep.

Review: I am giving this book 4.5 stars. This novel is full of action and the many buses of their talents. Each character has their own personalities, and the strength of their talents. I also enjoyed thee fact that the world is just like our current world, and yet peple
have different talents that need to be hidden. Many books that have people with talent are located in a different world. You can’t help but feel sorry for the characters as they are kidnapped, escape, and then other members of the family are kidnapped.

The villain has a perfect reason to kidnap the two telepaths as he wants to keep his mind hidden from his colleagues.
In the novel it also shows that if a type of groups with people with differences. It shows that everyone needs to work together and there should be no secrets in a family or group.

During thier adventures, each family members finds out that their talents are more diversified then they imagined. There are several points o views that are used, the author will concentrate one chapter and we hear their thought and see what they see. This is masterfully handled as it can get confusing when you switch from point of view to point of view.

The only thing that I would have changed is the length of the novel. There could have been less chapters if they had a little less kidnappings. I was not happy with the way Warren was punished.

If you enjoy listening to people do everything they can for the survival of the family members, drama, and action this is a perfect book for you.

Giveaway Information and RaffleCopter Code: S.R. Cronin will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC + a kindle gift copy of Flickers of Fortune, book 5 in the 46. Ascending collection to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Click here to enter: Enter to win a $10 Amazon/BN GC + a book – a Rafflecopter giveaway

Author Bio and Links:
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Sherrie Roth grew up in Western Kansas thinking there was no place in the universe more fascinating than outer space. After her mother vetoed astronaut as a career ambition, she went on to study journalism and physics in hopes of becoming a science writer.

She published her first science fiction short story and then waited a lot of tables while she looked for inspiration for the next tale. When it finally came, it declared to her it had to be a whole book, nothing less. One night, while digesting this disturbing piece of news, she drank way too many shots of ouzo with her boyfriend. She woke up thirty-one years later demanding to know what was going on.

The boyfriend, who she had apparently long since married, asked her to calm down. He explained that, in a fit of practicality, she had gone back to school and gotten a degree in geophysics and had spent the last 28 years interpreting seismic data in the oil industry. The good news, according to Mr. Cronin, was she found it at least mildly entertaining and ridiculously well-paying. The bad news was the two of them had still managed to spend almost all of the money.

Apparently she was now Mrs. Cronin, and the further good news was they had produced three wonderful children whom they loved dearly, even though to be honest that is where a lot of the money had gone. Even better news was that Mr. Cronin turned out to be a warm-hearted, encouraging sort who was happy to see her awake and ready to write. “It’s about time,” were his exact words.

Sherrie Cronin discovered that over the ensuing decades Sally Ride had already managed to become the first woman in space and done a fine job of it. No one, however, had written the book that had been in Sherrie’s head for decades. The only problem was the book informed her it had grown into a six book collection. Sherrie decided she better start writing before it got any longer. She’s been wide awake ever since, and writing away.

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Blogs:
46 ascending
Face Painting for World Peace
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Email me at lola.zeitman@gmail.com

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Coming Soon: RENEGADE (DEVIL’S BONEYARD MC)

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Release Date: September 2019

My past taught me family means pain.
I don’t want one, other than my club.
But fate has other plans.
Darby: At fifteen, I thought I knew everything. Having been in foster care all my life, not much scared me. I’d already faced monsters parading around as upstanding citizens. But life hadn’t prepared me for a biker who would lure me in, kidnap me, and abuse me for five years. I got Fawn out of it, my precious girl, and a lot of bad memories. Being tossed into a dumpster and left to die wasn’t at the top of my list, but Renegade found me. I’ve never had a man be kind to me or my daughter before — especially not a biker — and I’m not sure what to think. I want to trust him, but I don’t want to give him my heart only to have him turn out like every other man I’ve ever known. It would break me.
Renegade: I lost my family a long time ago, and I vowed I’d never have another. I still have Nikki, my baby sis, and that’s enough. My club is a family, but that’s different. I trust them, and in my own way I love them, but it’s not the same as having a wife and kids. I’ll never go down that path. Then I found Fawn and her mother, Darby, thrown away like unwanted trash. Yeah, Fate’s laughing her ass off right now. They’re in my home, and slowly worming their way under my skin. Hearing their story is enough to make my blood boil and send rage flooding through me. I’ll exact revenge for all they’ve suffered, and then they’ll truly be free, able to move on without fear of being taken again. Except… I might not want to let them go.
WARNING: This story contains violence, bad language, and really hot sex. While there are abuse themes, nothing is told in great detail.

Check it out at Good Reads

Coming to Changeling Presson September 6th
And on online retails September 13th.

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ABOUT HARLEY WYLDE…
International Best Selling Author!
Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

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Posted in Books

Review of Ambush in the Everglades

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Title: Ambush in the Everglades

By: Petie McCarty

GENRE: Romantic Suspense

Blurb: Plenty of action-adventure in this romantic-suspense tale. Photographer Kayli Heddon is given the biggest assignment of her career—a photo essay on the Everglades Restoration—and a special airboat safari is arranged, so Kayli can get her pictures. What she doesn’t count on is being stranded alone in the Everglades with her handsome and unpredictable airboat guide. Kayli is forced to learn some tough lessons. Trust means everything in the dangerous River of Grass, and a skilled partner makes all the difference in your survival.

Skye Landers takes the airboat safari gig as a favor to his cousin who is called out of town. Skye doesn’t expect the governor’s photographer to catch his eye, but Kayli Heddon is unlike any woman he has ever met. He knows he should keep his distance, but common sense flies out the window whenever she gets near.

Unfortunately, Kayli thinks honesty is the most important thing in a relationship—any relationship—and Skye Landers is a fraud. When secrets surface from his past, Kayli and Skye are soon on the run from more than just alligators

Excerpt: Leaping over palmettos and tree roots and dodging half-buried cypress knees, they raced for their boat as the whine in the distance grew louder. Kayli recognized the whine as a second airboat. She couldn’t stop running if she wanted to, Skye had a death grip on her hand.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she shouted, “and why are we running?”

Twenty more yards, and they reached the airboat. The approaching craft sounded closer by the second.

He dropped her hand to grab the bow line. “Get in the boat,” he ordered.

She stopped dead. “No.”

He whipped around with a fearsome glare.

“Not until you tell me why we’re running.”

This was so unlike the man she’d come to know over the last two days at close quarters. He looked . . . well, scared.

“Crane Tennapin is on his way here with drug runners to make a pick up.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “Who is Crane Tennapin?”

“Another cousin, now let’s go.” He pushed on the bow of the airboat. “I’ve got to get you out of here. I’ll leave you at Sally’s.”

“I’m staying with you.”

“You can’t. I have to come back to help Crane.”

The whine grew louder and closer.

She froze. “You’re coming back to help a drug dealer?”

“Hell no!” he roared and softened his voice when she flinched. “Crane’s in over his head. He got mixed up with the Colombians before he knew about the drugs. Now they’re threatening to turn him in if he doesn’t help them with this drop.”

He motioned her over and held out a hand. “Come on, come on.”

“What if you don’t get back in time?” She couldn’t believe she wasn’t scrambling into the airboat.

He had her by the shoulders in two steps and stared hard in her eyes. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

The emotion in his voice wrapped around her heart like long tentacles, and she couldn’t pull free. She didn’t want to.

Her arms flew around his neck, and Skye crushed her to his chest, his mouth hard against hers. A flood of emotion rifled through her unlike anything she’d ever felt in her life. She wanted to fold her soul into his and never let him go. She had wanted this can’t-let-you-go kiss from the moment she laid eyes on Skye. She wanted the kiss to last forever.

Precious seconds were squandered. The airboat whine grew louder, and his head jerked up.

“Damn.”

“There’s no time to get me out.”

No way would she leave him, not with drug runners coming. She might never see him again.

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “You have to trust me.”

She nodded. “What’re you going to do?”

“Sink the airboat.”

Review: I’m giving this novel 5 stars as it draws you in and doesn’t let you go until the end. The Characters are extremely well developed with wonderfully described scenery that makes it feel like you are traveling along with Sky and Kayli. The plot holds your attention and is well paced. There are actually two plots going on at the same time. The first one is Kayli and Sky’s developing relationship and Kayli’s mission to gather the beauty of the everglades with photos. The other plot involves his cousin Crane who became entangled with delivering drugs from the Colombia mafia’s Both plots end up converging on the secret island that Wren lived on.

Kayli is a strong woman who has overcome tragedies in her life. Both of her parents died when she was young but not before they installed the love of the environment and the everglades especially. She was raised by her father’s best friend who becomes the governor of Florida. She doesn’t want many people to know about that connection since that may cause favoritism. She is assigned a task from the governor to take pictures of the everglades to help him pass a new bill to help the everglades and protect it from the sugar plantations.

Sky Landers is half Seminole Indian and half-Spanish who also lost his mother and has a rocky relationship with his father. He was taken under his uncle Wren’s protection and he teaches Sky all the secret places in the everglades and how to survive for weeks at a time.

Family is the most precious thing to him and he is very close to his cousins Jimmy and Crane. In fact, he is taking the tour for Jimmy since he was helping to replace a roof.

When Kayli meets Sky, sparks fly between them and also a great deal of frustration and anger. Sky hasn’t had such a reaction for a female and he isn’t sure how to handle all the emotions swirling inside him. Kayli also finds herself drawn to Sky and tries not to show how much he captivates her.

It’s rather funny watching their interactions in the beginning of the tour. They banter back and forth and try to up-one each other. For example, Sky dumps Kayli into the river and she ends up covered in leeches, which made her hysterical as she hates bugs. Both of them are stubborn and Kayli uses anger to try to push away her feelings for him. One thing that drives Sky crazy is having to follow Kayli’s directions as he is usually the one in charge.

To make things even worse, Kayli has been saddled with Brad, who is a member of the governor’s entourage, who thinks he is her boyfriend. I liked watching Sky’s reaction to Brad as he thinks Kayli deserves better. Poor Brad is not equipped for the outdoors with several instances that made me laugh out loud. One of my favorites is when he falls overboard and panics trying to get out of the water. He causes all sort of embarrassment for her. The rest of the traveling group also do not like him as he has no outdoor experience. A great example of this is when they allowed Brad to stay in a shelter with mosquito netting with holes, causing him to be covered in bug bites.

Things go downhill fast when Sky’s cousin Crane is forced to take two members of the Columbian mafia to a well-hidden island. Jimmy, Sky’s other cousin, goes after him in his own airboat. Kayli shows her courage when she doesn’t want to leave Sky alone to fight the mafia.

I enjoyed this book with its beauty, and love. It shows how family is important and those that we thought had left us behind are still there to help us at the most important times. It also shows how important the environment and if we don’t protect it there may not be around for our futures.

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Authour Bio and Links
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Petie spent a large part of her career working at Walt Disney World—”The Most Magical Place on Earth”—where she enjoyed working in the land of fairy tales by day and creating her own romantic fairy tales by night, including her new series, The Cinderella Romances. She eventually said good-bye to her “day” job to write her stories full-time. These days Petie spends her time writing sequels to her regency time-travel series, Lords in Time, and her cozy-mystery-with-romantic-suspense series, the Mystery Angel Romances.

Petie shares her home on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee with her horticulturist husband and an opinionated Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in No Angels for Christmas.

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