Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Wands, Fangs and Wings Day 6!



Welcome to DAY SIX of A Week of Wands, Fangs and Wings - A Paranormal Book Blog Tour!

Every day this week, August 15 - 22, we will feature books by EIGHT different authors. What kind of books? Paranormal! What do we mean by paranormal? Well, just as the title implies: wands, fangs, wings and everything in between. Pretty much, if it isn’t real, it might be here. If you enjoy reading all things paranormal, we are about to hand you heaven on a gilded plate. Or, at least, on your e-reader.

What do we have in store for you? Excerpts from cool books. A fun Q&A session with the even-cooler authors who wrote them. A rafflecopter contest in which you could win a total of ELEVEN e-books. Wait, let’s note that again, just for clarification.

Eleven. Books. Free.

Score! The contest closes at midnight on Thursday, and the winner will be announced Friday evening, so don’t forget to enter. As if you would. In the meantime, let’s learn a little about Rosanna Leo. She’s a multi-published erotic romance author with Liquid Silver Books. Want to know how many books she’s published? Check out www.rosannaleo.blogspot.com, or Facebook at www.facebook.com/rleoauthor1, or on Twitter @LeoRosanna.

Roseanna had two books featured on our blog tour. Let’s have a sampling of Predator’s Kiss and Predator’s Claim, shall we?

Predator’s Kiss is first:

She was already reviving a few minutes later. Ryland let out a sigh of relief.
Thank God. When he’d first seen the petite woman hurtling through the trees, he’d worried someone was after her. But no one else had barreled behind her. And yet she’d seemed so scared.
They hadn’t helped, presenting her with a couple of snarling bears.
She moaned a little, and the soft sound warmed him, making him hard again. Damn. He glanced around the room, remembered he didn’t exactly tend to stash clothes in guest cabins, and raced for the bathroom. He grabbed a couple of clean towels off the rack and tossed one to Soren. “Cover yourself.”
Soren grinned like a devil and motioned to his nude bottom half. “I can conduct my flirting business much more efficiently this way.”
Ryland glared as he wrapped his lower half in the towel. “Cover yourself or I’ll strangle you with it, lover boy.”
His brother placed the woman’s backpack on the floor and threw the towel about his waist. “Such animosity is really not in keeping with your sainthood, Brother Ryland.”
Ryland ignored him and turned back to the woman. He didn’t know why it mattered so much she recover and feel comfortable in his presence, but it did. Of course, as owner of the lodge, it made sense he didn’t want to see anyone scared or hurt.
Yeah. That’s it. That’s all.
His rationalization did nothing to quell the nervous tremors in his gut, though. Or his excruciating hard-on.
Okay, she’s sorta pretty and has a body made for sin. So what? Get over yourself.
Clearly, it had been too long since he’d allowed himself to get lost in a woman’s body for more than a quick fuck. And this woman’s body deserved slow, leisurely loving. Greedy licks. Sensual tugs. Why, her breasts alone were so full and perfect, they just begged one to suck. To say nothing of those rounded hips and soft, womanly ass.
Ryland ran a hand over his face, feeling overly hot. Jesus Christ. Stop thinking like a horny teenager. You sound like Carter.
Besides, she was nothing like him. Human. And if time had taught him anything, it was the pursuit of romance with a nonshifter was a fool’s errand. She didn’t belong here on his resort, on his island. He needed to revive her and get her out of there.
Desperate to relieve the sudden, raging desire shooting up through his body, Ryland forced himself to look away from the woman. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of his brother. Soren was sitting next to her, his gaze contemplative, his eyes trained on her boobs. Ryland realized he didn’t like the way baby brother was looking at her. “Hey.”
Soren looked up. “What?”
“What are you staring at?”
Without batting an eye, Soren turned back to their unexpected guest. “Her. Can’t I stare?”
Ryland’s eyebrows shot up. “Staring at women has already gotten you into trouble. Maybe you should find a new hobby.” He stifled the low growl building in his throat. Now wasn’t the time for brawling, but he didn’t appreciate the way his brother gawked. His cool eye, appraising, as if he’d never seen anything like her before.
“You were checking her out too,” Soren replied.
“No, I wasn’t. I’m not interested in this … person,” Ryland retorted. As he uttered the words, he bit his tongue hard by mistake, as if confirming the words were a lie. “Damn,” he whispered, tasting blood.
“Do you think someone was chasing her?” Soren asked in a pensive tone, picking up one of his drumsticks and stroking it as if it were a lover’s finger.
“I don’t know.” Ryland sat on the other side of her small body and looked her up and down as she lay under the covers. Despite his mistrust of humans, he couldn’t help wondering who would frighten such a tiny, delicate thing. Had someone tried to hurt her? The very idea made him want to bash his head against the wall. Or better yet, bash any lowlife who dared to touch her.
No one touches her but me, his heart declared.
What?
As another stress headache shot through his brain, he wondered at the ferocity and lunacy of the feeling.


Now, for Predator’s Claim:


He pushed aside one of the suitcases in his way and backed her up against the sitting room wall. He put his hands on either side of her head, closing her in, and leaned toward her. Soaking up the scent of her talc-scented skin and her womanly heat, he inhaled deeply, knowing she was hot for him. “Did our kiss mean nothing to you?”
She blinked. As she stared at him, tears threatened, pooling at the corners of her eyes, but she banished them with another punishing series of blinks. “Nothing.”
Oh, she was good, but he was better. No kidding a kidder, after all. He wet his lips and pinned his gaze on hers, which were now trembling ever so slightly. “You’re fooling yourself.”
“I’m not,” she said on a gulp. “I’m not…”
“Oh yes, you are,” he warned, his voice low and deep. “But that’s gonna stop here and now, Charles.” He moved his face closer to hers, bent his head, and dragged his tongue up the length of her neck. When she gasped, he felt her hold her breath and moved his tongue as slowly as possible. He ground his hips against her, and his cock thumped violently against her belly.
She slammed her hands against the wall behind her, clearly trying to get purchase on anything but him. Even still, her hips rolled against his in obvious invitation. “I want you to stop,” she cried. Her chest jerked as the plaint escaped her, and her tears finally tumbled down her cheeks.
He moved away, just millimeters so she could breathe. Cupping her face, he stared her right in the eyes. “Say it again, and maybe I’ll believe you this time.”
“I want you to…” she squeaked.
“What was that? I can’t quite hear you, princess.”
Her lips wobbled and her eyes crinkled in what could only be agony of the worst kind. “I want…Oh God! I want you.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding and shots of heat radiated through him.
Yes!
He took her mouth in a savage kiss, meant to illustrate his dominance over her. He nipped at her lips, none too gently, and felt them swell under his touch. Good. That’s how he wanted her. Plump and overcome and ready for him. Always.
As he drove his tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers, he heard her groan. Ecstasy made his cock riot in his pants, and he would have done anything in that moment to strip her of her clothes and plunge into her sweet moisture. His Charlotte. His woman. He’d make her his in every sense of the word, and soon.


Enter the rafflecopter contest below for a chance to win all eleven books featured on this blog tour. But, if you can’t wait for Predator’s Kiss and Predator’s Claim, you can purchase them here, and you’ll be reading in seconds:














Tuesday, 19 August 2014

Wands, Fangs and Wings, Day 5!


Welcome to DAY FIVE of A Week of Wands, Fangs and Wings - A Paranormal Book Blog Tour!

This Blog Tour runs August 15 – 22, and during that time we will feature books by EIGHT different authors. What kind of books? Paranormal! What do we mean by paranormal? Well, just as the title implies: wands, fangs, wings and everything in between. Pretty much, if it isn’t real, it might be here. If you enjoy reading all things paranormal, we are about to hand you heaven on a gilded plate. Or, at least, on your e-reader.

What do we have in store for you? Excerpts from cool books. A fun Q&A session with the even-cooler authors who wrote them. A rafflecopter contest in which you could win a total of ELEVEN e-books. Wait, let’s note that again, just for clarification.

Eleven. Books. Free.

Score! The contest closes at midnight on Thursday, and the winner will be announced Friday evening, so don’t forget to enter. As if you would. In the meantime, let’s learn about Patricia Eddy, and her featured books, Secrets in Blood and By the Fates, Freed!

Thanks to NaNoWriMo, Patricia began writing with fervor in 2011 (and even managed to finish a few books), and she hasn’t stopped since! She is also a founding partner in PageCurl Publishing and Promotion, dedicated to helping all authors succeed without breaking the bank.

She’s a big fan of social media:


Want a sample of what sort of books Patricia writes? There are two excerpts below. The first is from Secrets in Blood:

Light. Nicola Angliatti’s first thought was that it was unnaturally light. Where was he? He tried to bring his hand up to shield his eyes, but he found it wouldn’t move more than a couple of inches. There was pain. His skin was on fire and his chest ached with every weak breath.

The world slowly came into focus. Above him were bars. He turned his head. More bars. His fangs lengthened automatically in response to the pain coursing through his body. The harsh scent of antiseptic assaulted his nose.

He looked down at his chest. An angry bullet wound just above his heart and another in his abdomen were still oozing blood. The girl. The vampire snarled and tried to sit up, but he was too weak; he collapsed back onto the floor. His wrists were shackled to a chain around his waist. He tried to break the chain, but his limbs held little strength. The chains were silver.

Merda!” he cursed in his native Italian. His shirt was gone, as were his jeans, socks, and shoes, but he was still wearing his boxers. His legs were unfettered. Unsteadily, he climbed to his feet and tested the bars around the fifteen foot cage he was in. All silver. He kicked at them, but every time his bare foot contacted the silver, he groaned in pain.
Humans. He’d been trapped by humans. The sweet girl’s father and his friends. At least she wasn’t in on it. Her father had all but confirmed it. The trust and acceptance in her eyes had warmed his heart.

Knowing there was nothing he could do to comfort the girl maddened him. The rich scent of her blood had been intoxicating--it was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. There was something special about her. He had not fed from a human since the 1921 treaty he had helped pen, and though he had been tempted, he could never have harmed such innocence. Now, he would surely pay for his kindness with his life.

He was hungry. How long had he been out? The bullets had been removed, but silver wounds healed slowly without human blood to fortify him. A day? A week? No doubt he had missed his planned briefing with the vampire law enforcement in Seattle. The Conclave would look for him. But if he was deep underground, would they ever find him?

“Finally awake, are you?” came the thin, reedy voice from the corner of the room.
Nicola’s head whipped around. “Where am I?” he asked. His voice sounded hoarse and strange to him in this cold, sterile room.

“Does it matter? You’re never leaving.” Slow footsteps approached. The girl’s father smiled a thin-lipped smile. “The cage and the chains are silver. You will not break free.”

****

Oh my! And now for Patricia’s second book, By the Fates, Freed:

Her desperate grip on my fingers loosened as her eyes fluttered closed. My magic burst forth over my skin, enveloping us in a warm vortex. I hadn’t felt my protective magic flare like that in years. Withdrawing the amulet, I secured it around her neck, just below the shackle. It pulsed with her heartbeat, slower and slower. I touched the ruby and in the old language, I murmured the spell, “I bind your life to mine.” The amulet glowed brighter as the pulsing slowed to a stop. Her life force weighed heavily on me and I struggled to draw air into my lungs.

The draught of monkshood needed only a few more seconds. Her body gave up its spirit and the shackle split in two. Snatching up the athame, I used it to fling the shackle across the room, sending a powerful spell of unmaking in its wake with a flick of my wrist. As it hit the wall, it shattered into a handful of pieces and a pulse of energy reverberated through the room. Gently, I pricked her palm and then nicked the vein at my wrist, exposing a single drop of my blood. I pressed the sphere to the blood, and it glowed blue as it absorbed a bead of my life force. I dropped the sphere into her palm and closed her fingers around it.

Magic danced over her skin as her body took the power within her. The amulet burned bright enough to blind me as I completed the spell. “My heart held you here. My blood revives you.

I gathered her in my arms, barely able to control my fear. Against the pounding in my chest she was preternaturally still and I begged the Fates with each passing second to release her to me. Finally, my prayers were answered. Her first ragged breath of life nearly shattered me and I crushed her against my chest, closing my eyes for a long moment and pressing my lips to her hair. Finally, I drew back to look at her. An old scar slashed through her lower lip, giving her mouth the barest hint of sadness. I ached to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered and she stirred. “Sleep.” I murmured, not wanting to expose her to what I had planned to do next.

I caressed her pale cheek. Already she had more color, freed from the constant icy grip of the devil’s magic, but she was far from safe. I returned the amulet, the athame, and the sphere to the leather pouch and wrapped her in the waistcoat I’d left here days ago.


What does he plan to do next!? Buy Links:




Want more paranormal? Two books by Rosanna Leo will be featured tomorrow! And don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter contest!




Monday, 18 August 2014

Wands, Fangs and Wings Day 4!


Welcome to DAY FOUR of
A Week of Wands, Fangs and Wings - A Paranormal Book Blog Tour!

From August 15-22, we will feature books by EIGHT different authors. What kind of books? Paranormal! What do we mean by paranormal? Well, just as the title implies: wands, fangs, wings and everything in between. Pretty much, if it isn’t real, it might be here. If you enjoy reading all things paranormal, we are about to hand you heaven on a gilded plate. Or, at least, on your e-reader.

What do we have in store for you? Excerpts from cool books. A fun Q&A session with the even-cooler authors who wrote them. A rafflecopter contest in which you could win a total of ELEVEN e-books. Wait, let’s note that again, just for clarification.

Eleven. Books. Free.

Score!

The contest closes at midnight on Thursday, and the winner will be announced Friday evening, so don’t forget to enter! As if you would. In the meantime, we have A.J. Naverre and Tami Lund featured on today’s blog. Ash has a book out called Good as Dead, while Tami released a paranormal called Into the Light.

A.J. lives in the smog-filled oasis of California's Central Valley, where she spends the days at a desk covered in paper and half-empty ru       m bottles.

Find A.J. at http://ajnavarre.wordpress.com/, at her Facebook page www.facebook.com/storyscribbler, and at Twitter @OutlineofAsh.

We asked A.J. a few questions, because everybody likes to get to know the person behind the book, right? This is what she had to say:

1. Red or white? We're talking about wine, right? Then both. I'm a writer - the only thing I like more than words is booze.
2. Fave paranormal being? Werewolf. I love the idea of a dual nature stuck in one body, and how many ways that can be explored.
3. Favorite author? Mikhail Bulgakov. His work manages to be satirical, grotesque, fantastic, and realistic all at once. I love it.
4. Do you like heroines who get rescued, or heroines who do the rescuing? I like it when a story has a heroine going through both experiences. Makes things a little more complicated.
5. Cover - hot guy or unique/creative? Unique/creative always draws me in more than rippling abs - though those are nice to look at, too.

I don’t know about you, but I am really intrigued to see what A.J. writes. Well guess what? There’s an excerpt of Good as Dead below!


As if sensing my doubts, Gideon says, “Are you sure about this?”
I settle the purse over my shoulder and move for the kitchen door, wanting to get it over with. “Laci specifically said wood. Maybe silver only burns vampires.”
“I meant attempting to kill him.”
“Oh. Yeah. Are you?” It never occurred to me that he might try to ruin my plan, and I give him a sharp look as we step into the garden, scrutinizing his expression for any hint of reluctance.
But he has his agent face on. “Even if I were to collect enough evidence to arrest him, it’s very possible he might be released by my superiors. When they dismissed my report, I discovered signs that certain people in the Kingdom would prefer Scheer to be charged, no matter what. And INKtech, despite what it conveys otherwise, isn’t above political machinations. If the evidence is there, then yes, I agree killing him is the only way to be truly safe.”
I’m not an idiot; I know most people in official positions dip into corruption when it suits them. Try experiencing just one bad hospice counselor without losing faith in the safety of a system. But hearing Gideon admit it so flatly is a big shock. What will they do to him afterward? Something ripples through me, and it feels a lot like fear.
My silence must tip him off, because he glances at me. “Don’t worry; I’ve already considered the consequences. I’ll still help you.”
If that’s supposed to reassure me, it’s doing the complete opposite. “What kind of consequences?”
“Depends on the outcome, really.”
When he doesn’t say any more, I grab for his arm. “Wait a minute, I don’t want you doing this if you’ll be killed for—for insubordination or something.”
It’s deliberate hyperbole I’m using, trying to make him dismiss it as the absurd idea it should be. But he doesn’t smile at that, and the muscles under my fingers go tense. “No, I won’t be killed.”
I can only stare at him. His face still doesn’t show anything, but behind those quiet words is something that sounds like grief. “Gideon?”
“Phoenix, please. This is hardly the place to bare souls,” he says, shooting a significant glance at Valentine’s back door, which waits only steps away.
Can’t wait to read more? Buy link: http://amzn.com/B00IHRWZU6
****
Our second author of the day, Tami Lund, likes to live, love and laugh, and does her best to ensure the characters in her books do the same. After they’ve overcome a few seemingly insurmountable obstacles, of course.
She loves to be stalked via social media at www.tamilund.com, on Facebook: AuthorTamiLund, and on Twitter @TamiLundAuthor.
Let’s see what Tami has to say about our Q&A session…
1. Red or white? Both, although lately I’ve been hitting the vodka bottle. I heard a rumor that Vitamin C burns belly fat, and who drinks orange juice without either vodka or champagne?
2. Morning or evening? Morning.
2a. Was that answer in reference to writing… or something else? Um….
3. If you weren’t a writer, what would you be? Crazy. Oh wait….
4. Furbabies? How many? One, a mutt we adopted shortly after my 13 year old rescue furbaby passed. She loves to sit with me on the back porch while I write.
5. Antagonist: kill off or make disappear? Make disappear. That way, you are almost guaranteed a sequel.
How do those interesting answers translate into Tami’s writing? Read this excerpt from Into the Light:
“Yeah, I get that they got their magic from the sun,” Tanner acknowledged. He eyed the scrap of material in Mickey’s hand. “But no one has seen a trace of lightbearers in over five hundred years. Somebody wiped them out. Probably our kind, trying to inherit their magic.”
“Probably our kind eating them for dinner,” Finn contributed to the conversation for the first time. “Back then we were slightly more primal.”
“Slightly,” Tanner remarked tongue in cheek. Finn smirked. Tanner recalled how they used to hang out together as kids. They’d shifted for the first time together. Now, Finn was Quentin’s best tracker, and Tanner was doing his best to avoid getting sucked back into the pack. Time and change and all that.
“If a shifter kills a lightbearer, he’ll inherit its magic.” Mickey refused to give up on Quentin’s obsession.
Considering the only magic a shifter possessed was the ability to change forms at will, it was a heady idea to be able to steal another creature’s magic. Especially for one who considered himself to be the top of the food chain, even without much magic.
“Touch it,” Mickey demanded as he waved the bit of material in Tanner’s face.
Tanner batted at the material, if only to push it away. His fingers skimmed the surface. A jolt shot through his system, so raw and potent that his entire body reacted as if he’d been electrocuted.
“Told ya,” Mickey said triumphantly.
“Give me that,” Tanner said as he snatched the torn bit of material out of Mickey’s hand. He held it, reveling in the feel of magic there. It felt…intoxicating. “Where did you get this?” His breathing accelerated as he stared at the gold and silver thread that wove a pattern through the white material.
“The lightbearer. Your father figured you wouldn’t come unless you had proof.”
Tanner continued to stare at the material. It wasn’t true—was it? Tanner—and a great many other shifters—believed they didn’t really exist. His father had never let go of the belief that they were simply hiding, and all he had to do was find one of them. Just one.
Was his father right all along?
Fates be damned, but Tanner certainly hoped not. He’d spent the better part of his life desperately hating the man for what he represented, for how he ruled his pack, for the way he treated Tanner’s mother and every other woman in his pack. Most of all, he’d hated the man for his obsession over a race of magical creatures that Tanner had been certain no longer existed.
Tanner didn’t understand his father’s obsession. The man was already pack master over one of the largest and most respected—or at least feared—packs in the country. He didn’t need magic to gain prestige and power. He already had it all.
“Come on, Tanner,” Mickey begged. “He won’t let none of us see her until you come back to the pack. He says you get the first honor. Come on.”
Tanner continued to stare at the scrap of material for a few more moments, pondering his decision. Finally, he tossed the pool stick onto the table. “Damn it to hell,” he muttered as he turned and strode from the pool area, out of the bar and into the cool summer evening air.
Damn the man for luring him back like this.


Want more paranormal? Two books by Patricia D. Eddy will be featured tomorrow! And don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter contest!