Thursday, February 22, 2018

The Devil Makes Three by Evelyn Vox blitz


The Devil Makes Three
Evelyn Vox
(Share Me, #1)
Publication date: September 8th 2017
Genres: Erotica, Romance
LEXIE
I know what you must think of me.
You’re going to think I’m a whoring trophy wife.
You have to believe me when I tell you, I do love my husband.
I tried to stop it. I tried to resist him.
But there was no resisting Derek Drake.
And if you were me, you wouldn’t have been able to, either.
DEREK
As long as I can remember, the beast has been inside of me.
It’s a monster with dark desires and carnal needs.
When it sees something it wants, it won’t be denied.
Alexandra Hale was a Princess, a spoiled brat who needed to be taught a lesson.
The moment the beast saw her, it claimed her. It was only a matter of time before it got out and took her.
It didn’t help that she so clearly wanted to be taken.
When Manhattan socialite Lexie Hale hires the dark, brooding Derek Drake to remodel her house in the Hamptons, she never imagined the deep, forbidden desires he’d awaken inside of her. There’s just one little problem: Lexie is married. How long can she resist Derek’s promise to dominate her and take her in ways her husband never could? And what will happen when her husband finds out?
Share Me: The Devil Makes Three is a steamy, heart racing erotic romance about the forbidden lust and even more forbidden desires between a married woman and her Alpha male contractor. It includes cheating, consensual, hard BDSM, an MFM scene, and a taboo cuckold relationship. Not for the faint of heart!
First novel in the Share Me Series
A Club Midnight Novel
EXCERPT:
I pulled up the album full of photos I’d saved and we went through them. I swiped away, explaining what I liked about each one, nerves fueling my gabbing more than anything else. He listened without saying a word, nodding here and there.
“This is my favorite picture,” I told him.
It was an ornate master bathroom with a huge tub, cream and gold accents, and white marble. He reached out and angled the phone so he could have a better look. Our hands brushed against each other, but instead of moving away, he let his rest against mine. The light, simple contact sent a shock through my system, and I knew he could hear the way my breath hitched when he touched me.
“You don’t need to flatter me, Alexandra,” he said, looking up at me, no, into me, with those dazzlingly gray eyes.
Like some bashful school girl, I was still distracted by the press of his hand against mine. I decided that I liked the way my full name sounded, coming out of those sensual lips of his. He was looking at me with the intensity at full blaze again. It sent a thrill of butterflies shooting down my stomach, and I took a moment too long to reply.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t have to show me pictures of my own work to convince me to take on this project.”
“I had no idea,” I breathed, “this really is my favorite of all the pictures. It’s a bathroom fit for–”
“A goddess,” he finished my sentence, never releasing me from his searing gaze.
His face was close. Too close.
I really couldn’t get over the color of his eyes. I’d never seen eyes like his before, like polished slate. The tension between us ramped up to an unbearable pitch, and he looked like he was about to devour me.
What scared me most was that I wanted him to.


Author Bio:
My readers and I are one in the same: we like it dark, and we like it dirty. If you like dominant men, strong-as-hell heroines, and heart-racing plots with lots of kink, then welcome to our wicked little club. My characters will take you on a wild ride as they give into their most forbidden desires, uncovering their truest selves along the way. Always steamy and extra sinful, my romances will have you embracing your dark side in no time.
Evelyn lives in Brooklyn, and some might be so bold as to call her a *gasp* hipster. When she's not busy ordering a craft beer or drinking kombucha, she works part-time at a wellness center. No matter what she's doing, her mind lives full-time in smutland, always thinking of new ways to torture those hunky Alpha males and the ladies they love to play with.
Check out my website for updates, newsletter sign-ups, and giveaways!

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Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Fire and Bone by Rachel A. Marks blitz


Fire and Bone
Rachel A. Marks
(Otherborn #1)
Publication date: February 20th 2018
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult
“Gossip Girl meets Percy Jackson in the glitz and grit of L.A….”
In Hollywood’s underworld of demigods, druids, and ancient bonds, one girl has a dangerous future.
Sage is eighteen, down on her luck, and struggling to survive on the streets of Los Angeles. Everything changes the night she’s invited to a party—one that turns out to be a trap.
Thrust into a magical world hidden within the City of Angels, Sage discovers that she’s the daughter of a Celtic goddess, with powers that are only in their infancy. Now that she is of age, she’s asked to pledge her service to one of the five deities, all keen on winning her favor by any means possible. She has to admit that she’s tempted—especially when this new life comes with spells, Hollywood glam, and a bodyguard with secrets of his own. Not to mention a prince whose proposal could boost her rank in the Otherworld.
As loyalties shift, and as the two men vie for her attention, Sage tries to figure out who to trust in a realm she doesn’t understand. One thing’s for sure: the trap she’s in has bigger claws than she thought. And it’s going to take a lot more than magic for this Celtic demigoddess to make it out alive.
EXCERPT:
LILY
I try to hide my shivering as I wait before the altar, in my position as the Bonding begins. Around me, shadows dance over the cairn walls from the restless flames licking up the ram’s body—the sacrifice on the pyre behind me—and the smell of sweat and burnt flesh smother the smoky air.
The King of Ravens paints an alarming image, standing almost naked across from me on the other side of the blood circle. He wears the corona radiata, the golden laurel-leafed crown, on his head of onyx hair. His short beard is neatly trimmed, combed with lavender oil for the ceremony. His sharp silver eyes study me beneath a heavy brow.
I try not to think about the past. Or future. I try not to think about what those hard hands will feel like on my skin when he seals this Bond.
I study the stone floor rather than look in those metallic eyes. I feel them on me, though, the same way they have been for the fortnight I’ve been here preparing for the ceremony. He hasn’t touched me; he’s only brought me gifts and insisted I sit with him beside the greatfire in the evening before he goes out for his hunt. Sometimes I smell him in the hallway outside my rooms. But he never comes in, thank the goddess. The scent of blood is heavy on him in those moments. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if he’d attempted anything.
After this is done, it won’t matter. My bed will be his. As will my life.
A druid walks back and forth behind me, tossing rosemary and lavender onto the pyre after each stanza of his spell. He calls to the wind from the east, he calls to the waters in the west, and he pulls the spirit of flame and earth into the cairn with us, asking the Penta to approve the Bond set to be made between the two most powerful Houses, as he pleads for a blessing from our mothers, Brighid and MorrĂ­gan, and thanks the Cast for their permission to seal the Bond between the two very different powers.
A female druid comes to my side with bowl and brush, beginning to paint my skin in blue woad, tracing patterns of knots and runes across my back, then baring my chest and continuing.
The king’s gaze follows the woman’s strokes, and when she’s finished, he raises his chin at me in approval but says nothing. What does he see when he looks at me? My wild copper hair? My simple features? The awkward birthmark just above my heart? I’m round of cheek and hips and not much of a beauty. But however I look to him, I will belong to him.
Determination is set in hard lines on his face, and I wonder if the torque on his neck is working properly. I can see his dark energy lifting in silver and black curls over his shoulders now. It should be tight inside his skin, as mine is. The iron shackle should be holding it in place so that we don’t harm each other in the first merging, before we can get used to the feel of each other’s powers.
The female druid moves to the king next and begins painting the woad in circles over his torso. The druid chanting behind me recites the final section of his spell, walking the ram’s-blood circle painted on the floor. He holds a rowan stick aloft, flicking rosewater over the king and then me as he passes by, mumbling, “A price paid, a covenant sealed, in earth and blood and ash, in spirit and flesh and fire.”
The price is my will, my soul, in payment for the life of the human prince that I took.
In the center of the circle, between the king and me, is an altar with two bowls set atop, one full of salt, one full of rye.
The iron union dagger rests between them.
I stare at it, imagining the blade cutting into my flesh. And I can’t help when my gaze moves to the king. I want to blink and make this moment a dream, perhaps find myself in the thicket with Lailoken, among the bluebells in the Caledonian wood.
I should run from this son of MorrĂ­gan, deny him, deny our mothers, and let the world burn. But my heart twists at the thought. I was running from duty when fate took my heart from me, when the prince succumbed to my fire’s will. It was the childish notion of freedom that tore him from me.
Now it’s time to accept my punishment for allowing the humans to glimpse our world. Time to atone.
The druid’s voice fills the room again. “When moon gives birth to stars,” he says, in a droning hum, flicking more rosewater over us with the rowan stick, “let this Bond be sealed in blood.”
My skin prickles with fear as the king takes the cue, reaching out to pick up the ceremonial dagger by the leather-wrapped hilt. I focus on not moving, not making a sound, as I watch him bring the blade to his chest, tip pricking his left breast. A drop of crimson pearls up at the spot.
With a slow hiss of breath, he cuts across.
Dark blood slides down his abdomen in a thick swath of red. “My blood with yours,” he says. And he turns the knife, holding out the hilt for me.
My hands clench into fists at my side, and I force my shaking limbs to still.
I breathe in slowly again. Then I reach out, taking the ceremonial dagger from him, careful not to touch his fingers.
I pretend not to care about the cage I’m about to be locked in. About the pain in my soul from loss, from the goddess Brighid abandoning me to this darkness, pain from the reality of everything in front of me.
I press the tip of the blade to the center of my chest, the point breaking the skin. I look into the silver eyes of the king in front of me. And consider my fate.
One deep plunge to the heart and the pain will end. One plunge.
One.


Author Bio:
Rachel A. Marks is a cancer survivor, a writer and artist, a surfer and dirt-bike rider, chocolate lover and keeper of faerie secrets. Her four kids and amazing hubby put up with her nerdiness with tremendous grace, even when she makes them watch Buffy or Smallville re-runs for days on end. She was voted: Most Likely To Survive A Zombie Apocalypse, but hopes she'll never have to test the theory.

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Shattered Destiny by Yumoyori Wilson & Tamara White blitz


Shattered Destiny
Yumoyori Wilson & Tamara White
(Reclaiming The Throne, #1)
Publication date: February 15th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
What if one act of kindness shatters your destiny? One moment that changed your life forever. Would you embrace it or fight with everything you had?
Born to a powerful mother and father, both highly respected in our clan for their magic and strength, I was neither powerful nor respected. I was born a null. Devoid of any of the strength or power of my clan and to make matters worse, my attempted shift into dragon form revealed I’m nothing more than a mere human.
When my mother became ill and my father abandoned us, I became the head of the household. I didn’t mind doing hard labor; actually, I enjoyed knowing I could be of use to my mother by performing the duties she could no longer do.
My life had become the same routine until I decided to step in and help an injured dragon who crossed my path. After healing them, my clan turned on me, taking me to the King to be interrogated. Now, I’m free and on the run – beginning my journey into the unknown.
I am Abigail Fiammetta. I vow to live and reclaim the shattered pieces of my life. Even if I have to kill to do so.
SHATTERED DESTINY is a new REVERSE HAREM, paranormal series. Recommended for 18+ audience, containing mature sexual content, violence and strong language.
EXCERPT:
“If you think I did such a horrible job, why don’t you stop talking the talk and walk the walk? Fight me,” I declared.
I could hear gasps around me, the villagers were clearly shocked by my announcement. Raphael narrowed his eyes at me, giving me a good up and down look. He grinned, sighing dramatically before he took a step forward, his tall frame hovering over me.
I wasn’t going to be intimidated by his height, glaring up at him in defiance as I stood my ground.
“You could get hurt, pretty girl,” he whispered low enough, so only I could heed his warning.
“I don’t care. Sometimes you need to prove your worth to be seen as an ally rather than a burden,” I whispered back.
I tried to ignore the soft fragrance that hit my nose and ignore his handsome face.
I bet all the women swooned over him, and even though I wouldn’t tell him to his face, he was attractive and doing his share of making my body tingle in want.
Maybe it was the weird connection I was trying to ignore—a force begging for us to be closer…to be one? Wait a minute. Did he just call me pretty?
He grinned, and for a second I saw pride flicker through his purple eyes that lingered on my lips before he stepped away.
“Alright. Let’s see what you’re made of, A-B-Gail.”


Author Bio:
Yumoyori Wilson is from Toronto, Ontario. She loves to sleep and write her days away. She works at night as a registered nurse. She has a little addiction to bubble tea and coffee but loves to workout. She has big plans for the writing world and can't wait to share them with everyone.



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Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Top Ten Tuesday: Uninteresting Books

Top Ten Tuesday is a weekly meme hosted by That Artsy Reader Girl. 
 Our first time doing Top Ten Tuesday in a long time, and the first time doing it now that it has switched from The Broke and the Bookish to That Artsy Reader Girl. Sad to see Broke and Bookish no longer blogging, but I am sure that TARG is going to do a wonderful job with Top Ten Tuesday! 

This week's topic asked for books that we are no longer interested in reading. So, here we go! 

House of Night series by PC and Kristin Cast





Iron Fey series by Julie Kagawa
 She should have stopped after three books. 



The Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare
 She also should have stopped on the third book. I got tired of Jace and all his daddy issues or whatever drama he had. Jace is out killing fucking demons/monsters he is such a bad ass hunter but when it comes to his daddy drama he is such a little baby, he needs to grow up some balls and be a man. Even now that she has moved on to other and new characters in the Shadowhunter world, I just can't read anything set there anymore. She needs to move on. 




Covenant Series by Jennifer Armentrout
Even though she is so nice and I went to her signing to have her books signed, I don't think I'll keep reading these books. I felt like Half Blood was a super rip off/copy of Vampire Academy, they are both almost the same.




I tend to be a big impulse book buyer. I've bought books without reading descriptions cause the cover was pretty, or I liked the name of a character. Then, when I get it home and give it a shot, I am full of regret. Unfortunately, it has happened to me a lot, but obviously not enough that I am actually going to stop doing it. 

Paper Princess by Erin Watt
This one I bought because it was gaining popularity, and it didn't sound bad. The problem is, the more popular something gets, the less likely I am to read it. I am the worst. 


Ink and Lies by SL Jennings
This one was because I am a sucker for watercolor. Like seriously, if a cover has a pretty watercolor cover, I'm gonna buy it. Even better, this really did sound like something I would love. But I started it, and there was a line in there about thinking it was sexy to shave someone, and my brain couldn't go further. I mean, if that's your thing, that's your thing. But is that really a thing? 




Mercury Striking by Rebecca Zanetti
This happened because there is such a wealth of post-apocalyptic young adult novels, but I was really wanting something more adult. The problem is, I have searched and bought quite a few, but they are always just so cheesily written. If you have any recs, I am totally down to give them a shot! 


The Forsaken by Lisa M Stasse 
I literally didn't notice this wasn't the English cover until right now, and I have already closed down my vector program, so I'm sticking with it. I don't know why I can't make myself read this book. I was really excited about it when I first bought it, but every time I look at it, I just don't feel like starting it. 

Book Blitz: THE SPITTING POST by Jason R. Barden

The Spitting Post Tour Graphic
THE SPITTING POST
Jason R. Barden
The Spitting Post
Genre: Horror, Dark Fantasy
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Publication Date: December 8, 2017
Vincent must find the Spitting Post, but only the purple swan knows the way.
Vincent Carpenter’s life is a wreck. He has given up his dreams. He has lost his job after an economic disaster. His ten-year marriage is crumbling. Then he awakens in a maniacal land of frighteningly vivid realism with skull trees, glowing forests, ravenous beasts, and other psychologically haunting adversity.
While traveling through this demented unearthly world, he has a chance encounter with a beautiful maiden dressed in green; before he can start a conversation, she disappears into the unknown. Vincent must try to find her at a fantastical place known as the Spitting Post. But first he must overcome many macabre misfortunes and face nightmares that question his sanity. Will he reach her? What will the Spitting Post reveal? Will he suffer more disappointment and tragedy? Or will he find peace at last?

Review from The Romance Reviews

Vincent Carpenter isn't having a good day. It's the weekend and he forgot to turn off his alarm. When he rolls out of bed, he's surprised to see that his wife, Erika, isn't there. When he does find her, he mentions the dinner reservations he'd made for their tenth anniversary but she doesn't want to go. What follows is a slow trip down a rabbit hole to the land of the mundane.
Until it isn't.
Suddenly, he awakens in a strange world where nothing is normal. From the glowing forests to the skull trees, Vincent is lost in a world that would rival the minds of some modern masters of the macabre. A chance meeting with the Green Maiden forces Vincent through this nightmare world in search of a place called the Spitting Post but to get there, he must face some intense nightmares that could destroy even the strongest of psyches.
I had no idea what to expect when I started reading this story and I found it as intriguing as it was disturbing and that's a good thing. With each new ordeal/event, Vincent finds himself more immersed in his nightmares, and we as readers, gain a bit more information. So much so that once you reach the end (Spoilers!), you'll find yourself going back to reread sections again.
For when you do: "You must rethink everything you thought you knew. You must let your mind go back to the beginning and reconsider what it is you thought was truth, what you thought was reality, and what you thought was a dream," and even then, THE SPITTING POST will surprise you.
Reprinted with permission from The Romance Reviews
The Spitting Post Teaser

Excerpt

When night settled in, the trees began their song of despair and completely blocked out any other noise. This is great, I thought. The beast could be right on me, and I would never even hear it. But the trees continued their sad symphony just the same.
With the thought of the beast ripping at my body and consuming my insides and the tree’s wailing, I found myself at the edge of lunacy. When dawn finally broke, the trees stopped their wailing, and the silence became deafening yet again. At last, peace and quiet. I picked myself up from the madness and marched onward. I was not a bit hungry, and my stomach was far too nervous for breakfast, so I went without. I also knew this would save time. One extra moment in this place was one too many.
Again I found my thoughts racing as fast as my feet. It would be a complete triumph when I escaped this land, or so I thought. If only I could make it to the bridge, then maybe I would be safe. As I raced on like a frightened animal about to become the beast’s dinner, I thought about the townspeople. I hoped they were safe in their new home far from here; I felt empathy for them knowing what fear the beast inspired.
I was lost in thought when again I heard the violin’s call. It was close this time—too close. I stopped and surveyed the land with terrified eyes, growing more anxious with each passing note. The ambient tune working itself into a manic frenzy. Can’t they shut up? With that racket the beast would find us, and I knew what would happen when it did. There would be no more violin playing for that musician, and I would never find The Green Maiden.
I scanned the countryside for the insane violinist and spotted him on a small hill just to my right. When I saw his ghastly appearance, I almost wished I hadn’t found him. He was a stout man dressed in total blackness with a red violin resting against his shoulder. His skin was a brilliant white, as white as a bed sheet. On his head was a black top hat, and he wore a twisted grin on his porcelain face.
“What are you doing?” I yelled. “It will hear us!”
The man said nothing and kept playing his maddening melody.
“Are you crazy?”
The man opened his mouth wide and without moving his lips, he said, “Precisely.”
Then he began to cry tears of blood, yet still he played. The blood rolled down his face and pooled on the grass. Then I came to a grotesque realization. He was not playing for amusement; he was calling the beast.

About Jason R. Barden

Jason R. Barden
Jason R. Barden began writing poetry around the age of thirteen. At age thirty three he decided to transition into fiction writing with his first novel The Spitting Post. In addition to writing he enjoys hiking and photography. Jason lives in Fort Worth, Texas where he is currently working on a collection of his poems.
Social media link: Facebook | Goodreads Author Page

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