Labels

Monday, December 21, 2020

My Sweet Vampire by Arabella Holmes



My Sweet Vampire
Arabella Holmes

Genre: Paranormal Romance Erotica
Publisher: Little Willow
Date of Publication: 29th November 2020
ASIN: B08N66SBMK
Number of pages:478
Word Count: 170,000
Cover Artist: E L Savage

Tagline: One night with a vampire hypnotherapist is an experience no woman will ever forget.

Book Description: 

Meet Dr Nick Craven – a renowned hypnotherapist who works in London’s affluent Harley Street. Tall, dark and debonair, Nick is everything a woman could want. Except for one thing – Nick Craven is a vampire with an insatiable blood lust.

When the beautiful Carly Singleton books a session with him to help her quit smoking, Nick is overwhelmed by desire and will do anything to get her into his bed.

One night with a vampire hypnotherapist is an experience no woman will ever forget.

Can Carly resist Nick’s devilish charms and will she live to tell the tale?

My Sweet Vampire is a steamy page turner that will keep you guessing right until the end.



 Excerpt:

 

Our suite is on the second floor of the hotel. As soon as we get inside, Nick switches on the lights, and I feel a flutter of apprehension. My legs are weak and it’s a struggle to put one foot in front of the other. I can’t believe I’m about to do something I’ve dreamed of constantly since the first day we met. And yet, a part of me is petrified I’ll end up disappointing him. It’s been so long, and I’m so out of practice. What if this is all a big mistake?

Folding my arms across my chest, I step into the bedroom area of our suite. It’s breathtaking, with a king-size bed, leather-panelled walls, a plasma-screen TV and a balcony with a panoramic view of the River Thames. By the window is a large cocktail cabinet, a gas fire and an ornately carved walk-in wardrobe. To my right, a glass partition slides back to reveal a spectacular bathroom with marbled walls, a huge stone bath and a gold-plated shower.

Suddenly, I start to panic; things are moving too fast.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.” I turn to go, but before I reach the door, Nick’s in front of me, barring my exit.

“Please don’t go,” he begs, slipping his finger under my chin so he can see my eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t want it to. We can just sit here and talk, or watch a movie. I don’t want this night to be over. Please, stay. Is that too much to ask?” I stare up at him and for the first time, I see a desperation that almost matches my own. “Nothing’s going to happen,” he repeats. “Scout’s honour, I promise to be on my best behaviour. I just want to spend some time with you, Carly.”

My head is screaming for me to get out of there, but his eyes hold me entranced and my body is refusing to take instruction.

At last, I let out a sigh. “All right, I’ll stay.”

Bowing my head, I allow him to lead me over to the bed, and for what seems like forever, the two of us sit side by side, looking away from each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. My arms are still folded across my chest, putting up an invisible barrier between us. The screeching silence pulsates through the room like an electric current.

I start getting heart palpitations; Nick’s giving me long, lingering looks that make my body tingle. He’s probing me deep, reading my face like my features are hieroglyphics.

Suddenly, he leans forward and whispers, “You’re so beautiful. Can I touch you?”

I catch my breath then nod slowly.

Cautiously, he reaches out and tenderly caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. Then he gently strokes my hair and the dip and hollow of my ears, his fingers warm and slightly shaky. With a shock, I realise he’s just as scared as I am, and this knowledge makes me feel a little less insecure.

Slowly, his hand travels down the side of my face, then down to my neck, and lightly caresses the sculpted base of my throat. As he works his way back up, tracing the outline of my veins, I marvel at the silky softness of his fingers.

“Shall I take off your jacket?” he breathes.

I swallow hard. “Y-yes.”

With deliberate slowness, Nick eases off my coat and drops it to the floor. Then he takes off his own and I find myself becoming aroused as he fixes me with an expression so hungry, it’s like he’s got me paralysed. Desire spreads under my skin and burns me all over as he sits back down next to me. His sweet cologne is making my head spin.

“You’re trembling,” he observes.

I drop my hands into my lap. Damn. He wasn’t supposed to see that.

“Don’t be afraid …” He reaches out again and delicately touches my lips, my nose, my eyelids. I arch my back and moan softly as his strong hands slither down to my waist and pull me closer to him.

“Can I kiss you?”

I nod mutely.

Tentatively, Nick presses his lips against my cheek and breathes in my scent. Lightly, he kisses his way from the corner of my mouth to my neck and runs his hot tongue in and out of my ear hole. The heat from his breath makes me crazy and I utter a low groan of pleasure.

Goaded by my desire, he gently but firmly tilts my face toward him. His lips brush the periphery of my cupid’s bow, teasing me into a frenzy that shoots straight to my crotch. With trembling hands, he cups my cheeks and takes my mouth in his, pulling on my lower lip with his teeth. I whimper as he kisses me hard and deep, his long, agile tongue plunging down my throat with reckless abandon, igniting an inferno of longing inside me. The force of his need leaves me breathless, his soft lips eating me out like he wants to consume every piece of me. No one has ever kissed me this way before, and the depth of his passion tips me to the brink of insanity.

For what seems forever, our tongues glide together in a flurry of unrelenting lust. Finally we pause for air, and the room is quiet except for the sound of our heavy breathing. Nick stares down at me, his body shuddering in a way that indicates he’s trying mighty hard not to act on a violent impulse.

Instinctively, I raise my fingers to my lips; they feel all puckered and bruised.

“It’s been so long,” he murmurs. “So very long …” His hand snakes around my back and starts to lower the zipper of my dress. I moan as he brings his face level with mine and whispers, “I promise I won’t go too crazy.”

About the Author:

Arabella Holmes grew up in Wandsworth, South London. From a young age she developed a great love of horror films and gothic romances. Her favourite director is Stanley Kubrick and her favourite authors include Charlotte Bronte, Sarah Waters and Mark Edwards. When she isn't writing, Arabella enjoys directing short films for the festival circuit and looking after her cat, Mambo. An avid tea drinker, Arabella can be found hanging out in cosy London cafes in search of new brews to tease her taste buds. My Sweet Vampire is her first Paranormal Romance novel. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Marked by Athena Floras


Marked
Dark Kindred Spirits  
Book One
Athena Floras

Genre: Young Adult Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: November 21st, 2020
ASIN: B08MBNHBR7
Number of pages: 108
Word Count: 19 679
Cover Artist: Nicholas Mallet

Tagline: When all hope is lost, love will find a way.

Book Description:

When there is darkness, seek the light…

Sebastian Falls has known his fair share of pain and sorrow in his life. His world is one filled with evil and danger. He’s learned to keep his emotions to himself and not let anyone get close. It’s the only way to not get hurt. But when he meets Ariel Olivier, the shy, awkward girl in his class, he wonders if he should continue to stay in the darkness. There’s something about Ariel that makes him want to let her in.

Ariel Olivier never knew when she got a tattoo on her eighteenth birthday that her whole world would change for the worse. From that moment on, her normal, mundane life turned into something sinister. An evil grows within her and it threatens to consume her and all those she cares for.

There is only one person who can help her vanquish what wants to destroy her, the alluring, mysterious Sebastian Falls. She can’t help but be drawn to him. He comes from the same evil world that is trying to kill her. Can she trust him and her growing feelings or let whatever dark power that is controlling her take over completely?

Amazon     Amazon.co.uk     Amazon.ca

Excerpt:

Ariel Olivier’s wandering mind never rested. It kept her occupied at the most inopportune times, like right now in her Humanities’ class. Mr. Brentwood’s monotone voice as he read a passage in the reference book on religion and its influence on politics was the driving force propelling her thoughts away from the subject matter.

This was her least favorite class. She probably wouldn’t have chosen it if another Humanities subject was available in the same timeslot. But there hadn’t been, so she was stuck with this boring class and Mr. Brentwood’s unemotional and slow-paced teaching methods for the rest of the semester.

The squirrel doing a balancing act on the powerline outside her window had her undivided attention at the moment. It seemed to stare at her, urging her to open the window to let it in. It was cold outside. The puissant wind blew the fur on its puffy tail, making it shiver.

If she could do it undetected, she would have let it in. She hated to see it suffer.

When the squirrel saw she wasn’t budging, it scurried farther down the powerline, searching for another opportunity to come into the building.

She sighed, glancing down at her watch. There was only a few more minutes of class left and then her school day would be over.

She couldn’t wait until she was out of the school. Throughout the entire day, she worried someone would realize it was her birthday and wish her best wishes.

She hated drawing attention to herself. She was shy and reserved. She felt the most at ease when she could sit in class or in the library and not be seen or heard. Being invisible was what she thrived for, because it meant freedom without prejudice. No one could criticize her bad posture when she sat or how her hair curled untamed. Or how she wore only monotone colored clothes and hated patterns of any kind.

She could be herself and not be judged for any quirks, odd habits, or preferences she might have.

Mr. Brentwood flipped the massive textbook closed. The echoing noise it produced sliced into the silence drawing her out of her reverie. She blinked focusing on his words.

“That’s the end of today’s lesson. I’d like you all to read the next chapter in the book and we’ll discuss it on Tuesday.”

All of a sudden, he honed his gaze onto her and he smiled. “I almost forgot one very important thing to mention before you go.”

She shifted her eyes and fidgeted in her chair. Somehow, she knew what he’d say next. She should have expected it. He always did it for all of his students.

“It’s Ariel’s birthday today. She turned eighteen. Please wish her along with me a happy birthday.”

All eyes turned to look in the direction Mr. Brentwood focused. Only a couple of the students knew immediately she was Ariel. The rest seemed to have noticed her for the first time, as if they never knew she existed before now.

She felt her cheeks burning. She wanted to crawl under her desk and hide.

* * * *

Sebastian Falls witnessed the chaos from afar. He cringed noting the scene was stressing Ariel out.

He didn’t know her personally. They’d been in the same Humanities class for the past month and had never spoken to one another. But from the frequent times he’d observed her from the back of the classroom, he could tell she was a lot like he was, an introvert who didn’t like talking in class.

Too bad Mr. Brentwood hadn’t figured that out yet. The worst thing he could have done, he did. Drawing everyone’s attention to the fact it was Ariel’s birthday was freaking her out.

Her cheeks turned beet red and she couldn’t keep eye contact with the students as they swarmed in and offered her happy birthday wishes.

He even caught her eyeing the door. She obviously was contemplating running the hell out of there. If he were in her shoes, he probably would have been thinking the same thing, except his reason was different from hers. She was shy and awkward. He just hated crowds and wanted to be left alone.

Grabbing his books, he made his way out, avoiding the traffic jam around her desk. It was getting too busy and too noisy for his liking. Peace and quiet were what he thrived for. He couldn’t get it at home, but he made damn sure to get it at school.

He walked into the hallway and leaned on a random locker waiting for the perfect time to act. He had no idea how long he’d have to wait—a minute, ten minutes, or even half an hour. But he didn’t mind. It would all be worth it in the end if everything fell into place like he planned. 

About the Author:

Athena Floras is a wife and proud mother of three who loves to read and write suspenseful and romantic stories. When she isn't busy being a mom, she spends her spare time in her den, totally immersing herself into the whimsical, fantastical world of fiction. She hopes the stories and characters she creates will bring readers as much pleasure and entertainment as they have her.

Website/Blog: https://athenafloras.blogspot.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Athena-Floras/e/B018N7U26S

Twitter: https://twitter.com/FlorasAthena

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Friday, December 18, 2020

Crow's Curse Series by Laura Bickle





Csodaszarvas
By Laura Bickle

The white stag
Hunted through years and centuries
Evades its pursuers, kings and huntsmen alike.
He has a more important mission.
He hunts too, you see
For the sun in winter.

He follows the sun south, 
Moving through forests blanketed by snow
Past trees stripped of leaves.
He searches out that cold orb in the sky,
Chasing it
Until it kisses the horizon on the solstice.

There
Then
He captures it in his mighty antlers. 
And carries that glowing source of light and life
Past the darkness and snows
Into the new year
Into the warmth and possibilities of the future.

Morrigan’s Blood
Crow’s Curse 
Book One
Laura Bickle

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark Fantasy
Publisher: Syrenka Publishing LLC
Date of Publication: Sept. 25, 2020
ASIN: B08B9TJ4V9
Number of pages: 188
Word Count: 57000

Cover Artist: Danielle Fine

Tagline: Garnet has the blood of the legendary Morrigan – and legions of vampires and witches will go to war to possess that power.

Book Description: 

Garnet has the blood of the legendary Morrigan – and legions of vampires and witches will go to war to possess that power.

As a trauma surgeon, Garnet Conners has seen more than her fair share of blood. But when one of her patients walks off the operating table and disappears into the night, she finds herself caught in a war between legions of vampires and witches in her city.

Garnet has dreamed of bloody battlefields for years – and a mysterious lover who controls a kingdom. In her waking life, Garnet is shocked to meet that man in a club. Merrel knows her from another life, a life in which she was the legendary Morrigan, goddess of death and war.

Garnet rejects the notion of magical incarnations altogether. But she falls in with Sorin, a handsome warlock who’s determined to protect the former bootlegger city of Riverpointe from a secret society of vampires. Haunted by crows and faced with undeniable proof of magic, Garnet scrambles to protect her career and loved ones from magical violence.

Abducted by vampires who seek to turn her into a vampire against her will, can Garnet seize the power of the legendary Morrigan to forge her own path in her embattled city? Or will she be forced to serve as a fearsome weapon in a deadly nocturnal war?



Excerpt Book One:

          “What have you got for me tonight, folks?” I asked.

            I backed through the doors of the operating theater, butt-first, gloved hands lifted before me to keep them clean. I took small steps, mindful not to lose traction. Those thin booties were slick, and I’d fallen on my ass on more than one occasion when I made sudden moves. Tonight, I was determined to get through surgery in an upright position and not have to scrub in twice.

            One of the nurses read from notes on a computer terminal. “This guy was found in the parking lot of a closed bowling alley. Speculation is that he took a trip or two through the pin setting machine and got badly torn up.”

            “Well, that’s a first.” I turned toward the operating room table. The light was so bright that hardly any shadows were cast in the room. They focused on the unholy mess on the middle of my table.

            This. I’m supposed to fix this.

            A man lay, unconscious, on the table. His chest was torn open, flaps of skin oozing onto wads of gauze and a paper sheet. His face was a mass of blood, now being daubed at with sponges. The anesthesiologist had found his mouth to thread a tube down, and someone had managed to get an IV started in one of his scraped-up arms.

            My nose wrinkled under my mask. “What do the X-rays show? How deep does the damage go? Did he get a CT?”

            A nurse clicked on a flatscreen monitor that displayed a carousel of CT images. I  squinted at them, muttering dark oaths.

            “Radiologist says it looks like a lacerated pancreas, punctured lung, and two rib fractures,” the nurse said. The image switched to the head, and he said: “Also the bonus of a fractured orbital bone.”

            I stared at the CTs. “Let’s start with that lung. We leave the pancreas, and call plastic surgery on that orbital bone. This guy’s going to need all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put him back together again.”

            “Will do.”

            I gazed down at the poor suffering bastard. I liked seeing the imaging, but I preferred to get a good visual with my own eyes on my patients. Sometimes X-rays and CTs didn’t tell me everything I needed to know about what to start sewing where. Something about seeing where the blood moved and pooled in an injured person gave me an idea of where to begin. The blood always led me to where I needed to direct my attention. Where it spurted required my immediate expertise. Where it clotted or moved lazily, I could wait a bit. When blood drained out of a limb and had left it white, I needed to add more. I noted with approval that he was already receiving a transfusion. As long as blood was moving, there was a chance for him

            I frowned at his chest and touched the edges of the rends in his flesh with gloved fingers. Those were ragged and would have to be cut clean before I sewed him back up. I could see the edge of one of those protruding ribs, sticking up like a finger. I glanced over his limbs, counting the usual four. Hey, it pays to count. Count twice, cut once. I mentally cataloged bruises and scrapes, nothing that needed my immediate attention, though I flagged the palms of his hands to get a few stitches from the surgical resident. Looked like defensive wounds, like the guy had tried to fight the pin machine, but lost.

            My eyes moved up to his face. One blackened eye was swollen shut. My fingers and gaze wandered over his scalp, checking for major wounds, when I spied a laceration at his throat.

            I gently probed it with gloved hands. Some kind of puncture…the machine must have caught him near a seeping vein. It had nearly dried up, smelling rusty and not like the bright, coppery blood of his more critical wounds. It could still take a few extra stitches.

            I stared down at the unfortunate guy’s oozing chest. Peeling back a flap of skin, I felt around for the collapsed lung. My finger quickly squished around and found the hole, and I extended my free hand for a scalpel. Time to get this party started…

            …when the patient sat bolt upright on the table. His good eye was open, rolling.

            I yanked my hands back and yelped at the anesthesiologist, “Curt, what the actual hell?”

            The OR erupted in a flurry of activity. The anesthesiologist arrived at the patient’s side with a syringe, while nurses tried to push the patient back down.

            But he was flailing, windmilling with his arms like a pro wrestler in the ring. The IV ripped out of his arm, and the line slashed back at the anesthesiologist, whipping across his face. The patient reached up and ripped the tube out of his throat. His foot caught an instrument tray, sending scalpels flying. His blood line yanked away, spewing crimson all over the floor.

            I held my hands out, using my most calming voice. Not that I had a particularly calming voice; I was a surgeon. We don’t talk to patients. But I tried: “You’re safe. I’m your doctor, Dr. Conners. If you just lie back, we’ll make you comfortable and—”

            The guy shrieked and launched himself off the table. The paper sheet tangled around his legs, and he grasped it around his waist as he put his shoulder down and aimed for the door. His shoulder hit me in the arm, and I slipped on my booties, landing on my ass on the tile floor. The patient launched through the swinging doors and disappeared down the hall.

            I swore and ripped my booties off my sneakered feet. I clambered to my feet and punched the intercom at the door with my elbow. “Security, code orange at OR 6.” I couldn’t say: I’ve got a runner taking off down the hall. Please send somebody to stop him, because anyone listening to that would freak the hell out, and I would get a talking-to from HR.

            I straight-armed the door and took off after the guy. I had no idea how the hell this man was still walking around. Those injuries should have flattened him, and he’d been anesthetized. I had graduated med school with Curt a few years ago, and knew him not to be a careless anesthesiologist who played on his phone in the OR.

            The patient skidded down the hallway, landing at a dead end, where a window overlooked the parking lot. The sun had just set, and the sky was the violet color of a fresh bruise. I approached him slowly, like I was herding a feral cat. I tugged my mask down to try and give him a human face to look at.

            “Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I murmured soothingly. I wanted to keep him here until security arrived. If he got even further loose and hurt himself, that would be one obnoxiously long incident report. And an even more involved surgery after that.

            “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not gonna be okay. The bloodsuckers found me…and the Lusine couldn’t protect me.”

            “I don’t know who that is,” I said, thinking that the guy had probably run afoul of some loan sharks. Maybe the mob? “But you’re safe here. We can protect you.”

            “No,” he gasped, his face twisted in agony. “No one can protect me. And no one can protect Emily.”

            He turned toward the window, backed up a few steps.

            “No, wait…” I could see what he was trying to do, and I was helpless to stop it.

            He rushed the window, aiming for it with his shoulder. All the latches on the hospital windows on patient floors were welded shut, but this wasn’t an area where conscious patients had access, and the window was not secured against suicide attempts. The glass buckled under his shoulder, the window crumpled away, and he pitched through in a hail of glass into the falling darkness.

            I rushed to the window and stared down at the parking lot in horror. Three stories down, the patient sprawled on the parking lot blacktop, flattened like a bug under a shoe.

            Curt had come up behind me. “Oh, my god, Garnet…did he…”

            “He jumped,” I said, my heart in my mouth. I turned and ran to the stairwell, barking at him. “Get a gurney and the ER team.”

            I burst into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. As I rounded the third curve, my path was blocked by a tall, dark-haired man in a brown velvet blazer and jeans. He was the type of guy that I might have liked to meet in my off-time—he had a kind of scholarly intensity in his hazel gaze and a bit of roguishness in the stubble that covered his sharp jaw.

            “Stand aside,” I blurted. “Emergency!” As if my bloody gloves and surgical gown weren’t warning enough.

            But he blocked my path, one hand on either stair rail, his long arms spanning the length of the stairwell. “That man is dangerous,” he growled softly.

            “That man is under my care,” I announced, lifting my chin. I walked into the man, figuring that he would give way to my outstretched bloody gloves. Like a normal person would.

.           But he didn’t. My sticky gloves nearly mashed into the velvet of his jacket, and he didn’t flinch. This close, he smelled like old books and moss.

            “You can’t go down there,” he said. His voice was soft, but insistent. 

            My eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to tell me where to go,” I chirped petulantly. I ducked under his arm, darting out of his reach, and barreled down the steps the remaining way to ground level.

            I rushed out into the parking lot and stopped short.

            “What the actual hell—”

            The patient peeled himself off the ground and crawled to his feet. He reminded me of a half-dead insect when he did so, shaking and rickety and dripping blood.

            That’s impossible, I thought. There was no way that a human being could do that. I took two steps toward him…

            …and a dozen people flitted out of the darkness, from the shadows beneath cars and behind shrubs. The overhead parking lot lights, haloed by moths, illuminated their long shadows on the pavement.

            I breathed a sigh of relief. The squad was here and would get him stable, get him back to my OR.

            But…my brow wrinkled. That wasn’t the squad. Nobody was in uniform. They converged on him as he turned, screaming.

            “Stop!” I shouted.

            Heads turned toward me. Their faces were moon-pale and glistening in the lamplight.

            The man in the velvet jacket grabbed my arm, dragging me back. “You want no part of this.”

            “Don’t tell me what I want,” I growled. I stomped on his instep and twisted my arm to break his grip at the weakest part, the thumb. I whirled and ran toward the fracas.

            The shadowy people had plucked my patient off the pavement, clotting around him.

            I yelled at them, the way I might yell at pigeons in the park who were eating my dropped French fries.

            Overhead, the parking lot lights shattered, one by one, in a series of pops. Someone had a gun. I flinched back, shielding my face from flying shards of plastic with my hands, as I was suddenly plunged into darkness. I heard fighting, yelling, as if a gang war had broken out in front of me, roiling in the dark where no one could see.

            Or at least, as dark as things could get in Riverpointe. Riverpointe was a decently sized city, and ambient light filtered back quickly from the freeway, headlights on the access road to the hospital, and the hospital’s helipad above.

            As my vision adjusted, I realized I was alone. The people who were trying to abduct my patient, my patient…even that fascinating-smelling velvet guy…all were gone. 

            Ambulance lights flashed at the end of the parking lot, approaching me. Behind me, I heard the hammering of footsteps on the stairwell. Security spilled out behind me, along with a few cops who’d been hanging out in the nurse’s lounge. The EMTs pulled up to the curb, and there were all of a sudden a couple dozen people churning in a uniformed cloud around me.

            “Where’d the guy go?” a security guard asked me.

            A moth that had once orbited the parking lot lights flitted down and smacked my face. I batted at it, grimacing.

            “I don’t know,” I whispered, stunned. “He was just…taken.”

            The moth landed on the ground on its back, wiggling.

            With bloody fingers, I picked it up and placed it gently in a nearby shrub. Lights, voices, and radios crackled around me. Questions rose and fell, directed at me in a tide of inquiries I couldn’t answer. But I stared at the bloody moth, stained by my touch, as it sought a safe place among the churning shadows and light.

 



Morrigan's Bite 
Crow's Curse 
Book 2
Laura Bickle  

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark Fantasy
Publication Date: October 23, 2020
Publisher: Syrenka Publishing 
ASIN: B08B9GVMZM

Book Description:

Becoming a vampire was the worst thing to ever happen to Garnet Conners. But does she have to become a monster, too?

Garnet had a beautiful life…and it was stolen from her when she was turned into a vampire against her will. Once a successful trauma surgeon with good friends, she now finds herself hiding out in the basement of a coven house governed by hostile witches. Struggling with her vampiric urges, she despairs of ever returning to her former life.

Garnet’s discovered that she’s an incarnation of the legendary Morrigan. She dreams in blood, of the Morrigan’s other bloodthirsty incarnations over the centuries. Garnet’s dreams reveal her previous existence as Erzebet Bathory, and Garnet fears becoming that monster once again.

With the help of the witches, she attempts to learn to use her magical powers to control her vampiric nature…an experiment that ends in disaster. When her sister and friend go missing, Garnet knows she’s being hunted by vampires who will stop at nothing to bring her back into their fold.

Merrel, the vampire who turned her, offers her a bargain. He will return the abducted women, but Garnet must agree to spend three nights with him, training as a vampire. Garnet reluctantly accepts, but she fears giving in to her vampire nature and becoming the killer of the previous lifetime she’s reliving in her dreams.



Morrigan's Bond 
Crow's Curse 
Book 3
Laura Bickle  

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Dark Fantasy
Publication Date: November 19, 2020
Publisher: Syrenka Publishing LLC 
ASIN: B08B9KRLKZ

Book Description:

To end the war between vampires and witches, Garnet must battle the queen of the vampires, a woman who the Morrigan narrowly escaped in the skies of World War II.

Garnet Conners, incarnation of the legendary Morrigan, has pieced her life back together. After being turned into a vampire against her will, she’s quit her career as a surgeon and taken a job on the night shift at the city morgue. To her dismay, victims of vampires are piling up at the morgue…including the body of the vampire who turned her, Merrel.

Merrel’s faked his own death to set into motion a plot to wrest control of Riverpointe’s vampires from their queen, Varya. If Garnet helps him, he promises to move the vampires away from Riverpointe entirely, leaving Garnet and her lover, the warlock Sorin, in peace.

But Garnet’s haunted by dreams of her prior incarnations as Alix, one of the pilots of the fabled Night Witches in World War II. Alix fought Varya during the war… and was nearly destroyed by her. Varya held a magical artifact hostage, the magical sword Durendal, which she still uses to control the Asra hive of vampires.

When the vampires burn down the witches’ coven house, Garnet and her allies must locate the vampires’ stronghold. She, Merrel, and the surviving witches must rip Durendal away from Varya…or the city and all its supernatural inhabitants will be devoured in flames.




About the Author:

Laura Bickle grew up in rural Ohio, reading entirely too many comic books out loud to her favorite Wonder Woman doll. She now dreams up stories about the monsters under the stairs and sometimes reads them to her cats. Her books have earned starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Kirkus. Laura’s work has also been included in the ALA’s Amelia Bloomer Project 2013 reading list and the State Library of Ohio’s Choose to Read Ohio reading list for 2015-2016. The latest updates on her work can be found at authorlaurabickle.com.











a Rafflecopter giveaway

Daemon War by S. K. Gregory


Daemon War
Daemon Persuasion Series 
Book Four
S. K. Gregory 

Genre: Urban Fantasy 
Publisher: SK Gregory
Date of Publication: 18/12/2020
ASIN: B088F68JJ1
Word Count: 46k approx
Cover Artist: SKGregory

Tagline: They survived the battle, can they win the war?

Book Description: 

From USA Today Bestselling Author S.K. Gregory the Final Book of the Daemon Persuasion Series

The battle is over, but can they win the war?

The battle changed everything. Mackenzie finds herself with new responsibilities and a war heading her way. Her relationship with Taryn is tested as the bodies begin to fall.

An end to the war...

As they try to beat back the enemy, a prophecy might hold the key to end the war for good. It will take all of her power to keep the ones she loves safe. Time to kick some ass.

An urban fantasy novel

Amazon

Excerpt:

“Why won’t you ever listen!” Taryn screamed. He turned away from Mackenzie, his shoulders set with rage.

Before she knew what she was doing, Mackenzie picked up a heavy plant pot from a nearby table and brought it down on the back of Taryn’s head. His body crumpled to the floor.

Dropping the remains of the plant pot, she stood over him, waiting for him to get up and start screaming at her again. When she saw the blood pool out onto the carpet, that’s when she knew how serious it was.

“Taryn?” She dropped to the floor beside him, reaching out to check for a pulse. Nothing.

“No, this isn’t happening,” she whispered. She turned him over, stifling a scream when she saw his eyes open and staring back at her. “Taryn.”

She shook him, willing him to respond, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Oh God, I killed him.

This couldn’t be happening, she didn’t mean to get so mad, she just lost control for a moment.

Sobbing, she rested her head on his chest. Her whole life was over now. Taryn was gone, their life together, their home, their future. She would go to prison for sure and then...She sobbed harder.

“Mackenzie?”

She turned to find Annie standing at the top of the stairs. How did she get in?

“What’s happened? Is he okay?” Annie asked, taking a step toward her.

“No. He’s dead.”

Annie kneeled down beside her, placing a comforting hand on her back. “Oh my poor girl.”

“I need to call the police,” Mackenzie said, wiping her face.

“There’ll be time for that. You need to focus on what is important.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I need you to tell me who you are,” Annie said.

Mackenzie stared at her. “What?”

“You heard me. Tell me who you are.”

Mackenzie shook her head in confusion. “You know who I am, Annie. Are you okay?”

Maybe Annie had hit her head or something.

“I know your name, but I need to know who you are and why you are here.”

Mackenzie got to her feet, eager to put some space between herself and Annie. Annie’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist.

“Answer the question!” she barked.

“Get off me,” Mackenzie said. She pried Annie’s fingers off her wrist and hurried downstairs. She would call the police and maybe a doctor for Annie.

Before she could reach the phone, Annie caught up to her. “You can’t escape me. Answer the damn question.”

Mackenzie whirled to face her. “Enough. I don’t understand your damn question. You know me. My name is Mackenzie. I’m here because I bought a damn house.”

Annie’s face twisted into a snarl. “Not good enough.”

There was a flash and for a moment, the entire room changed. The furniture vanished and she was sitting in a chair with a strange man standing over her. She blinked and she was back in the room.

This isn’t real.

Annie advanced on her.

 

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling Author S. K. Gregory writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance and horror novels. She currently resides in Northern Ireland where she works as an editor.

In her spare time, she helps indie authors by promoting them through her website and on social media.








a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Demon’s Witch by Tena Stetler ~ Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza




Fantastic Molasses/Ginger Cookies

Ingredients:

1 ½ cup brown sugar  ¾ shortening/butter (1/2 cup butter or ¼ cup shorting)
1 large egg
¾ cup molasses
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups sifted all purpose flour  - for high altitude above 4,000 ft., add ¼ cup flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon cloves (I don’t care for cloves so I replace with pumpkin pie spice)
2 tablespoons ginger
¼ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking soda
Decorating sugar mixed with white sugar for decorating 

Directions:

Cream sugar and butter. Add eff and beat until fluffy.  Add molasses and extract, mix well.  Combine dry ingredients and add slowly to creamed mixture.  It will be a thick dough.  Chill at least 30 minutes.  I chill mine for at least an hour.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
Form dough into one-inch balls and roll in the sugar.  Place the balls on a greased baking sheet. Bake for 10-13 minutes, depending on the size of your balls and your oven.  Cool tray on cooling rack for 10 minutes before placing in a container.   
You can also roll the dough out and use cookie cutters.


A Demon’s Witch
Book One
Tena Stetler

Genre:  Paranormal Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Date of Publication:  9-25-2015
ISBN: 978-1-5092-0309-3
ASIN:  B014BVSZIC
Number of pages:  314
Word Count: 82,115
Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Tagline:  Undeniable attraction and dark secrets between demon and witch promises to tear apart their professional and personal worlds.

Book Description:  

Keeping a lid on all the paranormal beings inhabiting Washington D.C., is a daunting job. Bruce, a six hundred year old demon and the Territory Overlord of the Western Hemisphere, keeps his finger on the pulse of DC’s power players through the activities at his highly successful Wycked Hair Salon. His movie star good looks and body builder physique keeps his dance card full and the rumor mills running.  Within these walls, his anonymity is safe, mostly. 

Bruce’s world spins out of control when Angelique, a pint size, gorgeous witch, with an attitude breezes through the doors of his salon. She is the younger sister of Tristian, Bruce’s long time trusted enforcer, whose professional skills are second to none. Tristian is furious at the relationship between Bruce and Angelique, a dangerous situation, but something darker awaits them all. Yet undeniable attraction between demon and witch promises to tear apart both their professional and personal worlds.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/9e5djB0mwVE

Amazon     Amazon UK        Amazon AU     Amazon CA 

Kobo      BN       iTunes       Wild Rose Press

Wal-mart     Google Play      Goodreads     BookBub




Excerpt

A feeling of dark foreboding, like storm clouds forming on the horizon before a violent storm, washed over Bruce as he maneuvered the SUV into the parking lot behind The Krystal Unicorn.

Tristian was already there and it wasn’t to give his report. Bruce could feel the fury in Tristian’s magic signature hanging in the air. A silver tipped arrow penetrated the windshield, split the arm securing the rearview mirror, and stuck in the headrest a quarter inch from Bruce’s neck. Blue liquid oozed from the tip and a stream of red mist escaped from the other end of the arrow. 

“Hold your breath and don’t open the door or windows. The influx of fresh air will spread the poison.” He hissed though his teeth not daring to take a breath.

Air pressure inside the vehicle changed, Angie’s head felt like it was going to explode. “Bruce.” She whispered into his mind, a benefit of being mated.

 “I know, just a few seconds more, I’ve got it handled.” His deep smooth voice floated reassuringly in her mind, as he reached over caressing her shoulder.

The pressure eased and the red mist sucked in on itself disappearing along with the oozing liquid. He pulled the arrow from the headrest, fingering the hole in the upholstery.

Through gritted teeth, Bruce growled. “His first mistake was that he missed me. His second deadly mistake was he risked your life. That is unforgivable.” Those two things also told Bruce that Tristian wasn’t thinking clearly, fury was coloring his judgment. That gave Bruce an edge, though the attack caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected Tristian’s attack to put his sister at risk.

The console between them lowered to seat level. He hoped to add  fuel to the fury burning inside Tristian. Bruce put his arm around Angie’s waist and pulled her against him, his lips pressed against hers then gently covered her mouth as his tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips. He drew back, touched his lips to hers again trailing them down to the pulsing hollow of her neck and whispered, “You’re going into the shop now, Willow is waiting just on the other side of the door. Please stay there, you’ll be able to remain in my mind just don’t interfere. I need your presence there as a calming one. Willow can help you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, there wasn’t time to explain how everything works and I’m not exactly sure myself. Only that I can feel you in my mind and I assume you can feel me in yours.”

“Yes, it’s a weird sensation,” Angie said a tremor in her voice. 

 “We’ll learn together to use it to our benefit, now is as good a time as any to practice.”

She snorted, “Sure, our lives are on the line. No big deal.” She threw up her hands.

About the Author: 

Tena Stetler is a best-selling author of award winning paranormal romance with an over-active imagination.  She wrote her first vampire romance as a tween, to the chagrin of her mother and the delight of her friends. Colorado is home; shared with her husband, a brilliant Chow Chow, a spoiled parrot and a forty-five-year-old box turtle. When she’s not writing, her time is spent kayaking, camping, hiking, biking or just relaxing in the great Colorado outdoors. 

 Her books tell tales of magical kick-ass women and mystical alpha males that dare to love them. Travel, adventure and a bit of mystery flourish in her books along with a few companion animals to round out the tales



















a Rafflecopter giveaway