Broken Spell by Mychael Black #DarkFantasy #Paranormal #GayRomance @changelingpress @mychael_black

Enemies come from many directions, but some are closer to home.

 

Broken Spell (Fae-ry Tales 2) by Mychael  Black

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Gay, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Magic

Wizard Micah Norwood was exiled from his cabal, but he didn’t leave empty-handed. Every cabal possesses a Focus Gem, a crystal used to store collective energies, used only for wide-reaching spells. He knows his cabal is readying to overthrow a Dark Fae House, but he doesn’t know why. After meeting Kirof, a Dark Fae on the run from his own House, Micah realizes he can’t let the cabal succeed.

Kirof, formerly of House Vakeor, has no idea why his companion Micah was exiled, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the wizards or the Dark Fae find them. Desperately trying to keep them one step ahead of their pursuers, Kirof finds himself caring far more for Micah than he should.

Purchase from Changeling Press

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EXCERPT

 

Micah Norwood wandered into the adjacent sitting room, half asleep. He paused in the doorway. Kirof still slept in one of the chairs. Micah had tried getting the man to share the bed, but Kirof had resisted. Micah had never been the type to just make the first move, but waiting for Kirof to do it was slowly driving him insane. The desire between them had been strong from the moment they’d first met. It was a weird mix of hot and unnerving.

“Micah?”

He shook his head, belatedly realizing he’d zoned off. He smiled at Kirof. “Lost in thought. Are you regretting the chair yet?”

Kirof stood slowly, wincing as if in pain. Sleeping in a chair sucked. Been there, done that. Micah held the man’s gaze as Kirof approached him. Pale hair fell over Kirof’s broad shoulders, and ice-blue eyes held Micah more spellbound than anything he’d ever conjured himself.

“Not necessarily the chair,” Kirof said.

“Yeah?” Micah stopped short of daring Kirof to take one more step closer. He had to look up, considering the Dark Fae was nearly a foot taller. He’d always hated being short, but something about a taller man made him weak in the knees. Broad, muscled. Kirof defied every Fae stereotype that existed, dark or light.

Kirof braced his hands on either side of the doorframe. Micah forced himself to look at the man’s face and not the muscular arms outstretched above him. Kirof leaned down, and Micah held his breath, praying. Just when Micah thought he’d finally get the kiss he’d been wanting since they first met, someone knocked on the door.

Spell broken, Kirof stepped away, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Micah wanted to launch an ice bolt at whatever jackass had interrupted. Kirof opened the door, revealing one of his brothers, Roen. Roen’s human lover, Kyle, followed the Dark Fae into the room. Kirof shut the door behind them.

“Have you seen Aron?” Roen asked, his expression one of concern.

“No,” Kirof said. “We just woke up. Well, I did.” He glanced at Micah.

Micah shook his head. “I haven’t been awake long. Is Aron not in his room?”

Roen sat down, brow furrowed. “No.” He glanced up. “All his stuff is gone.”

Kirof blinked. “Gone? Where the hell would he go? You know him better than anyone.”

“I don’t know,” Roen said. “This isn’t like him, Kirof. He wouldn’t just up and leave without saying anything to me. Something isn’t right about this.”

“No need to get worked up yet,” Kirof said. “I’m sure he’s fine. Is there anyone else he’d want to visit?”

“Wait. What about that waitress we met?” Kyle asked Roen.

“She and Aron seemed to be rather… friendly.”

Roen shook his head. “Tanra would come here. She knows where this place is. Hell, she’s sent a few folks here for safety. If she and Aron wanted to get together, this would be the best place to do it.”

Kyle grumbled. “I thought twins could mind read each other.” Chuckling, Roen put his arm around his lover’s shoulders. “Fairy tales.”

Something felt off to Micah, though he couldn’t figure out what. Aron had seemed perfectly fine, if a bit aloof, when they’d met. What could have changed? Micah went back into the bedroom and sat in the makeshift circle he’d set out on the wooden floor. He tried focusing on Aron, picturing the man in his mind, every detail.

Hazy images began to form, and he relaxed more to allow them through. Someone, another Dark Fae, spoke to Aron, though the stranger’s back was turned. Micah tried to focus on Aron’s lips in hopes of catching any words that might help. Aron and the stranger started out of whatever room they were in, and Micah caught a glimpse of what looked like an insignia on the stranger’s left arm. A tattoo?

Micah sighed as the image faded.

“Any luck?” Kirof asked from the doorway.

“I don’t know,” Micah said. He looked at Roen, who stood just behind Kirof. “I saw him speaking to someone, another Dark Fae. The stranger had a tattoo on his left arm.” He patted his own bicep. “Black, two swords crossed, with a rose in the bottom open space.”

Roen’s brow furrowed. “That’s House Kehru’s insignia. Aron was supposed to babysit a delegate visiting House Vakeor, but that was before we left. There’s no reason why he’d do so now. He’d be in chains the second he stepped foot into House Vakeor territory.”

“What about exiles from House Kehru?” Kyle asked from behind Roen. “Are there any?”

“Not that we know of,” Roen said. “But I could be mistaken. Micah, were you able to hear them at all? Or see where they might be?”

“I tried to read Aron’s lips, but I assume he spoke your language. None of the words looked even remotely familiar. As for place, a room of stone. Stone walls, ceiling. I couldn’t see the floor. The door they walked out of was wooden, though. No windows either.”

Roen sighed. “That doesn’t bode well. It sounds like he’s back underground, but why? What is he doing there?”

Micah met Kirof’s gaze. The Dark Fae’s expression mirrored what Micah feared might be the case. Micah drew in a deep breath before speaking.

“Roen… how well do you trust your twin?”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, editing, watching movies and shows on Netflix and Amazon, or spending way too much time on Facebook. Since the question has come up in the past, pronouns are not an issue. Myc is bio-female, mentally male, 100% genderfluid. So any pronoun works!

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Monira by Alice Gaines #aliens #romance @changelingpress

Monira finds herself stranded with a human male who turns out to be good for more than battle.

 

Monira (Leisure Planet 4) by Alice  Gaines

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: Futuristic, Paranormal, Alien Encounters
Length: 57 pages

Captain Jason Archer of Tartus is stranded on an undeveloped planet with a Casoran warrior named Monira. Although their first encounter is in battle, they eventually discover more pleasurable ways of dealing with each other. But were they also meant to fulfill each other’s dreams?

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EXCERPT

The Amazon had to have been here. Though he hadn’t found any more of her signs, the scene had changed. Now something that looked like a rolled-up blanket sat near the trunk of the tree, and a sword lay nearby. An ancient weapon. One that suited an Amazon. He bent to pick it up and admired its beautiful design. The blade appeared to be forged steel — again, a material he’d learned of in his studies. The hilt was a golden color with carvings of birds as decorations. It felt right in his hand, although he had no real way of evaluating its “rightness.”

He’d studied such things and had seen centuries-old specimens in museums, but he’d never hefted one himself. Once, he might have imagined himself a warrior, before fighting turned into something more like a video game than violence. Center a view-site here, push a button there, and death rays and bombs went off somewhere else. Disgusting, really, how easy it had become to kill. Besting an opponent with something like this, where you looked your enemy in the eye and smelled his sweat and blood — seemed much more noble.

He’d stepped out into the clearing and, wielding the sword with both hands, he slashed through the air around him. The weapon almost made a singing song as he did, and a charge of energy coursed up his arm toward his heart. Yes, this was how a man was created to fight, with the strength of his own body.

“Over here, male,” a voice said from behind him. Female. He didn’t have to turn to know the Amazon had found him, and here he stood holding her sword. Busted.

He did turn, though, and the sight that greeted him knocked the air out of his lungs. She was truly magnificent. Nearly as tall as him and all sleek muscle. She wore full battle gear, just like the Amazons of ancient times. Leather encased her torso and hung downward over her upper thighs in a skirt of sorts. Ornate metal bracelets ringed her upper arms — not just decorative but to ward off the blow of a sword. Boots came up to her knees.

But what really nailed him were her eyes. Huge and dark brown. Like someone else’s, although he couldn’t place them, and he sure as hell didn’t have time to contemplate that now.

While he stood staring, she drew a sword from the scabbard at her side and took a fighting stance with both hands firmly wrapped around the hilt.

He held his sword out in her direction. “I found this. I was only trying it out.”

“Lift your weapon, male,” she answered.

“You mean this isn’t yours?”

She didn’t answer but stared at him as if her glare could kill. It would certainly frighten a lesser man. A band of gold circled her head, again protecting her forehead and skull from a sword. He had no such protection.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said.

“Don’t be silly. Males always want to fight. That’s why they had to be subjugated.”

“You can stop calling me ‘male.’ My name is Jason Archer, Captain of the Wanderer. I’m from planet Tartus in the Spider Galaxy.”

“Then, defend yourself, Jason Archer of Tartus.”

“There’s no need to fight,” he said. “We’re not enemies.”

That didn’t calm her down. Quite the opposite. She let out a shriek and charged him. He got his sword up just in time to block hers from coming at his head. He’d had some training in hand-to-hand, so he kicked out his foot toward her belly, pushing her back.

Now he took a more useful stance for battle — weight balanced on the balls of his feet so he could maneuver quickly. And he held his sword as she did hers.

When she came at him this time, she bent low. She swung her weapon in an arc, aiming to take out his legs, but he jumped, just clearing the blade. When he came down, he gave an elbow hard to the back of her neck, sending her reeling forward.

Instead of falling on her face, she did a sort of roll and popped back onto her feet. “That’s a coward’s way to fight.”

“I’m not used to swordplay. I do what I have to to defend myself.”

“Then I’ll teach you how to wield a sword.” She came for him again. When he lifted his sword, she swung hers in a wide arc. The blades clashed with a ring loud enough to hurt his ears. The sting in his arm from the blow hurt a whole lot worse than that. So badly, in fact, he dropped his weapon.

Now she stood only feet away, her sword still up and pointing right toward his heart. All he could do was step backward.

“There’s no need for this,” he said. “I’m no danger to you.”

“I know you’re not… now,” she said.

“Then we can stop,” he said. “I surrender.”

“I’m not taking prisoners today.”

She kept coming, and he kept moving away from her. This woman might actually kill him. All for no good reason. He would remain calm… think of a way out of this… find some other type of weapon… appeal to her sense of fairness. Anything.

Then his foot caught on something, and he tripped, falling on his back, now totally helpless.

She stood over him, one foot on his chest and the point of her sword just over his voice box. He didn’t move a muscle. Hardly dared to breathe. Her beautiful face and eyes could be the last vision he’d take to his grave.

After a long moment, she chuckled and returned her sword to its scabbard. Then she reached a hand down to him. “You don’t frighten easily. I’ll give you that, male.”

He hesitated before taking her hand. How could he tell if he could trust her? But eventually, her smile turned to a smirk, and he’d have to relent if he was to save any of his male pride.

She helped him to his feet. “Retrieve your sword.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

USA Today bestselling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination, highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, with her collection of orchids and her pet corn snake, Casper.

Alice loves to get mail at authoralicegaines@yahoo.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/boeGm9.

 

Enchanted by Him @JaceyHolbrand #EroticRomance #GayRomance #BikerRomance @evernightpub

Hey folks! Jacey Holbrand here. I’m happy to announce I have another story in my Helldorado Mongrels MC series out now: Enchanted by Him!

~ * ~ ABOUT THE BOOK ~ * ~

The timeline of Enchanted by Him overlaps the one set in the second book Seduced by Him. (The stories in the series can be read as standalones, but as with most series, it’s best if they’re read in order). In Enchanted by Him, we’re reintroduced to the character Sloth—the man Tex, from Seduced by Him, is forced to ride up to Las Vegas with.

We follow Sloth and learn why he splits off from Tex, we learn Sloth’s secret, and of course, we go on a journey with Sloth as he discovers his mate and falls in love. We also see what finally happens to Inferno, the leader of the Helldorado Mongrels MC.

Come be enchanted!

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~ * ~ BLURB ~ * ~

Helldorado Mongrels MC member, Sloth, is a man with secrets. He’d joined the club with a specific goal in mind, and when three visitors arrive, he fears one of them will turn his world upside down. Especially since that newcomer is a witch and his mate.

Shaman, the medic from the Skinwalkers MC, was hired to find the woman after the Mongrels’s gold and has secrets himself. When he meets Sloth, the man he knows is destined for him, Shaman begins to reconsider his evil, witchy ways, and his internal conflict irritates him.

Despite the constant clashing of their differences, passion ignites between the two men. But will their secrets cause betrayal and hurt? Destroying their relationship before it even has a chance to fully develop? Or will love ultimately triumph?

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~ * ~ EXCERPT ~ * ~

As he sputtered and his eyes watered, he spun away from the invisible partition and ran into the tall medic. The cowboy hat was gone, showing that the man sported long, jet black hair, drawn back into a ponytail. Memories of what his imagination had conjured up earlier flooded his mind and sent his cock twitching again. He had to fight an irresistible urge to drop to his knees before the man, unzip his black jeans, and take his shaft into his mouth.

Shaman chuckled, and once Sloth’s gaze connected with the medic’s gray-eyed gaze, Shaman lifted the corner of his mouth in a mischievous grin.

Sloth sucked in a stream of air as the man’s compelling and magnetic gaze held tight to his. Under the intense stare, Sloth’s body crackled and his joints hissed. The tingly sensations and odd sounds made him realize Shaman was stripping away all his cloaking spells. He tried to combat the psychic assault. His own powers weakened as Shaman continued to stare at him. All he had left was the mind block he’d put in place, and even that felt tenuous.

He attempted to step back and found he couldn’t move. Shaman had “frozen” him into place. Sloth thanked the Great Spirit he hadn’t actually been turned into an ice pop. He hated wintery cold temperatures. On top of it all, without the magic that’d been surrounding him for so long, he felt completely bare and exposed.

Again, Shaman offered a short laugh, this time snapping his fingers as well.

Sloth’s clothes disappeared. Not a stitch of fabric remained on him. To his dismay, he truly was naked. And traitor that it was, his hard cock stood at attention.

Who needs mind reading when my erection gives my thoughts away?

The medic strolled around him, seeming to appraise him like a stud at market. The man swept his fingers and hand over Sloth’s arm, buttocks, and the dip created by his spine at the top of his ass crack, making approving murmurs as he did so. Shaman came to stand in front of him and stroked his hand down Sloth’s chest to his cock.

He didn’t know how it was possible he could be rendered into a state of statue-like material, but still be able to perceive each brush of Shaman’s fingers and palm, the nuances of the man’s gentle touches and lingering caresses. Sloth would have sighed and swooned had he been able to.

“You know, perhaps I won’t kill you and consume your powers.” The medic looked up from Sloth’s cock and stared at his face. He raised a brow. “I see the shock in your eyes. Your gaze gives away everything you’re thinking.” His tone dripped of disapproval. “I’m a true skinwalker. Do you think being a mate matters to one of my kind? We crave power. Always need more. Doesn’t matter who, what, where, when, or how we get it as long as we amass as much as possible.”

Dread filled Sloth. His mate had considered killing him? Murdering him for skills he could barely use anymore himself? He wished he could close his eyes, block out the sight of Shaman, and be able to focus on clearing his head.

So much for the fairy tale euphoria of meeting one’s true love, feeling that instant connection, knowing there’s no one else who would love him unconditionally, and having the insatiable need to be with that someone.

Instead, he had confusion, despair, and panic about being tied to someone who might kill him in his sleep. Yet, he still couldn’t help being super attracted to the witch and wanting to fuck him—hard and fast or slow and easy. Didn’t matter to him how. As long as they got inside each other. And the fact that he craved to be physical with the skinwalker scared him even more.

“But then,” Shaman continued, “the pull I feel toward you is inexplicable. The thought of you no longer walking the earth pains me in a way I’ve never felt before and worsens with the idea of my hand taking you from your mortal coil. No. I won’t kill you. I won’t consume your power. But I will demand having all of you—body, heart, and soul. The two of us will be greater together as a bonded couple rather than just me having all the fun causing havoc everywhere.” Shaman clucked Sloth under the chin.

“I smell your attraction to me,” the medic stated, sneaking a glance at Sloth’s penis. “I see it, too. Yet, I also smell your fear. We can’t have that. Amorcito, you need to trust me … love me. I’m more than happy to give you some time to wrap your head around all of this. Not a lot of time, mind you, but whatever decision you come to, know this, you will be mine.”

~ * ~ BUY BOOKS BY JACEY HOLBRAND ~ * ~

Evernight Publishing ## Amazon ## Barnes & Noble ## BookStrand ## iTunes ## Kobo ## Smashwords

Enchanted-by-Him-series-evernightbanner

~ * ~ BIO ~ * ~

Jacey Holbrand believes life and love comes in all forms and should be celebrated. She’s committed to her muse and writing so she can share her stories with readers. Hot days. Sexy nights. Come play in her world.

Jacey loves to hear from readers! Click the link to eMail her: JaceyHolbrand@gmail.com

~ * ~ STALK ~ * ~

Blog/Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Facebook Page

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☆☆Cover Reveal☆☆ Preacher (Dixie Reapers MC) by Harley Wylde @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress #bikerromance #MCromance #CoverReveal

I lost the love of my life and vowed to never love again. Until temptation walked through the door …

 

PreacherCover

 

Kayla:

My twin brother, Johnny, practically disappeared when he started prospecting for the Dixie Reapers, and if I wanted to see him, then it meant going to the compound. I’d never been inside the clubhouse, wasn’t supposed to go there, but sometimes the devil on my shoulder prods me into doing things I shouldn’t.  Johnny made it sound like there were drugs being snorted left and right and orgies, but that wasn’t what I found that night. I never expected to fall for a heartbroken man I could never have, a man much older than me. But that night, Preacher took me in his arms, claimed my virginity with a passion that left me seeing stars, and I knew that I’d made the right decision. Even if it did come back to bite me in the ass two months later. When I’d walked through the door that night, I’d never counted on being fucked by a super hot biker, and I definitely didn’t expect to end up pregnant!

Preacher:

When I lost my family, before even prospecting for the Dixie Reapers, I’d closed off my heart and vowed to never let another woman in. A quick fuck here and there with the club pussy kept me sane, but no one would ever mean anything to me. Then the most tempting woman I’ve ever met gave me a night I knew I’d always remember, right before she disappeared. When she turns up two months later, I find her in the arms of one of the prospects. Fury hits me first, then she knocks me on my ass when she tells me she’s pregnant. With my kid. I turned away from god all those years ago, gave up being a minister and signed my life over to the Dixie Reapers. I don’t know that I believe in a higher power anymore, but maybe it’s time I start praying again. Because giving this woman everything she needs, being the man she deserves, is going to take one hell of a miracle.

 

Coming  June 2018

 

 

To My Muse by Nicola M. Cameron #RomanceBooks #RomCom @YesItsNicolaC

Ever do something really, really dumb?

When too much tequila and an enabling BFF put Lily Nayar’s romance novel Feast of Lovers into the hands of its inspiration, sexy British actor Tom Morrison, Lily is horrified. Now she’s determined to get her book back, even if that means breaking into Tom’s hotel room to do it.

With the help of a strategic lie and a charismatic knight, Lily’s screwball plan catapults her into the middle of her very own Cinderella story, Hollywood style. But will a vengeful actress ruin Lily’s shot at a real life HEA with Tom?

Excerpt available here.

  • Contemporary romance, romantic comedy, MF
  • Word Count: 67,000
  • Heat Level 2
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Excerpt

Giving Theresa a thumbs up, I closed the door and turned my attention to the hotel room. It had already been cleaned and the bed was neatly made. A suitcase sat on the valet stand next to the TV, and the dresser and desk held various pieces of paper, notes, and a couple of plastic shopping bags, all the usual stuff when you’re stuck in a hotel room for a couple of weeks.

Of course, the fangirl part of my brain was screeching like a gibbon at me that I was in Tom Morrison’s hotel room. He’d slept in that very bed last night. Sat at that desk to check his email and Facebook. Took a dump behind the closed door of what I assumed was the bathroom. The prosaic nature of that last bit helped me regain some self-control, and I tiptoed (why, I don’t know, I’m an idiot) over to the desk. There was what looked like a script for GearShifter on it, as well as a MacBook Pro, but no Feast of Lovers. Bad Tom, no leaving your expensive computer equipment out where people can steal it.

I wanted to leaf through the script so badly, but I ignored it and kept looking for Feast. Not on the desk top, not on the dresser, not on the TV. I was starting to worry that he’d taken it with him to the location when I noticed the suitcase. I truly, honestly hated the idea of going through his personal stuff, but he might have stuck it in there. I could just lift the lid, take a peek, maybe it was in plain sight—

I had the lid in hand when the bathroom door swung open and a tall, beautiful blonde in a towel strutted out. “I thought I heard you—” she purred, before she saw me. Both face and tone iced over. “Who the hell are you?”

I let out a noise that could have been used as a sound effect for a creaking vault door. The blonde stalked closer, looming over me. Up close, I could see some fine lines around her eyes, but she was still ridiculously gorgeous. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

Oh. Oh, shit. My brain informed me that I was currently sharing a room with Claudine Ellery, the actress playing Tom’s antagonist/love interest on the show. What the hell was she doing in his bathroom? Were they dating in real life? Why was I asking stupid questions when I should be turning and running for my freaking life?

And then Fate decided that she needed an even bigger chuckle because the room door opened and Tom Morrison walked in. I caught a glimpse of an apologetic Theresa hovering in the hallway before she was eclipsed by Tom, who was staring at Claudine and me.

Oh, God. He was even better looking in person. Not all actors are, but Tom—he was edible. Curly black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and lips that I’d wanted to kiss since the first time I saw him on screen. With faded jeans that fit him perfectly, a dusty white button-down with rolled up sleeves, just the right amount of chest hair peeping out of his collar, and the cutest smudge of dust across one laser-sharp cheekbone, he was every one of my fantasies come to warm, tall life right in front of me.

And I had broken into his hotel room.

That was it. I was going to jail, assuming that the cops didn’t just see “brown person” and shoot me when they got here. At the very least I’d get fired from Golden State. Mom and Dad would disown me, Dada and Dadi would die of shame, and Derek would probably take out an ad in the LA Times saying that I was adopted. My only hope was that Theresa had gotten the hell out of here. There was no reason for both of us to go down for my stupidity—

“Lilian, darling, what are you doing here?”

My brain skidded to a halt. Words had come out of Tom Morrison’s mouth. Friendly words. While he was staring directly at me. Looking, if I may say so, as if he was talking to someone he knew. Which he didn’t, because I may not have remembered sending him my book but I would definitely remember meeting him.

“Um. Hi?” I waved weakly.

“I thought you decided not to come out this weekend.” He crossed to me, slipping an arm around my shoulders as he stared at Claudine. He squeezed my shoulder once, kind of hard, then did it again.

Even with my brain in fangirl vapor lock I can take a hint. I had no idea how he knew who I was, but he wanted me to play along. Plastering a grin on my face, I slipped my arm around his waist and squeezed back. His torso felt like warm rock, and he smelled so good.

“Well, I figured I needed a road trip,” I extemporized, giving him a bright smile. “And I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Not at all, angel,” he purred. Up close, I could see a hint of relief in his eyes. It disappeared as he turned to Claudine. “Claud, why are you in my room wearing a towel?” he asked politely.

She planted hands on slim hips, cocking her head to the side. “Seriously? You have to ask why?”

“Yes, because if I remember correctly, I told you that I had no interest in going to bed with you. In fact, I’m quite sure I informed you of this on numerous occasions. And when I walk into my hotel room and see you wearing nothing but terrycloth while my girlfriend,” this time his squeeze was gentle, “is standing there looking gobsmacked, I have to wonder what the actual fuck you’re up to.”

My face went rigid as it tried to hold onto my smile. Girlfriend? Eeeeeeeee…


Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | iTunes | Print


About the Author

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in romance and sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to speculative romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

 

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

 

#CoverReveal RENA AND THE ALIEN WARRIOR (Intergalactic Brides 16) by Jessica Coulter Smith #scifi #aliens #RomanceBooks #AlienRomance #booknerds

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Maybe love was all they’d been missing in order to heal.

 

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Rena was captured at the age of fifteen and sold as a slave to the highest bidder. Despite the abuse she’s suffered, she counts herself lucky that no one has ever touched her intimately. When she angers her current owner, and he gives her to a purple alien as a gift, she isn’t sure if this next stage of her life will be a blessing or a curse. After five years as a captive, she’s too beaten to believe she’ll have a happily-ever-after. Who could ever fall in love with a woman as badly damaged as her?

Beren has avoided females at all costs. His scarred body and damaged ear don’t make for a very handsome male. When his commander, Ryx, brings a human female on board their ship, Beren is curious yet cautious. Like him, Rena has wounds on both the outside and inside. For the first time, Beren wonders if maybe there’s a female after all who will look past his exterior to see his warrior heart, and not someone broken and pitiful.

 

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Publisher: Changeling Press
www.changelingpress.com
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Spotlight: Return to Me by LM Spangler #NewRelease #RomanceBooks @authlmspangler @evernightpub

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Return to Me BLURB:

Her secret tore them apart.

Naida Bouche foolishly thought she could live as if she was only human. Her true nature hung over her like a thunderhead, driving a wedge between her and her husband.

Cooper Martin had no idea why his ex-wife divorced him. He’d treated her like a goddess. And they had no problems in the intimacy department.

Fate brings them together again. Old emotions flare to life. Can Naida see beyond her self-perceived faults and allow the flames to reignite the love she and Coop feel for one another?

EXCERPT:

Water cascaded off her nude body. Small rivulets ran over her breasts and down her slightly rounded stomach, disappearing into the surface of the lake.
She was one with the water.
She could, literally, become one with it.
Moonlight reflected off the mirror-smooth surface, adding a soft glow to the night.
Crickets serenaded her with their chirping song. The cicadas added their buzzing to the symphony. There were a lot of cicadas, hence the name of the lake. A wolf howled in the distance. Nature cocooned her.
She grinned and dove under. Liquid embraced her, still heated by the sun’s rays from earlier in the day. Her body became insubstantial, fragmenting into molecules of H2O. Disorientation left her bewildered, but the feeling came and went. Weightless warmth enveloped her, and the ebb and flow of the tide lulled her into blissful relaxation.
The moon slid across the sky. Hours had passed. Her body became corporeal with a single thought. After regaining her human form, she cut through the water with powerful strokes and rose to the surface in a rush of bubbles.
The night air chilled her damp skin, raising goose pimples along her flesh. She pushed the long fall of hair from her face and glanced into the deep, lush woods that ringed the lake. Soon the leaves would change to shades of gold, orange, red, and brown. In would come the autumnal chill. Her time in the waters would decrease, and then winter would set in and freeze her out.
When that happened, she’d resort to the swimming pool located on the basement level of her large home. Even with the greenery she had sprinkled about, it never fully replaced the exhilaration of the lake, the feel of fresh air against her skin, and the scent of the wilderness.
She repeated the cycle, year after year. The monotony had long since worn short on her nerves.
She had someone in her life, someone to break the monotony.
More accurately, she would only have him until the end of the day.
Tonight would be the last night they would be together. She’d tell him that they were over and done with. The sad part of the whole shitty deal was she couldn’t really give him a reason why.
How could he understand? Hell, she’d have trouble believing the truth, if it wasn’t her life.
The root of their problems were otherworldly, as her father was human and her mother was a water nymph.
The nymph side of her heritage presented two problems. First, she needed daily contact with water. The more the better. Like her pool in the basement. Second, she also needed sex … a lot. Preferably once or twice a day. After all, the term “nymphomaniac” had been born of a nymph’s sex drive.
They had a lot of sex, but there were times when their hectic lives interfered with his libido. He was human and his sex drive was human.
She couldn’t guess how he’d react if she said, “I’m a nympho which means we have to have sex all the time. Day and night. Over and over and over.”
He wouldn’t understand it and she’d allowed it to build a wall between them.
No, he had never known the truth of her desires.
She had pushed him away, afraid of exposing her real self.
And that fear, that uncertainty, would leave her alone … and needy.

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Author Bio:

LM Spangler lives in South Central Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, three dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and some fish. Her son serves his country in the US Navy.

She is a fan of college football and any kind of baseball and likes to watch the Discovery, Velocity, HGTV, DIY, Science, and any channel showing a college football game. She also watches old game shows like $25,000 Pyramid and Match Game.

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