Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone) by Michelle Rabe @michrabe #Paranormal #Fantasy


The Assassin’s voice boomed through the closed double doors to the study for the fifth time since he’d entered the room with Morgan’s Blood Sons, almost five hours before.  Marcus cringed as the doors were flung open, and Nicholas strode out, rage radiating from every inch of his six–foot, four–inch frame. Storm–gray eyes landed on Marcus, narrowed to slits, and he stalked past, commanding him to follow with an imperious wave of his right hand. Not wanting to piss the Assassin off more, Marcus bit back a snide comment, and followed him up the sweeping staircase to the mansion’s upper floors.

“Damn it all to hell, Old Man!” Nicholas roared as he began pacing the landing at the top of the stairs. He wanted Marcus to throw himself against his temper to take the edge off.

Ye Gods, Marcus thought, we’ve done this more times than I’d care to count in the centuries we’ve known one another, but this is different. Well, something other than the fact that we’ve barely spoken a civil word to one another in almost two hundred years.

“I take it the boys couldn’t add anything to what we already knew. In spite of the almost five hour interrogation?” Marcus asked, fighting to rein in his own temper, leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs.

“Five hours?” Nicholas stopped moving. He turned to Marcus, meeting his eyes. The other vampire nodded.  “It was really that long?”

“Yes. What’s next, Assassin?” Marcus asked, letting some of the frustration he felt give his voice a hard edge. The last thing they needed right now was for Nicholas to go soft.

“We can’t do anything before the sun sets,” he said, after giving Marcus a long, appraising look.
He’s assessed my well–being and decided I’m not fit for the field. I’ve seen that look too many times before and know better than to argue with him, Marcus thought, trying to work out a logical counter argument.

“I haven’t slept.” Nicholas sighed. “You look like death warmed over and those two are rattled.” He nodded toward the room where he’d left the younger vampires.

“Fine.” Marcus nodded. “I took the liberty of having my staff get us some SUVs. If Morgan’s alive, she’s going to need fresh blood. We’re going to need the extra room.” Marcus was almost certain that he didn’t have to mention that, but the desperate look in Nicholas’s eyes led him to believe that there was no such thing as being too careful in this situation.

“She has to be alive, Marcus.”

“We’ll find her.” Marcus answered, feeling like an ass for lying. We both know that the odds suck. This could be nothing more than trying to find her body. Gods, whoever did this is going to pay.
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” the Assassin muttered, looking through Marcus. Nicholas’s mind was turning over what he knew, making connections and searching for others.

“How so?” Marcus asked, prompting Nicholas to think aloud, knowing it helped him make connections he otherwise missed, and it gave Marcus the opportunity to make a few as well.

“The security footage Danny sent over from the club’s parking lot shows Morgan and her attackers, but never their faces.”

“The club has cameras outside?”

“Apparently one of the human staff had some trouble right after the club opened. Morgan had them installed after that.”

“They could have scoped out the cameras. Not too difficult when you know what to look for,” Marcus muttered, his brows drawn together. “Why didn’t anyone see her being attacked, if it was caught on camera? Why are we just learning about this now? Just because she somehow jacked my mind and knocked me flat on my ever–loving ass.” Marcus’s words sped up as he continued, agitation given voice.

“The footage is stored on massive hard drives but not reviewed unless an incident is reported. Since no one reported her disappearance…” Nicholas’s voice trailed off.

“I have a feeling Morgan will be revising that policy when she returns.”

“If she returns.”
Michelle Rabe

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Genre - Paranormal Urban Fantasy
Rating – PG-13
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Fool for Love by Merry Farmer @MerryFarmer20 #Romance #Historical #Fiction

The Majestic rose up out of the water in its Liverpool dock with all the glory of its name.  Amelia held one hand to her hat and stared at its iron sides, its two dun-colored funnels and three tall masts.  The ship was a strange thing to her, a mixture of old and new, progress with hints of the past.  It had sails that could be unfurled in a pinch, but with its powerful new engines, the ship could cross the ocean in a week.

Seven days to a new world.  It was an exact description of everything her life had become.  It was
every bit as daunting.

“What am I doing?” Amelia whispered, staring at the hopeful monstrosity in front of her.  It was one thing to accept an offer for a new life.  It was another thing entirely to go through with it.

She turned away from the ship, swallowing the nausea that had plagued her since she’d left her mother’s house.  This time it wasn’t morning sickness.  That was long past.  At the moment, the baby was the least of her worries.  Her stomach rolled over the idea that she was about to board a ship heading for a new life at the mercy of a stranger, a man, no less.  The last time she had trusted her life and her future to a man had been a disaster.

She paced, purse clutched to her chest, scanning the busy dock in search of her American savior.  Men, women, and children crowded the gangplanks, eager to start their journeys, excited and hopeful.  Many of the third-class passengers carried bundles that indicated theirs was a one-way trip as much as hers was.  Eric had left her there to go buy her ticket, but there was nothing stopping him from running off and leaving her stranded.  Like her father.  Like Nick.  She was a fool to agree to this.  She pivoted and marched away from the ship.

No, she stopped herself after a handful of steps, this was the best decision she could have made.  She may have felt small and lonely standing by herself, waiting, heart and stomach fluttering, but she was as much a part of the intrepid adventurers seeking a new life in America as any of her fellow passengers.  This was right.


“Well, we got a minor problem on our hands.”

The twang of Eric’s accent shocked Amelia from her worries.  She spun to face him as he approached her with wide strides, scratching his head and looking as guilty as a schoolboy.

“A problem?” she asked, voice fluttering.

“Yeah.  I went to buy you a ticket, but they’re plumb sold out.”

Amelia’s chest tightened and her tender stomach lurched.  “Oh.  Oh dear.  Well I suppose….”
She lowered her eyes, heart aquiver.  As quickly as it started, her chance for a new life was over.  All that worrying for nothing.

She squared her shoulders to face her fate.  “I … I thank you for your efforts on my behalf regardless, Mr. Quinlan.”

Eric’s brow crinkled into a curious frown.  “Regardless?”

“I suppose I could find work here in Liverpool,” she explained.  “Surely there must be a shop somewhere that would look the other way from….”  She lowered her hand to the mound of her stomach.

Eric’s lips twitched.  The morning sunlight caught in his eyes.  “I didn’t want to have to put you in third-class, so I told them you were my wife.”

Amelia blinked.  “You what?”

“I told them we’re newlyweds.  I reserved my stateroom in first class last year when I came over.  Good thing I paid for it then too, ‘cuz after this fiasco of a trip I’ll never ride first-class again.  Anyhow, when they said they didn’t have any more rooms, I told them you were my wife and that we would be staying in the same stateroom.  They sold me a ticket for that.”  He handed her a fresh, clean ticket with her name written as ‘Mrs. Amelia Quinlan’.  “Sorry.”

Amelia held perfectly still on the outside, but on the inside her heart pounded and her stomach rolled with guilt for questioning him.  He wasn’t abandoning her.  He had gone out of his way to help her.  Her heart squeezed as it never had before.  She took the ticket from him with a trembling hand, hardly noticing when her fingers brushed his.  She was rescued after all.

“Thank you, Mr. Quinlan.  You have no idea how much this kindness means to me.”  She had to concentrate on breathing, standing straight, and looking up into his handsome eyes with a smile to keep her tears at bay.

“You don’t mind sharing then?” he asked her.


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Genre – Western Historical Romance
Rating – R
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LICHGATES (Grimoire Saga) - Book 1 by S.M. Boyce #Excerpt #Fantasy #MustRead

The woman’s grip tightened. “Braeden Drakonin, listen closely to me. I am not fond of your father. Had you not defied him in his own court, we would have left you. But mark me, yakona. If you betray our trust, death will become a mercy before I am done with you.”
“I get that a lot. But yes, I understand.”
She released him. Her blade disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. She grimaced at him as if she smelled something foul, but snapped her fingers. His shackles fell to the ground.
He grabbed his wrists and sank to the mossy grass in relief, too exhausted to thank her or to wonder how she’d done it. The black pools of his wounds knit themselves together, but the process was slow. They congealed and bubbled, the poison resisting his body as it mended itself. His half-healed jaw grafted, but the internal sting of broken veins persisted. Muscles wove themselves back together.
Bones popped as they finally slid back into place. The poison continued to circulate as his body tried to heal around it, and it would be hours before no scars remained. Even then, the internal tremors would continue.
He examined the shifter-woman. Her pale blond hair fell to her waist, where it rolled out in small curls. Patches of copper in her tan skin glistened in the sun. Her piercing blue eyes crinkled in an expression of annoyance.
“You two are drenowith. Muses,” he said.
“I thought you were just myths.”
“As we prefer. I’m Adele, and this is Garrett.”
She gestured toward the other muse. He had rusty hair, the color of embers in a fire, but his skin was the same coppery shade as Adele’s.
Garrett released his grip on Kara’s shoulder. She ran to Braeden and knelt beside him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said. “Thank you.”
Kara turned to Adele. “How did you undo his shackles? I thought only the person who put them on could take them off.”
“We are above yakona laws, young Vagabond.”
“Well, thank you for saving us, then.”
“The first Vagabond was our friend, to whom we owed a debt. It’s now paid. What is your name?”
“Kara. So you’re muses, huh? All the letter said about you is that you’re shape-shifters. Can you become anything?”
“Anything we imagine,” Garret said.
Braeden tried to avoid looking at the muse he’d been ordered to kill.
Kara shook her head. “This is insane. So, you knew the Vagabond and you obviously don’t age. Are you immortal?”
“Not immortal,” Adele corrected. “While we don’t grow old, we can die. Everything is mortal, even Earth.”

“The writing is flawless. The kingdoms and surrounding landscapes breathtaking. The Grimoire is a piece of imaginative genius that bedazzles from the moment Kara falls into the land of Ourea. – Nikki Jefford, author of the Spellbound Trilogy
Spring 2013 Rankings
#6 Kindle Store | #1 Science Fiction & Fantasy | #1 Epic Fantasy | #1 Sword & Sorcery | #1 Teens
Now an international Amazon bestseller. Fans of The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Eragon will enjoy this contemporary remix of the classic epic fantasy genre.
Kara Magari is about to discover a beautiful world full of terrifying things: Ourea.
Kara, a college student still reeling from her mother’s recent death, has no idea the hidden world of Ourea even exists until a freak storm traps her in a sunken library. With nothing to do, she opens an ancient book of magic called the Grimoire and unwittingly becomes its master, which means Kara now wields the cursed book’s untamed power. Discovered by Ourea’s royalty, she becomes an unwilling pawn in a generations-old conflict – a war intensified by her arrival. In this world of chilling creatures and betrayal, Kara shouldn’t trust anyone… but she’s being hunted and can’t survive on her own. She drops her guard when Braeden, a native soldier with a dark secret, vows to keep her safe. And though she doesn’t know it, her growing attraction to him may just be her undoing.
For twelve years, Braeden Drakonin has lived a lie. The Grimoire is his one chance at redemption, and it lands in his lap when Kara Magari comes into his life. Though he begins to care for this human girl, there is something he wants more. He wants the Grimoire.
Welcome to Ourea, where only the cunning survive.
Novels in the Grimoire Saga:
Lichgates (#1)
Treason (#2)
Heritage (#3) – Available Fall 2013
Illusion (#4) – Available Fall 2014
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Genre – Fantasy
Rating – PG13
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BIRTH OF AN ASSASSIN by @Stone_Rik #AmReading #Thriller #Crime

Jez turned his head and saw jeeps stacked up one behind the other, coming at him. They were equipped for combat with mounted mortar cannon and sub-machine guns rigged on the integral bases behind the front seats. The heads of soldiers bobbed behind mortar blast protectors as the vehicles maneuvered over snowdrifts. He couldn’t tell how many vehicles, but seeing them fan out and fire, the number no longer seemed relevant.
He ran. He wanted to drop the ski jacket to quicken his pace, but he’d lose his weapons. The only thing he could do was wind in his head and race flat out. WHUMP! A mortar shell exploded 50 meters forward and to the right of his position. Shrapnel whizzed by, and though he could hear it, he felt nothing. He hadn’t been hit. He crouched lower, but the rabbit-skin hat fell off. No time to pick it up. Stop for nothing. With the rifles set to automatic, they traced straight black lines in the snow on either side of him and then swept horizontally across his horizon – Kalashnikov AKMs. They didn’t quite have him in their sights, but they would get there soon enough.
Not safe running in a straight line, he zigzagged, sacrificing distance for evasive tactics. Even so, it wouldn’t take them long to get a bead on him. He looked ahead for anything that might impede his progress, and saw a murder of crows take to the air on the opposite side of the nearest hill. If only he could join them, he thought. Instead, he ran a short distance to the left and then a longer distance to the right, on occasion reversing the strategy so as not to reveal a pattern.
WHUMP! WHUMP! One after another, mortar shells exploded; and while Jez’s evasive actions proved successful, progress slowed. The jeeps occasionally stopped to drop-blast their mortar shells more accurately, but it didn’t stop them gaining ground.
Clearly, while the snow slowed him, it had no such effect on the pursuit vehicles. They would catch him before he could get to the hills. He had to make a stand. WHUMP! A shell exploded 30 meters ahead. That would do, fight from the mortar’s footprint, die like a soldier. He ran towards it. The jeeps closed in. WHUMP! Another explosion – and it was in the same hollow he was headed for. He ran in the opposite direction to make them realign their weapons.
The aim moved. Shells exploded away from the crater, so he veered back and got close enough to jump. Any other time of year the landing would have been soft, but now solid ground jarred his bones as he made contact with the fissure’s base. The earth moved and rumbled, feet banged against brittle crust that cracked and broke beneath him. A thin layer of earth had been all that remained after the two explosions and Jez crashed through the crater into another hole.
He dropped the depth of the first hollow and through into the hole below. But he couldn’t see out to shoot. If his life hadn’t been about to end he might have laughed. Too low to make a stand, he would have to… but just a minute, what was that? He wasn’t in a hole, but a pothole, a chance, a slim chance, but a chance.
He pulled the landfall aside, squeezed through and scrambled along the tunnel in a direction in line with the hills. The cave got bigger. He could stand up straight. He started running again, and half a minute carried him 100 meters in. WHUMP! Grit and soil blasted along the chasm behind him, stung his legs, back and buttocks as fragments struck. They’d realigned a fix on the crater too soon. It had to be Mitrokhin up there. The regular army weren’t that good.
With adrenalin pumping, he gave that extra push, but the channel narrowed and lowered. Lack of headroom forced him to his hands and knees. Movement slowed. The ground shook. Tremors shuddered through his arms and legs, and then a blast was followed by a rumble.
The channel collapsed and fallen earth charged towards him. Rapid breathing, his heart raced, but he had to steady his thoughts. He couldn’t lose control, but the ground rumbled, ever closer.
Still on his hands and knees, he pushed his back hard against the roof. Earth fell around his feet and legs as the miniature cave fell in. But his body remained rigid, acting as a stanchion. His part of the crown hadn’t fallen, but ahead and behind, the rumble continued and the fragile earth crashed down. The structure of the hollow folded, and when it stopped he’d become entombed. Panic engulfed him. There was no way out.

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.
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Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense
Rating – R
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@JadeKerrion on Vampires Through the Ages #Paranormal #Fantasy #AmWriting

When asked to name the first vampire novel, many people immediately cite Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897.) The first known vampire novel, however, was The Vampyre, written by John Polidori in 1819.
Early vampires were creatures straight out of nightmares—pale and gaunt with sharp fingernails and long incisors. They could adopt more human appearances when they chose, but their essence remained unchanged. They were monsters, remorseless predators of the humans they had once been.
Nobody wanted to be a vampire.
And then, Anne Rice came along.
Others before her may have painted vampires in more sympathetic terms, but Anne Rice created empathy for vampires where none had existed before. Lestat de Lioncourt wasn’t just gorgeous, his hair the color of the sunlight he was denied, but he was the sun—eternally dazzling and brilliant—in the lives of those around him. One could certainly make the point that he was as destructive as the sun as well.
His fledgling, dark-haired, green-eyed Louis de Pointe du Lac, was as beautiful and subtle as moonlight, and as soulful and melancholic as a Shakespeare tragedy. The love that drew Louis and Lestat together, and the hate that drove them apart, formed the core of Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles.
Anne Rice humanized vampires and endowed them with both strengths and foibles. More importantly, she romanticized them. Vampires still preyed on humans, but it was hard to feel sorry for the humans when death appeared to be more seduction than murder, and Louis wept over every kill.
A paradigm shift had taken place. It was suddenly okay to feel sorry for vampires. More importantly, it was okay to want to be one.
Vampires would evolve at least once more in fiction. After Anne Rice, vampires continued to morph ever closer to the humans who were once their prey. By the time Stephenie Meyer got to her version of vampires in the popularTwilight series, the vampires were no longer susceptible to sunlight and no longer drank human blood. In other words, vampires were no longer the bad guys. More importantly, it was a given that a vampire boyfriend was a far bigger catch (and ironically a better mate—eternal consequences notwithstanding) than a human boyfriend.
What’s the next evolution for vampires? Vampirism is already here. In my Double Helix series, the alpha empath, Danyael Sabre, was a victim of a live blood transfusion, wherein the circulatory systems of two people were joined. The brain activity in the young person decreased whereas the brain activity in the older person increased. It’s notentirely science fiction. The premise is based on a 2011 study conducted in Stanford University on mice.
I took a different tactic in my fantasy novel, Eternal Night. Yes, there are vampires, but the story isn’t really about vampires. It is instead about the icrathari, the vampires’ demonic overlord. In Eternal Night, humans are trapped in Aeternae Noctis, the domed city of eternal night, and preyed upon by the vampires and the icrathari.
But what if the situation isn’t what it appears to be? Jaden’s only goal is to protect his younger sister, Khiarra, from being taken by the vampires, but his chance encounter with Ashra, the icrathari queen, challenges him to step beyond his trained fear of vampires to uncover the truth behind the city of eternal night.
I hope you enjoy this new perspective of vampires and the night terrors in Eternal Night.

E-books available at Amazon / Amazon UK / Apple / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / Smashwords
Paperbacks available at Amazon / Amazon UK / Barnes & Noble / Book Depository
Jade Kerrion developed a loyal reader base with her fan fiction series based on the MMORPG Guild Wars. She was accused of keeping her readers up at night, distracting them from work, housework, homework, and (far worse), from actually playing Guild Wars. And then she wondered why just screw up the time management skills of gamers? Why not aspire to screw everyone else up too?
So here she is, writing books that aspire to keep you from doing anything else useful with your time.
Her debut novel, Perfection Unleashed, spawned the Double Helix series which has won a total of seven science fiction awards, including first place in the Reader Views Literary Awards 2012 and the gold medal in Readers Favorites Awards 2013. She is also the author of Earth-Sim and When the Silence Ends, which placed first and second respectively in the 2013 Royal Palm Literary Awards, Young Adults category.
She lives in Fort Lauderdale, Florida with her wonderfully supportive husband and her two young sons, Saint and Angel, (no, those aren’t their real names, but they are like saints and angels, except when they’re not.)
Connect with Jade: Website / Facebook / Twitter

Alone for a millennium, since a human murdered her beloved consort, Ashra, the immortal icrathari queen, rules over Aeternae Noctis, the domed city of eternal night. Her loneliness appears to be at an end when her consort’s soul is reborn in a human, Jaden Hunter, but their reunion will not be easy.
Icrathari are born, not made. If Ashra infuses Jaden with her immortal blood, he will be a vampire, a lesser creature of the night, a blood-drinker rather than a soul-drinker.
Furthermore, Jaden is sworn to protect his half-sister, five-year-old Khiarra. She is the child of prophecy, destined to end the eternal night and the dominion of the Night Terrors—the icrathari and the vampires.
As Ashra struggles to sustain her crumbling kingdom in the face of enemies without and treachery within, Jaden fights to defend his sister and unravel a greater mystery: what is the city of eternal night, and how did it come to be?
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Genre - Fantasy, Paranormal
Rating – PG-13
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SUMMONED by Rainy Kaye #Excerpt #AmReading #Paranormal

Ralf Foster’s plane is ready to board. I make my way across the terminal toward the loading bridge, bag slung over my shoulder. The attendant scans my ticket and wishes me a good flight. I push a smile and head up the tunnel into the plane.
Some of my IDs show my real picture, and others do not. When flying, it’s a good idea to match. It’s also a good idea to act friendly. Airport security might get up close and intimate otherwise.
I glance at the seat number on my ticket and sigh. It’s always a crap shoot if I get to fly first class or not. Today, it’s coach.
After one particularly harrowing flight—stuck between a man who had never been introduced to a toothbrush and kept laughing his rancid breath over me, and a woman who invaded personal space so thoroughly I’m pretty sure a prostate exam was involved—I stormed into the accountant’s office to demand he always approve first class.
Unfortunately, the accountant could not help me. As it turned out, this jackassery with the ticket classes has nothing to do with making a pretty budget report for the boss. Karl himself was handling my arrangements. All of them.
I’m not sure why that surprised me. I guess, for a moment, I had thought of myself as a real person.
I can only conclude Karl likes to pull the choke collar every now and then.
The aisle seat is already occupied by a middle-age woman with a pleasant vibe. She’s flipping through a magazine. She glances up at me, startled, and then stares.
Sometimes I wonder if people can tell that I’m not like them. Chances are they are just unnerved by the black duster jacket and the fact I look like I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours. Probably because I have been.
Kills always make me a little nervous.
“You can take the window, if you like,” I say in my best church-going personality.
Her shoulders relax. “I would be fine with that.”
She scoots over. I stuff my bag into the overhead and drop into the aisle seat.
“Going to Houston?” She’s staring at me again.
“No, just a layover to New Orleans.” I lean forward, grab the Sky Mall magazine, and page through it. “Does anyone buy this crap?”
She chuckles, holding up her magazine. Also a copy of Sky Mall. “After a few hours of staring at it, some of it will look pretty useful.” She turns the magazine around so the pages face me and points to an item. “Like this. An alarm clock that flings a little propeller across the room so you have to get it to turn the alarm off.”
“I think I’d just bash the thing until it stops making noise,” I say.
“No kidding.” She smiles and goes back to reading.
Ralf is good with people. I’m not sure if Dimitri is, though
Then again, I’m not even sure who Dimitri is.

Twenty-three year old Dimitri has to do what he is told—literally. Controlled by a paranormal bond, he is forced to use his wits to fulfill unlimited deadly wishes made by multimillionaire Karl Walker.
Dimitri has no idea how his family line became trapped in the genie bond. He just knows resisting has never ended well. When he meets Syd—assertive, sexy, intelligent Syd—he becomes determined to make her his own. Except Karl has ensured Dimitri can’t tell anyone about the bond, and Syd isn’t the type to tolerate secrets.
Then Karl starts sending him away on back-to-back wishes. Unable to balance love and lies, Dimitri sets out to uncover Karl’s ultimate plan and put it to an end. But doing so forces him to confront the one wish he never saw coming—the wish that will destroy him.
Summoned is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.
Author Bio
Rainy Kaye is an aspiring overlord. In the mean time, she blogs at <a href=></a> and writes paranormal novels from her lair somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. When not plotting world domination, she enjoys getting lost around the globe, studying music so she can sing along with symphonic metal bands, and becoming distracted by Twitter (<a href=>@rainyofthedark</a>).She is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.
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Cover Design: Kris Wagner
Model: Adam Jakubowski
Photographer:  Marcin Rychły

Lethal Journey by Kim Cresswell @kimcresswell #Thriller #AmReading #GoodReads

Detective Eric Brennan sat at his usual table and sipped the night’s beverage of choice—a cola. In Chunkers Bar and Grill loud pointless chatter overpowered the ‘80s rock and roll band on stage.
The last week was a blur. Every waking hour he pounded the streets in search of his father’s killer.
Eric knew every detail of the shooters face, but not the kid’s name. He’d heard from one of his informant’s, the kid was a young tough-guy looking to be made—a “cugine” ready to make his mark into New York’s most influential crime network, the Valdina family. As part of his induction into the mob family, the asshole had already killed a low-life rival family member and Eric and his father were working the homicide case when they got a tip.

That steamy June evening had started like any typical bust. Within minutes after Eric and his father arrived at the warehouse, dozens of DEA agents secured the perimeter. Eric entered the warehouse first, his father followed. Amid the stench of mildew and dust, the first pop of an automatic echoed within the barren walls.

They were ambushed.

His father, a veteran with twenty-three years on the force never saw the shots coming. Eric threw his body against his father in hopes of shielding him. It was too late. Instead Eric witnessed his father’s face, the sickening whitish blue tint that came with death...

While Pete checked in with the precinct, Eric shifted in the chair. His left knee still burned where the bullet had grazed his leg. He rubbed the scar, a permanent reminder of a drug bust gone bad. Very bad.

“Hey, Brennan.” Pete threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table and downed the last swallow of his beer.

“Come on. I think we got a lead.”

Outside on West 35th Street, a full moon peeked through the clouds. Jagged streaks of lightning ignited the sky as rain sprinkled against Eric’s leather jacket. He lit a cigarette and leaned against his white pick-up truck parked in front of Chunkers.

Pete smirked. “Man, I thought you quit.”

Lethal Journey333x500

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Genre – Thriller
Rating – PG-18
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FORTY 2 DAYS (The Billionaire Banker) by @GeorgiaLeCarre #Fiction #Romance #GoodReads

Billie is right.  My position is untenable.  In his eyes I must be the worst kind of slut.  Ahead lies only more misunderstanding and pain for both of us.  The pain has already begun, a physical ache.  It fills my chest.  I can never tell him the truth.  In his mind I will always be his bad romance.  Lady Gaga singing, ‘I want your ugly.  I want your disease.’
‘I’m sorry, but I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement,’ I say, with the full knowledge that without the truth he will always despise me.  I lean back in my chair feeling soiled.  I will never again be clean in his eyes.  And there is not a damn thing I can do about it.   The waiter returns with more whiskey.
‘I know you’re angry but—’
‘Shut the fuck up.  You have no idea,’ he grates through gritted teeth.
I close my mouth.  I have never seen him so openly angry.  He is always so controlled, so smooth.  Even when he was once angry with someone on the phone his fury was so tightly leashed, so frighteningly quiet that I stood stock still behind the door listening.
He shoots his whiskey aggressively, and turning the empty glass on its edge rolls it on the tablecloth.  ‘Do you want more food?’
I shake my head miserably.  This is turning out to be nothing like I imagined.
A muscle in his jaw twitches.  He calls for the bill.
Someone in a suit comes rushing to his side.  ‘Is anything the matter?’ he enquires worriedly.
‘Everything is fine.’  He looks at me hard and deep.
‘But your main course…’
Blake does not take his eyes off me.  ‘I have unfinished business to take care of, Anton.’
I flush badly and Anton slips away with impressive speed from that which has nothing to do with him.  Another waiter, his face schooled into impassive professionalism, comes bearing the bill.  Blake signs for it, unfolds himself out of his chair and comes to stand by me.  I get to my feet and he leads me out of the restaurant.  We do not touch except for his hand splayed on the small of my back.  Possessive, the way only a husband’s hand should be.
Not a word is spoken by either of us in the car, but every cell in my body is responding to his nearness.  My desire for him is such that my hands are clenched tight against my thighs and my sex is actually throbbing.  In fact, the need is so excessive it is almost violent.  I sneak a look at him.  He is staring ahead, the chiseled cheekbones like stone, but that muscle in his throat is ticking like a time bomb.  I know that tick.  It tells me what he cannot, how hard and deep he wants to fuck me.  He is well and truly snared inside his bad romance.
‘What happened to all the clothes I left behind?’ I ask in the lift.
‘You enquire about last season’s fashions?  What about the people you left behind, Lana?  Why don’t you enquire about them?  Me for instance.’
‘How have you been, Blake?’
‘You’re just about to find out,’ he replies with a nasty grin.
Beyond the seductive power of immense wealth lies… Dark Secrets
Devastatingly handsome billionaire, Blake Law Barrington was Lana Blooms first and only love. From the moment they touched his power was overwhelming. Their arrangement quickly developed into a passionate romance that captivated her heart and took her on an incredible sexual journey she never wanted to end.
The future together looked bright until Lana made a terrible mistake. So, she did the only thing she could… she ran.
Away from her incredible life, away from the man of her dreams, but she should have known a man such as Blake Law Barrington was impossible to escape. Now, he’s back in her life and determined that she should taste the bitterness of his pain.
Shocked at how rough the sex has become and humiliated that she is actually participating so willingly in her punishment, she despairs if she will ever feel the warmth of his touch–the solidity of his trust again? And even if she can win his trust, loyalties are yet to be decided, and secrets to be revealed–secrets that will test them both to their limits.
Will Lana be able to tear down the walls that surround Blake’s heart, and break him free of the brutal power of immense wealth?
Can Blake hold on to Lana’s heart when she discovers the enormity of the dark secrets that inhabit the Barrington family?
Lana has always believed that love conquers all. She is about to test that belief…
Buy @ Amazon
Genre – Erotic Romance
Rating – PG-18
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Olga Soaje Shares Her Inspiration for TWELVE HOUSES #Women #AmWriting #Fiction

Twelve Houses was started as an observation you could say, the father of a dear friend of mine came to visit her and upon meeting him I could feel his loneliness and his grief shadow his actions, when I learned he became a widow six years prior and how his life changed dramatically after. It  got me thinking on the subject: What do you do when the love of your life goes? How do you handle it? How can one survive when it looks or feels unbearable?
I started asking myself those questions and the answers came as I started to write the first chapter and gave Amelia her own voice to express her feelings upon becoming a widow while facing fear, doubt and anger and having no solace from her always tranquil and uplifting sculpture studio. I never felt lost in this I could always imagine the feelings of grief and loneliness while at the same time allowing yourself to move and go on.
She moves into a journey of self-discovery of herself in a new light and faces difficult decisions and thought questions. But ultimately one of the questions she has to ask herself “Do I want to move on?” because as she learns it’s a very personal and deep decision she has to make, she can wallow in her grief and accept the fact while waiting for her time to come or she can learn to live another way.
I hope as readers close the book they come to their own opinions, but mostly I would love for them to feel the message lives in them and inspires their life in some way.

Can anything good follow the best thing that ever happened to you?
Amelia Weiss loved her husband of thirty-five years very much, but now he’s left her a widow. Without him, she is unable to work in her sculpture studio without crying. She no longer has a bridge to her estranged daughter. And she can’t seem to keep her mind in the present.
But when her daughter reaches out asking for her help and her agent threatens a lawsuit if Amelia doesn’t deliver for an upcoming exhibit, she’s forced to make a choice. Will she reengage with her life and the people in it—allowing room for things to be different than they were before? Or, will she remain stuck in the past, choosing her memories over real-life relationships?
Thrust fully into the present, Amelia stumbles into a surprising journey of self-discovery.
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Genre – Contemporary Fiction, Literary Fiction, Women’s Fiction
Rating – PG-13
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The Wings of Dragons #Excerpt (Dragoon Saga) by @JoshVanBrakle #Fantasy #BookClub

“If I were a kind woman, I might tell you to lay down your weapons and surrender if you don’t want to die.” Iren had thought Rondel’s voice couldn’t get colder or more frightening, but he’d been wrong. “However, I am not a kind woman.” She drew her dagger with her left hand. Sparks jumped over the blade just as they did on her eyes. “I follow Okthora’s Law: evil must be annihilated.”
The bandits all drew their bows and began firing rapidly. Rondel had nowhere to run, trapped between the tall townhouses lining either side of the street at the edge of the square. Iren cried out again, but this time, determined to see the tragedy through, he kept watching as arrows bombarded her location. At first he didn’t follow what was happening. Then his jaw dropped.
Rondel was dodging the arrows, her body blurring as she did so. The arrows aimed for all parts of her, yet she easily avoided every one. Her ancient body swayed with precision and balance so fluid, she made King Azuluu’s finest dancers look clumsy by comparison. Iren couldn’t believe it. Rondel had said that Maantecs’ speed and strength surpassed those of humans, but surely not by this much. He considered it highly unlikely that he could dodge all those shots if he and Rondel traded places. He could barely see most of them, and he had an even harder time tracking Rondel’s movements.
The barrage kept up until every bandit fired every last arrow he possessed. When they saw that Rondel remained unharmed, three of the Quodivar threw down their weapons and fled. As soon as they did, Rondel dropped into a run, her body blurring across the distance. She crossed the square in under a second. Her dagger flashed, dropping all three thieves at the same time. The other bandits, probably hoping to catch her off-guard, drew their close-range weapons and charged as one. The hag simply looked up, her eyes still sparking, and ran forward to meet them at a blinding pace. Several flashes ensued as Rondel’s blade danced, and then she emerged uninjured on the far side of the Quodivar. All but one of her enemies collapsed. The lone survivor, the man who had jeered at her so confidently mere moments ago, knelt before her with panicked tears in his eyes.
“Wait!” he called out. “I didn’t mean it! Zuberi said he would kill me if I didn’t take over Veliaf! I had no choice. Please, you believe in mercy, right?”
Rondel’s sparking eyes stared unfeelingly down at him. “No.”
The dagger swung hard and fast.

From fantasy author Josh VanBrakle comes an epic new trilogy of friendship, betrayal, and explosive magic. Lefthanded teenager Iren Saitosan must uncover a forgotten history, confront monsters inspired by Japanese mythology, and master a serpentine dragon imprisoned inside a katana to stop a revenge one thousand years in the making.
Lodian culture declares lefthanded people dangerous and devil-spawned, and for Iren, the kingdom’s only known Left, that’s meant a life of social isolation. To pass the time and get a little attention, he plays pranks on the residents of Haldessa Castle. It’s harmless fun, until one of his stunts nearly kills Lodia’s charismatic heir to the throne. Now to avoid execution for his crime, Iren must join a covert team and assassinate a bandit lord. It’s a suicide mission, and Iren’s chances aren’t helped when he learns that his new katana contains a dragon’s spirit, one with a magic so powerful it can sink continents and transform Iren into a raging beast.
Adding to his problems, someone on Iren’s team is plotting treason. When a former ally launches a brutal plan to avenge the Lefts, Iren finds himself trapped between competing loyalties. He needs to figure out who – and how – to trust, and the fates of two nations depend on his choice.
“A fast-paced adventure…led by a compelling cast of characters. Josh VanBrakle keeps the mysteries going.” - ForeWord Reviews
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Genre – YA epic fantasy
Rating – PG-13
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The Christmas Cowboy by @ShannaHatfield #thechristmascowboy #Romance #MustRead

Tate surprises Kenzie by showing up on her doorstep late one afternoon… Standing on her front step, he rang the bell and listened to her footsteps hurrying toward the door. The smile on her face forced him to catch his breath.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Kenzie asked, kissing his cheek then stepping aside so he could come in out of the cold.

Curiosity got the best of her when he stood staring at her, his good hand still behind his back. Trying to look around him, he turned so she couldn’t.

“What are you hiding?” she asked, her eyes warm and inviting when he stepped inside and nudged the door shut behind him with his boot.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re missing a very important component of proper Christmas décor,” Tate said, sounding all knowing and official.

“What could I possibly be missing?” Kenzie asked, looking behind her and sweeping her arm toward the living room that did look particularly festive, thanks in part to Tate. “I’ve got a poinsettia, a beautiful Christmas tree, garlands, pine boughs, sugary treats, and a blazing fire. Did you bring me some chestnuts to roast? If you did, I’ve got no clue what to do with them, so you’re out of luck.”

Laughing, Tate raised his arm and held a bunch of mistletoe over their heads. “It seems to me this is the most important decoration of all.”

“Possibly,” Kenzie said, reaching out and looping her arms around Tate’s neck, pulling his head down to hers. Teasing and gentle at first, their kiss soon gained momentum until he dropped the mistletoe on the table near the door and she pressed as close against him as his thick coat would allow.

Taking a breath, she quickly unfastened the snaps on his coat and slid it off his shoulders, carefully over his injured arm, until it dropped to the floor. He tossed his hat on the little chair Kenzie kept by the door while a groan escaped his throat. He took in every feature of her face, the mouth-watering summery fragrance surrounding her, and the softness of the hot pink sweater she wore. Her favorite color currently matched the shade of her flushed cheeks.

Lowering his head to hers again, Tate wrapped his good arm around her waist and slowly backed her toward the living room without breaking the connection of their lips.

“I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth as he carefully guided her to the couch. When her knees connected with the edge, she sank down on the soft cushions, still holding onto Tate. He went down with her, ravishing her neck with sizzling kisses that made her whisper his name in a throaty tone, sending blood surging through his veins.

The Christmas Cowboy

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Genre – Romance (Contemporary Western)
Rating – PG
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