Monday, February 19, 2018

Book Tour & Giveaway: Enchanter Redeemed by Sharon Ashwood

Enchanter Redeemed
Camelot Reborn
Book Four
Sharon Ashwood

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne

Date of Publication: February 1/6 2018

ISBN: 978-1335629487


Number of pages: 300

Word Count: 80,000

Cover Artist: Brandon Allen

Tagline:  Ancient magic and new passion…

Book Description:

In the last battle for Camelot, Merlin had to make a terrible choice. Now he must pay the price. When a demon from his past reappears, she wants nothing more than to destroy the wizard. Now to reap her vengeance as a lover scorned, the demon occupies the body of Clary—the apprentice who is capturing his heart—and has the innocent behaving in uncharacteristic ways. Ways that push the forbidden desire Clary and Merlin share into heated play…

Book Trailer:

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Other Books in the Series

Book 1 - Enchanted Warrior (RITA nominee)

Book 2 – Enchanted Guardian

Book 3 – Royal Enchantment


Clary jolted awake. Power surged through her body, painful and suffocating. Her spine arched into it—or maybe away from it, she wasn’t sure. Merlin had one hand on her side and the other on her chest, using his magic like a defibrillator. The sensation hammered her from the inside while every hair on her body stood straight up. When he released her, she sagged in relief. A drifting sensation took over, as if she were a feather in an updraft.
Merlin’s fingers went to her neck, checking for a pulse. His hands were hot from working spells, the touch firm yet gentle. In her weakened state, Clary shivered slightly, wanting to bare her throat in surrender. She was a sucker for dark, broody masculinity and he projected it like a beacon. All the same, Clary sucked in a breath before he got any big ideas about mouth-to-mouth. If Merlin was going to kiss her, she wanted wine and soft music, not blood and the dirty workshop floor.
Another bolt of power, more pain, another pulse check. Clary managed a moan, and she heard the sharp intake of Merlin’s breath. His hand withdrew from her pulse point as she forced her eyes open. He was staring down at her with his peculiar amber eyes, dark brows furrowed in concern. She was used to him prickly, arrogant or sarcastic, but not this. She’d never seen that oddly vulnerable expression before—but it quickly fled as their gazes met.
“You’re alive.” He said it like a fact, any softness gone.
“Yup.” Clary pushed herself up on her elbows. She hurt all over. “What was that?”
“A demon.”
“I got that much.” Clary held up her arm, peering through the rents in her jacket where the demon’s claws had slashed. Merlin’s zap of power had stopped the bleeding, but the deep scratches were red, puffy and hurt like blazes.
“Demon claws are toxic.”
“Got that, too.”
“I can put a salve on the wound, but you’d be smart to have Tamsin look at it,” Merlin said. “Your sister is a better healer than I am.”
“She’s better than anybody.” Clary said it with the automatic loyalty of a little sister, but it was true. “She’s got a better bedside manner, too.”
Merlin raised a brow, his natural arrogance back in place. “Just be glad you’re alive.”
She studied Merlin, acutely aware of how much magic he’d used to shut the demon down. He looked like a man in his early thirties, but there was no telling how old he actually was. He was lean-faced with permanent stubble and dark hair that curled at his collar. At first glance, he looked like a radical arts professor or dot-com squillionaire contemplating his next disruptive innovation. It took a second look to notice the muscular physique hidden by the comfortable clothes. Merlin had a way of sliding under most radars, but Clary never underestimated the power he could pluck out of thin air. She was witch born, a member of the Shadowring Coven, but he was light years beyond their strongest warlocks.
That strength was like catnip to her—although she’d never, ever admit that out loud. “What were you doing?” she demanded, struggling the rest of the way to a sitting position.
“I was watching the demons through a scrying portal when you interrupted me.” His tone was precise and growing colder with every syllable. Now that the crisis was over, he was getting angry.
“The she-demon tried to kill me.” Clary’s insides hollowed as the words sank home. Dear goddess, she did kill me! And Merlin had brought her back before a second had passed—but it had happened. Her witch’s senses had felt it happen. The realization left her light-headed.
“She doesn’t get to have you,” he said in a low voice.
Their gazes locked, and something twisted in Clary’s chest. She’d been hurt on Merlin’s watch, and he was furious. No, what she saw in his eyes was more than icy anger. It was a heated, primal possessiveness that came from a far different Merlin than she knew. Clary’s breath stopped. Surely she was misreading the situation. Death and zapping had scrambled her thoughts.
“I shouldn’t have walked in on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he said in a voice filled with the same mix of ice and fire. “You’d be a better student of magic if you paid attention. You asked me to teach you proper magic and not the baby food the covens use. Real magic is deadly.”
Abruptly, he stood and crossed the room to kick a shard of agate against the wall. It bounced with a savage clatter. Clary got to her feet, her knees wobbling. He spun and stormed back to her in one motion, moving so fast she barely knew what was happening.
He took her by the shoulders, the grip rough. “Don’t ever do that again!”
And then his mouth crushed hers in a hard, angry kiss. Clary gasped in surprise, but there was no air, only him, and only his need. She rose slowly onto her toes, the gesture both surrender and a desire to hold her own. She’d been kissed many times before, but never consumed this way. His lips were greedy and hot with that same confusing array of emotions she’d seen a moment ago. Anger. Fear. Possession. Protectiveness.
Volatile. That was the word she’d so often used in her own head when thinking about him. Volatile, though he kept himself on a very short chain. Right now that chain had slipped.

For the first two chapters, click here:

About the Author:

Sharon Ashwood is a free-lance journalist, novelist, desk jockey and enthusiast for the weird and spooky. She has an English literature degree but works as a finance geek. Interests include growing her to-be-read pile and playing with the toy graveyard on her desk. As a vegetarian, she freely admits the whole vampire/werewolf lifestyle fantasy would never work out, so she writes paranormal romances instead.

Sharon lives in the Pacific Northwest and is owned by the Demon Lord of Kitty Badness.








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Saturday, February 17, 2018

Book Blitz & GIveaway: Mating Games by Nikki Jefford

Mating Games
Nikki Jefford
(Wolf Hollow Shifters, #2)
Publication date: February 13th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
Hot-tempered, agile, and jaded, Jordan spurns the match her father is pushing between her and the swaggering mammoth, Raider. She’d happily let one of her fawning sisters take him, but her packmates are taking bets on who Raider will ultimately claim. Jordan wants nothing to do with the insufferable beast . . . until he saves her life.
All brawn and no brains, that’s what most male shifters think when they see Raider. The females treat him as a strong, attractive prize they want to sink their claws into. Only one female avoids him, which is fine with him until they are paired up for patrol. The hot-blooded she-wolf doesn’t have to like him, but she’ll have to find a way to perform her duties.
When Jordan’s life is threatened, along with several packmates, the mating games take a dangerous turn.
Something sinister is happening in Wolf Hollow and outside forces threaten the impassioned bond forming between two shifters fated to be together.

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Book 1 – Wolf Hollow – is only 99¢ for a limited time!
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A figure flew around the bend, emerging through the thicket on two long legs. Jordan screeched in surprise when she saw him directly in her path. Seconds later, her eyebrows slashed across her forehead angrily as she regained her composure. As Raider shifted, crouched on the ground, she spun around to avoid seeing him naked.
Jordan kept her back to him. “What were you doing snarling in the middle of the trail like a mad wolf?” she demanded, gesturing with her arms.
She looked ridiculous addressing the trees rather than facing Raider as he stood and dusted himself off.
“What were you doing crashing through the forest like a vulhena on the attack?” Raider fired back.
Jordan whipped around, mouth agape as though indignant. With her jaw clenched, she shot him an incredulous look that faded as her eyes slid south, inch by inch, as though drawn down against her will. Her gaze brushed over him where the wind did not. It slid down his chest and slipped further yet, to his thighs and the hardness between.
A moment of pride swept over Raider when he caught the whites of her eyes as they widened right before they snapped up and met his. Her cheeks flushed bright red. She twisted around, causing dust to rise around her ankles with her speed. His cock tightened and pulsed at the sight of her pert back end, as though she’d turned in offering rather than aversion.
Normally not one to taunt, Raider couldn’t help himself now. “Don’t tell me you’ve turned shy, Jordan. It’s not like you haven’t seen a cock before… Well, maybe not one this big.”

Author Bio:
Victoria James is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance.
Victoria always knew she wanted to be a writer and in grade five, she penned her first story, bound it (with staples and a cardboard cover) and did all the illustrations herself. Luckily, this book will never see the light of day again.
In high school she fell in love with historical romance and then contemporary romance. After graduating University with an English Literature degree, Victoria pursued a degree in Interior Design and then opened her own business. After her first child, Victoria knew it was time to fulfill her dream of writing romantic fiction.
Victoria is a hopeless romantic who is living her dream, penning happily-ever-after's for her characters in between managing kids and the family business. Writing on a laptop in the middle of the country in a rambling old Victorian house would be ideal, but she's quite content living in suburbia with her husband, their two young children, and very bad cat.
Sign up for Victoria's Newsletter to stay up to date on upcoming releases and exclusive giveaways, follow her blog for daily antics and insight into her daily life, and get to know her on twitter and Facebook. She loves hearing from readers!
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Monday, February 12, 2018

Book Promo and Giveaway: Defining Human by Candace Blevins

Book Four
Candace Blevins

Genre:  Urban Fantasy

Publisher:  Excessica

Date of Publication:  2/2/2018

ISBN: 1230002076652

Word Count: 85,000

Cover Artist:  Syneca Featherstone

Book Description:

Book four of the ONLY HUMAN series…

Kirsten negotiated for what she hopes will be two glorious hours with Xaephan, but the Lord of Lust has his own ideas of how the afternoon will transpire, and the consequences of her evening are long lasting.

Her deal with Ryan means she must go to Africa to help guard gazelles for a week. She trains for the event, but her preparation doesn’t cover the Strigorii vampires who have their eye on her. Since she broke up with Abbott, gaining control of her will be like hanging a sign saying they’re more powerful than The Abbott without having to actually fight him.

Throw in complications with Nathan and a few battles with her old enemy Aquila, and Kirsten doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going. She wants peace and quiet with her daughter, but is it possible? Is she too embroiled in supernatural politics to live a normal life? Kirsten feels as if she’s become a game piece in a sick game of chess, and she wants off the board.

Series Trailer:

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“Chère, it’s good to see you.” Xaephan walked to a nightstand, opened a drawer, and chuckled. “Your lion follows instructions well.” He stood and inhaled. “He’s close enough to keep an eye on you. Nice.”

“He isn’t my lion. He’s my friend, and he happens to be a lion.”

“He’s more yours than anyone else’s, Chère. Eventually, you’ll have to confront his Pride, but he’s keeping them in check, for now.”

I forgot what I’d intended to say when he lifted a paddle and flogger from the drawer, followed by a large glass butt plug and a worn leather strap.

The first three items were obviously new, but the strap wasn’t, and I eyed it a few seconds while I tried to figure out how to word my question. “The strap has a story. I want to hear it before you use it on me.”

“It belongs to your lion and is on loan to me for the evening.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by using something of Nathan’s to whip me, but I don’t agree to it.”

“Nothing in our agreement says I can’t, Chère. You said I’d have to act in your best interest, and you bound me from tricking you into anything. I said to find a place I could spank you and make you scream without us being heard, and I warned you moving the marks will hurt nearly as bad as receiving them in the first place. Nothing in that agreement says I can’t use something belonging to the Lion King to spank you with.”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t like it.”

He gave me a rakish grin. “Works for me. Our two hours of Earth-time doesn’t begin until we get started, so get rid of the robe and bend over the bed.”

Part of me wanted to bitch about him being a jerk, part of me appreciated the emotional distance it created. I stood, tossed the robe onto a chair in the corner, and bent over the tall bed. I’m short, so I don’t think it worked out quite the way he intended.

“On second thought, tiny human, bend over the chest at the foot of the bed.”

About the Author:

Candace Blevins has published more than thirty books. She lives with her husband of nineteen years and their two daughters. When not working or driving young teens all over the place, she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming. The family’s beloved, goofy, retired racing greyhound is usually at her side as she writes, quietly keeping her company.

Candace writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Contemporary BDSM Romance, and a kick-ass Motorcycle Club series.

Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, and a variety of other mythological beings exist.

Candace's two paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals and The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, are both sister series to the Only Human series, and give some secondary characters their happily ever after. 

Her contemporary Safeword series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each couple in the Safeword series gives the reader a different take on the lifestyle. 


AMAZON FOLLOW-  Did you know Amazon will automatically email you a link every time I publish a new book! Click the yellow FOLLOW button under my author picture.


Tour giveaway

10 copies of Bash v.1

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Promo: Deadline by Jennifer Blackstream; Review coming soon.

"The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend."


(Blood Trails Series, Bk 1)By Jennifer BlackstreamBlurb: As a witch with a dark past, Shade Renard knows the Otherworld isn’t always successful at policing itself. Humans don’t believe in magic anymore, and their ignorance renders them easy prey. So when an FBI contact hires her to consult on a possible haunting in a missing persons case, Shade seizes the opportunity to see justice done. 
Her case takes an unexpected turn when an undead crime lord shows up on her doorstep. A bold thief stole the vampire’s little black book of secrets—and he’ll pay a lot more than an FBI consulting fee to get it back. To collect, Shade will have to confront a rogue sorceress, a vengeful wizard, and a lethally seductive fey, with only her wits, her growing magic, and a sarcastic pixie familiar. 

Success means bringing a killer to justice and taking the first step to redemption. Failure means a war between humans and the Otherworld.

No pressure.

Available for purchase at 

iBooks | Amazon Paperback | Kobo | B&N


My instincts flared as I pulled into my driveway. The sun had set and it was dark, but the automatic light on my garage didn’t come on. I frowned.
“Did you disconnect the automatic light?”
Peasblossom curled against my neck, her wet dress adding to a sudden chill in the air inside the car. “No.”
Unease rolled down my spine. I murmured a spell, drawing a few circles in the air. “Lumen.” Three glowing balls of reddish light bloomed to life and hovered before me. I kept one over my head and sent the other two forward, illuminating my path to the front door. I didn’t open the garage door and pull in, but got out while I was still in the driveway, already preparing another spell as I climbed out of the driver’s seat.
“Revelare.” My power flowed in a wash of silver toward the house, probing for any foreign magic.
“Stay here,” I told Peasblossom. “If I don’t call for you, go to Mother Hazel and tell her everything that happened today.”
“But I won’t have anything to tell her unless I stay to see what happens,” Peasblossom hissed. “I’m not leaving you.”
“This might be nothing.” I kept my voice as low as possible. “The bulb may have burned out. Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not silly and I’m not stupid. You think there’s something bad inside. And a witch never ignores her gut.”
A lump rose in my throat, and I fought to swallow around it. “Please stay out here. I can’t bear the idea of anything happening to you.”
Peasblossom gave my ear a ferocious hug. “I’ll stay out here, but only as backup. I will never leave you.”
I waited for her to fly up and off my shoulder before straightening my spine. This was my house. My village. Whatever was here, whatever had violated my home, would be sorry. Power rose in my throat, feeding the spell I’d readied.
“Shade, look out!”
I whirled around and spat behind me. The spell hurtled through the air, and I had a split second to see a dark figure separate itself from the maple tree beside my driveway. The spell landed in the grass, the viscous blue fluid of the entanglement spell pooling in the tree’s shadow.
“Such attacks will not be necessary.”
A man spoke from beside me, smooth and masculine, voice heavy with an accent I hadn’t heard in a long time.
A very, very long time.
I turned, knowing I’d never call up another spell fast enough. I raised my hand anyway, needing to try, to go down fighting. A hand closed around my wrist, tight enough that I swore I heard my bones creak. I gritted my teeth and stared into the face of my visitor.
He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my car. Long white-blond hair brushed his shoulders and framed a pale face with sharp, graceful features. I couldn’t see what color his eyes were in this light, but it didn’t matter. I remembered his face.
He went by the name Anton Winters, majority shareholder of the Winters Group, a company that made the Forbes 500 list look like a gathering of struggling start-ups. There were whispers he had criminal connections, that he was former KGB. I knew the truth. And it was scarier.
Anton Winters had once been known by a different name.
Prince Kirill of Dacia.
A vampire.

About The Author

USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Blackstream is…odd. Putting aside the fact that she writes her own author bio in third person, she also sleeps with a stuffed My Little Pony that her grandmother bought her as a joke for her 23rd birthday, and she enjoys listening to Fraggle Rock soundtracks whether or not her children are in the car.

Jennifer doesn’t have spare time, but she makes it a point to spend at least one night a week with her sibling binge-watching whatever show they’re currently plowing through (currently Numbers on Netflix), and she ferociously guards quality time with her son and daughter. She cooks when she has the sanity for it—adding garlic to the recipe whether it calls for it or not—and tries very hard not to let her arachnophobia keep her out of her basement on laundry day.

Jennifer’s influences include Terry Pratchett (for wit), Laurell K. Hamilton (for sexual tension), Jim Butcher (for roguish flair), and Kim Harrison (for mythos). She is currently writing the series of her heart and her dreams, the series that has been percolating in her brain for the last decade…Blood Trails. An Urban Fantasy Mystery series that will combine the classic whodunit spirit with a contemporary fantasy setting. Expect mystery, magic, and mayhem, with characters that will make you laugh, cry, and probably stare at the screen with your jaw hanging down to the floor. Well, that’s how they affect Jennifer anyway…

You can find Jennifer at

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Sunday, February 4, 2018

Book Tour and Giveaway: A Star Called Home by Marina Landry

A Star Called Home
by Marina Landry
Genre: SciFi Romance
198 pages

Jul Kisling's heart aches for the homeless children living beyond her office window. Her father, Chancellor of the Third Quadrant of Akila, refuses to use his power to help them. Frightened but determined, Jul secretly searches for transportation to bring some of the children to a newly-colonized planet.

Marc Prejean is an out-of-work, out-of-money Earth starpilot living on the land of his Cajun ancestors. Wrongfully convicted of smuggling and recently released from forcedsleep, he reluctantly agrees to Jul's proposition. His desperate situation, the betrayal of his wife and brother, the loss of his starpilot license, and his stolen six years have left Marc angry and withdrawn.

Marc and Jul begin a journey of agonizing mistrust, smoldering sexual desire, and the shared goal of safeguarding the twelve children. Pursued by ruthless adversaries on both sides of the law, they soon realize they are delivering the children into even greater danger.

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"Jul," he began. Trouble was, he didn't know where to go next.
She filled the silence by saying, "I'm sorry about the gamepieces. I don't know why I jumped into Isak that way. I was just... startled, I guess."
"That's one of the things I want to talk about. Why were you so startled when I offered you the mancala stones? You seem very... well, wary... of being around me. Is it... are you afraid of me, Jul? I know we don't know each other very well--"
"I'm not afraid of you. I've seen how gentle you are with the children, how patient you are with all of us."
"Then what? Have I hurt your feelings?"
Her lips tightened as she tried to form her answer. Marc's neck grew stiff and he raised his head from the wall. Putting his feet on the floor, he leaned his forearms on his knees. Obviously, he had offended her somehow. In the painful silence, a tendril of shame curled and burned through his abdomen. He had accomplished the one thing he had struggled not to do the first time they'd met -- show her how different they were, how coarse he could be. It was just as well; she would surely despise him once they arrived at Iberon.
"Marc, please understand."
She fell silent again, and Marc could hear her breathing, labored as if volatile words were threatening to erupt.
"Just say it!" he demanded, unable to bear the acid in his soul.
"All right, I will." She took another deep breath and lifted her chin. "I have no desire to lie to you, Marc. It's just very hard... for me to say this. I think... I think... you're an amazing man. I know this trip is much more difficult than you expected, yet you've done a lot to make it easier on everyone else, including me. I'll always be grateful for the kindness you've shown these children. I dare say they've never met a man who treats them the way you do, like the precious human beings they are. Sometimes... you treat me that way. When I was hurt, you reassured me and... and you told me things about yourself. I felt a connection to you, comfortable with you. But then -- I don't know -- you stopped looking at me."
Opposing waves of guilt and relief flooded Marc, drowning his words. He wanted to tell her what a profound effect the kids had had on him. They were precious human beings, each one unique and special to him after such a short time. Just as she was special. He wanted to be close to her, to discover and cherish everything about her.
Yet, Jul couldn't possibly love him and forget Gabe, especially not after only three days. And they were on their way to Iberon. If -- when -- he reported her to the Iberion authorities, they would never see each other again.
"It's the kids, your plans for the kids. I know I agreed not to ask any questions, but if I understood why you were taking them to Orum--"
"Please, ask me anything but that," she begged in anguish.
"Why can't you tell me?"
"You must trust me. These children had nothing on Akila. I'm taking them to a better life. That's all I can say. Please, please, don't ask me any more."
Her eyes were red from lack of sleep and barely restrained tears. She was in such obvious misery Marc couldn't keep pushing her. His heart could hear she believed she was taking them to a better life. She wasn't trafficking them out of greed or malice. Was that enough to excuse her from the legal consequences of her actions? Was that enough for him?
"I guess we both have secrets," he conceded. "I suppose we can work together in spite of them. Maybe we could... be friends while we're on the ship."
"I'd like very much to have you as a friend."
"Gabe won't feel we've betrayed him?"
"Gabe? No, why would Gabe mind? My friendship with you won't lessen my friendship with him."
"Friendship? You aren't... lovers?"
"Oh, no, I've never felt that way about Gabe. We're just very good friends. Like... like maybe you and I could be."
He couldn't help it. A wave of elation rolled over him, washing away a layer of shame he'd been carrying about his attraction to her. He took her hands and cradled them in his palms. The now-familiar rush of desire filled him. He ignored it, and knew he would have to stay strong enough to ignore it repeatedly, because he would no longer deprive himself of touching her. He studied her graceful fingers and stroked her wrists with his thumbs.
He glanced up at her face and found her eyes were closed. Long, dark lashes rested against the high, pink cheeks and Marc wondered what it would be like to kiss those eyelids, those cheeks, the slightly parted mouth. Yet, he was entrusted with her safekeeping, even from his unwelcome advances. This was no way for a friend to act. He placed her hands in her lap and sat back.
She opened her eyes and stared at him.Marc looked away and said, "I plan to talk to Isak about him and Min."
After a moment, she nodded. "Yes, I don't want to keep them apart longer than necessary."
"But, you said--"
"I know. But, I had a dream last night... Never mind. I just realized once you've found someone whom you love with your whole heart and spirit, spending one unnecessary minute away from them is like... like being in an airsuit in deep space. You know you have enough air and warmth to survive, but it's not the same as being in the spaceship."
"No, it's not the same." The quiet words slipped out, surprising Marc as much as Jul.
"Have you felt it? Is there someone you want to be with, but you can't?"
Marc scoffed. If she only knew. "Yes, I've felt it, chère. But in my case, it would never work. She wouldn't be interested, comprends?"
"Have you told her how you feel?"

The conversation was becoming too uncomfortable for Marc. He needed to change the direction his thoughts were flying. Friendship was better; he could offer friendship to Jul, and expect a rich friendship in return. He would never feel satisfied, but at least he would not have his heart wrenched out again, as his wife had done. An airsuit was better than nothing.
About the Author
Marina Landry has gained attention in both the romance and science fiction communities for her
heart-warming, emotionally intense, character-driven stories. Her debut novel A Star Called Home (Desert Breeze Publishing) has consistently received five out of five stars on multiple online book review sites. Marina has taught language arts and mathematics in south Louisiana for 18 years. She speaks on the craft of writing and teaches all levels of writers online. Though her education has not followed a typical path nor timeline, she has Masters Degrees in Education of the Academically Gifted, Secondary Mathematics Education, and Adult Education.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Amazon * Goodreads

$25 Amazon

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Friday, February 2, 2018

Virtual Book Tour and Giveaway: Caressed by the Edge of Darkness by Amanda J. Greene

Paranormal Romance

Date Published: 10/10/17

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Hardened by centuries of torture, former blood slave, Gabriel Erhard, is driven by an insatiable need to destroy his enemies. Violence darkens his battered soul, leaving no place for mercy in his world. Gabriel’s only desire is vengeance—until he finds her.

Seized by vampires, bound as a slave, and placed on the auction block, Jordan Culver is instantly entranced by the dangerous male who claims her. Jordan’s new captor vows to set her free, but his haunted gaze burns with savage desire and his wicked kiss makes her crave his touch and...complete surrender.

While Gabriel battles his enemies, he will break every sacred law to achieve his ultimate goal—uniting the Outcast Society and creating a new vampire Clan. But the distracting human with mesmerizing violet eyes jeopardizes his plans. With very soft whisper she evokes his tormented memories, testing his sanity and challenging his every boundary. Can Jordan help him overcome the miseries of his past and find a future with her?


When Jordan heard Ross’s blood chilling growl, awareness plowed into her, overwhelming her delicate senses. The lights were blinding and she had to will her eyes to focus while the sounds of cracking bones and pained moans assaulted her ears. Her instincts recognized what her brain couldn’t seem to process, a fight had broken out.
As her vision cleared, Jordan swallowed a scream. The hostess lie in a heap on the floor, bodies of guards with their necks twisted and bone extending from distorted limbs were piled high, blocking the door.
This wasn’t a fight. She was in the middle of a battle and, thanks to Ross whose’s arm was like a steal band around her waist, she had the privilege of being front and center.
The nauseating sound of crushing vertebra drew Jordan’s gaze to the dark figure in the corner. He held a guard off the ground, his large, black leather clad hand wrapped around the weaker vampire’s throat. He guard’s neck snapped, his head wrenching to the side when the figure released him.
Had he done all this?
Ross slowly retreated until the heel of his boots hit the wall. Jordan could feel the chill of the winter storm seeping past the glass of the window behind them.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ross demanded.
The figure slowly turned. His perfectly black tailored suite with matching back shirt and tie were a striking contrast to the white walls. The black paisley bandana concealed his face, the fedora he wore cast shadows over his features. Thought she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt his burning gaze.
Oh, god. Was he the man who purchased her?
The dark male rolled his wide shoulders, ready and waiting for his next opponent. The distant pounding of boots splintered the strained silence that filled the room. Jordan recognized the sound. More guards.
“Who are you, asshole? Who do you work for?” Ross commanded.
The figure shook his head. “Give me the girl.”
His deep, rough voice brushed over her. Calming. Soothing. Enthralling. Jordan began to tremble.
Me. He wants me. Fear, hope, and…excitement quickened her pulse. She knew it was foolish to think this new vampire would be any better than the slave traders, but she now had the element of surprise on her side and a chance to escape. Ross would never share that she had killed two of his men. The dark figure was dangerous, but he would underestimate her like all the others. Jordan just needed to survive the moment. Ross was using her as a human shield. If the mysterious vampire attacked, she’d be a goner.
“You haven’t paid,” Ross sneered. He tightened his grip around her waist.
Jordan gasped in pain and the dark figure growled low, “Careful.”
Ross laughed. “Worried I might injure the little mortal?” His hand slipped around her throat, his fingers bruising. “I can break her neck if I want.” Ross nipped at the tip of her ear.
Jordan cringed and craned her neck, trying to turn away, but he held her firm. Using the only play open to her, Jordan turned toward Ross and sank her teeth into his cheek.
With a vicious roar, he shoved her away. Jordan fell hard to her knees, landing beside the hostess. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t support her. God damn it, the drug was still in her system.
“Bitch!” Ross seethed. Grabbing her by the hair, he drew her up. “You’ll pay for that.”
Jordan spit his blood in his face and smiled when Ross’s eyes turned pure black with rage.
“Your death won’t be easy,” he hissed.
Jordan struggled for freedom, but her limbs remained useless.
Guards began to bang on the door. It wouldn’t be long until they busted in, sweeping the bodies aside. They would swarm the small office, kill the dark vampire, and Ross would punish her.
“Enough,” the figure commanded, his voice deathly calm.
Jordan was spun around, her back hitting Ross’s chest once more. His arm snaked around her middle his finger digging into her hip while his other hand continued to grip her hair.
The dark figure tore off the bandana, the fabric floated down to cover the face of his last victim. His long, gloved fingers gently pinched the brim of his hat. With a nonchalant air and smooth movement, he flipped the fedora from his head, tumbled it down his arm and carefully sat it on the desk.
Jordan sucked in a painful breath, her eyes going wide, her mouth falling open, her mind went numb. It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t be here. Not really. She must’ve finally lost it. Her mind must have finally cracked. She blink once, twice, three times and he remained there, standing just a grasp away.
He was even more stunning than she remembered. Strands of blond hair fell across his brow and framed the hard, sculpted lines of his face: perfectly square jawline, full lips, and defined cheekbones. Crystal green eyes, threaded with threads of obsidian, locked on her. His gaze was mesmerizing, beautifully dangerous. Entranced, Jordan reached for him. The tips of her fingers tingled. She wanted to touch him. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to make certain he was real, that he wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. A character created by her brain to help her cope with the horrific memories of the night she’d be captured. But he had been there. He’d come to see her preform. He’d followed her backstage.
“Gabriel Erhard,” Ross snarled.
Gabriel? Yes, yes! This was the man that had come to her show. This was the man who made her heart skip. The man that had offered her a record contract. No, he was the vampire that attacked Boras’s territories and freed the slaves. He had been her only hope for escape and he was here.
“Give me the girl.”
The pounding on the door intensified, the guards would be in any moment.
“All those raids on my warehouses,” Ross chuckled. “All the slaves you released.” His fingers squeezed around her throat. Jordan gasped for air. Her lungs began to burn. She clawed at his hand, her nails scratching, drawing blood. Still, Ross held her. “Have you been searching for her?”
The black shards swirled in Gabriel’s eyes, darkening the gentle green and bleeding in to the white until his gaze was completely consumed by wrathful darkness. Demon eyes. His lips pulled from his long, razor sharp fangs.
Ross growled, “She’s mine, Erhard!”
The door splintered, the bodies of the incapacitated guards were shoved aside as vampires rushed in, filling the room, surrounding Gabriel.
Ross pressed his lips against her temple and whispered, “You’ll never have her.”

His grip on her throat eased as he swung her around. Glass shattered and rained down upon them, nicking her cheek, her arms, and legs. They were falling. Jordan managed to suck in enough air to scream.

About the Author

Amanda J. Greene creates paranormal romance for ravenous readers. She lives in Southern California, where she enjoys escaping the rewarding but hectic world of writing by spending time in the sun and sand with her military husband and their two dogs.

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