Friday, July 21, 2017

Lost Faith by April Zyon

About Lost Faith: 


Gabriella Moreno was just a job, in and out to gain the objective, the death of her father. She turned out to be far more than that to Tobias Casey, however, from the moment he laid his hands on her too hot for words body.

Gabriella had just come home from a two-year stint abroad. The first night home she snuck out, never dreaming for even a moment anyone would be stupid enough to take her. Boy, was she wrong.

Faced with brutal truths, Gabbie followed her gut, and her heart, which, it seemed, all led to one place, Tobias. The heat of her homeland was nothing compared to the touch of this man. In his arms, she found something she had craved all her life, the other half of her soul.

Yet, how can she ignore the fact that the man who owns her heart is also the man who wants to take the last of her family?

Find it here: 

Kindle Unlimited for FREE! 

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Teaser


Another day, another dollar. Only these days, Tobias and his team were getting paid a hell of a lot more than they had been in the military. Now they could set their own fees for doing the jobs that no one else wanted to do, or maybe couldn’t do, since they did on rare occasion work for their government’s shadier sectors. But there was no oversight, no backseat driving, and they paid big to get shit done.
Their current operation was one they’d been working on for nearly three weeks now with no success. The first week had been recon, getting oriented, and making sure they had their exits memorized for when they achieved their strike.
The only thing was, as they’d discovered during week two, the target they were after didn’t ever leave his super secure compound. Not that Tobias could blame the guy. Their target was a dictator, an arms dealer, a drug dealer, and a mass murderer. There were people worldwide hoping that Tobias’ team finally managed to do what no one else had to date.
Now it was week three and they were still watching the compound to figure out their way in. Or as Tobias was beginning to believe would be easier, how to get the asshole to come out. They’d tried forty different ways to infiltrate the compound. None had worked. Which actually made sense, given the target, Juan Moreno, or Senor X as they referred to him over com, had hired himself an ex-Special Forces soldier to be the head of his security. Tran Quan was American born but had ties to the Yakuza. Extra weight to be brought to bear should it be requested.
Taking a small drink from his canteen, Tobias ignored the sweat trickling down his spine. His attention was locked on a small group of vehicles approaching the compound. Binoculars up, he brought the lead car into focus and easily recognized one of Moreno’s drivers.  His attention moving to the second car, he was surprised to see Quan in the front passenger seat. The man was normally glued to Moreno’s side so to see him out without Moreno… this was big.
“Ripper, we have four cars approaching the compound. I need to know who exits the second car once they stop inside. Get pictures.”
“Roger that, Rogue.”
Ripper and Cherry were up on the mountain using some seriously high-powered tools to stare down into the compound. Their position was treacherous since they were, literally, dangling off the face of that mountain. One wrong move and they’d be headed straight down toward death.
“They’re turning toward the gate now. Not stopping either, they’ve been waved right through,” Tobias reported. The gates slid shut but not before he spotted a slender leg wearing a dainty shoe at the end slipping out of the door being opened by a guard. Instantly, he felt his gut clench in need to see the body went with that limb.
A soft whistle came through the com. “Damn, she’s fucking hot. Think she’s banging senor X?” Herc asked.
“Too young for him, you oaf,” Cherry said.
“Like that would stop the old fucker. We all know he doesn’t care about age. One of the reasons why we’re here to see him shot,” Herc told her. “Personally, it’s my only reason to see his head explode under the impact of my bullet.”
“Cut the chatter. Tell me you have photos for everyone that came in those vehicles.”
“Confirmed,” Ripper said.
“Good, get your asses down from there. Scout will be here to relieve me soon, then we need to get back and review everything.” Tobias was hopeful that somewhere in those photos he might find a way to pull Moreno away from his security blanket.

* * * *

“It’s his daughter, Gabriella Moreno.” Rainer said. His words had everyone’s attention. Tobias couldn’t figure out who was more shocked. Turning in his seat Rainer shook his head. “I had to dig, and dig deep. The old man has her buried.”
“Makes sense,” Winston muttered. “She’s his Achilles.”
He was right. “We need to keep eyes on her. If we get the opportunity, she’ll be the one we grab. I have a feeling that even with all his enemies gunning for him, he’ll do anything to protect her.” All they had to do was get their hands on her and use her to bait Senor X.
Picking up the picture Rainer had printed out Tobias stared at it. It wasn’t a shot from the compound but one he’d pulled from social media. Gabriella had her head tipped back, laughing at something or someone. She looked carefree and totally at ease. Young, too.
The young woman was just over five foot three inches but those come fuck me heels made her closer to five feet seven, she was thin but not waiflike like so many of the women today. Her hair however, was a riot of auburn red curls that seemed to have a mind of their own, and she didn’t bother trying to tame them. Which said something about the woman herself. She might not have the largest breasts that he had seen in his life but hers seemed to work her body perfectly, like a perfect handful, that distracted him completely.
“We need everything on her from birth until the moment she went through those gates, Rainer. Leave no stone unturned. I think we’ve just found our hot button for daddy Moreno. We grab her and he’ll deliver himself right to us.”
“You sure you want to do that, boss?” Cherilyn asked. At his sharp look, she held up her hands. “I’m down with it, but even if she does leave the compound, you know she’ll have a taskforce worth of guards with her. No way is Moreno letting her out in this country without protection up the ass.”
“And we’ll be ready for that. Our best shot will be if she goes into the city. It’ll allow us to blend in and when the time’s right, grab her up.” At Cherilyn’s snort, Tobias turned a glare on her. “What?”
“Dude, no offense or nothing, but you do not blend.”
Rainer was shaking his head. “I have to agree with her, boss. You tend to stick out.”
“I can blend just fine, I’ll have you know.”
“You keep thinking that. In the meantime, I think I’ll update the other boys and we can add their hilarity to the vote count against you.” Cherilyn patted his chest, walked past, and promptly burst out in laughter.
“I can and will fire your ass,” Tobias called after her.
“No, you won’t,” she bellowed back. 
No, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it, in great detail.



Thursday, July 20, 2017

Winning the Campaign Manager by Lucy Felthouse

Blurb:

Politics has never been so sexy!

Cade Avery is running for a position on his local county council. He’s extremely good at what he does and is a valuable asset to his community. The trouble is, he upsets people, says the wrong things, and rides rough-shod over other people’s plans and ideas. His assistant, Mary, eager to improve Cade’s public image, hires him a campaign manager.

Quentin Rayworth is thrilled to be working with such a formidable public figure. It’ll be a challenge, but he’s confident he can help Cade to win the election, and knows that the achievement will look impressive on his CV.

It’s soon clear that the two men are set to be an excellent team. That is, until Cade’s werewolf makes its intentions known—in Quentin, it has found its mate, and it will not rest until he has claimed him. But can Cade—and his wolf—win over the campaign manager?

Buy links (other retailers coming soon):
Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/WTCM

*****



Excerpt:

“You’ve done what?” Cade Avery yelled, fixing his long-time friend and colleague, Mary Summers, with a glare. He slammed his hands down on his desk, making a bunch of pens jump and rattle, and causing water to splash over the side of his glass. “Why the hell would you do such a thing?”

Mary, by now used to Cade’s temper and frequent outbursts, didn’t flinch. Standing firm on the other side of his desk, she calmly stated, “You heard me, Cade. I’ve appointed you a campaign manager. And as for the why, I think it’s pretty damn obvious.”

“Not to me,” he grumbled, snatching a handful of tissues from the box in his top drawer and swiping irritably at the liquid he’d spilled. “Seems like an unnecessary expense.”

With a heavy sigh, Mary replied, “Do you want to win this bloody election or not?”

“Yes, of course I do. What sort of a stupid question is that?”

“Well then, you need a campaign manager. The rest of the team and I already have enough on our plates. We can’t handle that side of things, too. Not to mention the fact that you really need someone with … expertise … in that department. Someone who can boost your public image, make you more likeable … you know, so people will actually vote for you.”

Screwing up the wad of soggy tissue and dumping it in the wastebasket beside him, Cade snapped his gaze to Mary. She stood, the ever-present iPad clutched against her chest, looking as determined and immovable as a five-feet-one, slim thirty-five-year-old was ever going to get.

He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “What’s wrong with my public image?”

Rolling her eyes heavenward, her body tensing, Mary’s cool demeanor actually looked on the verge of cracking. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she looked back at him. “Give me strength, Cade. Are you fucking serious?”

She may have used the deep breath and probably a considerable amount of willpower to dampen down her physical reaction to his question, but her actual words gave her true state of mind away. As a rule, the word “bloody” was as bad as it got for Mary. To have enticed a “fucking” out of her, and within the same conversation, no less, meant she was in real danger of losing her temper with him. And despite her diminutive frame and usually chilled-out personality—especially in comparison with his huge frame and fiery personality—when she did lose it, she was utterly terrifying. Possibly the fact that she rarely got angry was what made it so potent when she did. Mary’s ire could turn even the thickest-skinned person into a blubbering wreck.

“Mary,” he cooed, backtracking quickly, “come on, sit down. Why do you always insist on standing up in here?”

“Because, unless we’re having a meeting, I don’t generally need to stay long. I normally impart my information, you give your feedback, and we get on with our day.” She shifted restlessly and narrowed her eyes. “But today, it seems, you’re having a bit of a brain fart. Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Raising his eyebrows at her increasing irritation, and wondering if there was something going on in her private life that was making her so touchy, he nodded. “Yes, I really think you do.”

A few seconds of silence passed, in which Mary again seemed to be getting a grip on her irritation. She finally said, “All right. But don’t forget; you asked for it.”



*****

Author Bio:


Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller), The Persecution of the Wolves and Hiding in Plain Sight. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Mid Week Tease - Breathe, Winter


Hi, everyone. Welcome to Mid Week Tease, where my author friends and I share a little something with you, our readers, from some of our past work, up and coming releases, and WIPs (Works in Progress). Thanks going out to Angelica Dawson for organizing our weekly teasing fun! 


This week, my teaser comes from the first book in my Two Hearts, One Soul Duet, Always.




When Austin’s lips went to my throat, another warm sensation shot through me. He pressed his mouth into the niche, tongued over my collarbone to my shoulder—lingering for a moment before he slid his mouth to my chest, my breasts, my stomach...
“Oh, God,” I moaned.
It was as though my body was his canvas, and his lips and hands were painting a masterpiece.
“You are perfect,” he said.
My hands, needing him, grasped his dark black hair—fingers tangling tight within it.
He kissed me then, lips anxious, with a consuming fire.
I opened to him without hesitation and he took my offering with hungry thrusts of his tongue over mine.
Our breathing increased with each new touch. With each probing kiss, my heart thumped.
I hitched my leg around Austin’s hip. He was hard with need and grabbed at my leg while wrapping his other arm around my waist, picking me up from the floor and placing me on the bed.
“I want you so goddamn bad,” he said, warm hands flowing down the length of my thighs, and his mouth following. Kissing.
“Take me. Make me yours, completely.”
Austin reached for my shorts and unzipped them. With a lift of my hips, he pulled them off and threw them onto the floor.
I closed my eyes and felt him place a kiss to my navel. “Oooh…”
My stomach jerked. The feeling he created within me was caught somewhere between a tickle and searing pleasure.
He hooked his finger into the side string of my panties while his mouth lingered on my hip. With one last kiss, he pulled my panties. They cleared my feet.
He had removed the last of my clothing.
I forced my eyes open.
Austin appraised every part of my body like I was a goddess or a gift. The way he looked at me seized my breath.
“Jesus, baby. I have never seen such beauty,” he whispered. “There are no words, Winter. No words to tell you how much I love you, desire you, how utterly beautiful you are.”
Breathe, Winter I had to remind myself, fevered with the need to touch him. Really touch him.



ARCs for Forever & Always (Two Hearts, One Soul Duet: Book Two) will be going out real soon. In the meantime, you can read Always for free in Kindle Unlimited. 

Pick up your copy here:








 

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Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Spanked Into Submission by Ravenna Tate


SPANKED INTO SUBMISSION
The Spanking Experiments 2


***Click 
HERE to purchase
directly from Evernight Publishing***

BLURB

Macie Brooks has entertained fantasies of being spanked all her adult life. But until she decided to answer an ad on a BDSM site, seeking participants for a survey on impact play, she had given up hope of fulfilling those fantasies in real life. Intimate relationships haven’t worked out for Macie. She’s been told she’s a freak because of her secret needs. And, because of her poor body image, she doesn’t believe herself desirable.

Dakar Garcia, the Dom at Sensations who introduces her to impact play during one erotic night at the club, is everything she’s ever dreamed of. Handsome, charming, and in control. Dakar has been searching for the woman of his dreams, but without much luck. Is it possible he’s found the perfect submissive, and the perfect lover, in Macie?

EXCERPT

“Do you know what this is?”

“A spanking glove, Sir?”

“Yes. It’ll protect my hand from getting sore, but will still give your luscious round ass a nice burn.” After he moves the toys on his left to his right, he spreads his legs apart slightly and pats his left thigh. “Drape your lower torso over my thigh, facing me at an angle.”

I don’t quite picture what he means until I lie over his thigh and he moves me further to the left a bit, so that I’m almost lying next to him. His right leg pins both of mine across the backs, and he drapes his left forearm across my middle back. I’m trapped against his hard, muscled body. My pussy is soaked now, and tiny contractions flutter the walls once again. Underneath my lower abdomen, his muscled thigh presses against me.

“Are you comfortable?” That voice! It washes over me, deep and sexy, until I would do anything to hear it.

“Very, Sir.” Speaking is difficult.

“This will hurt, Macie.”

The first swats are delivered on one side, then the other, in rapid-fire succession. I yell and try to get away, but he has me held too tightly. Now I understand why he put on the glove. By the third swat on each cheek, tears stream down my face and I expect to smell the smoke from the fire on my ass.

At the same time, it’s so damn arousing that I’m having a tiny orgasm. I never would have believed such a thing was possible, except that each swat pushes my clit into his thigh. When he reaches six on each side, my yells have turned to moans, and the contractions inside my pussy are still going.

The combination of pain and pleasure is like a drug. I want more. If this happens from a simple spanking, what will those floggers and paddles do to me? My mind fills with erotic images as he delivers the last three smacks on each side. I picture him fucking me, his cock in every hole, and my ass raw from those toys he chose.

When it’s over, I simply lie there, letting my imagination run wild. Maybe if I don’t move, he’ll keep going?

“What have we here?” His voice breaks through my fog, and I gasp as fingertips brush my labia. “You are soaking wet, Macie.” He says it like he’s surprised. Good lord. Has the man ever looked into a mirror?

“Yes, Sir, I sure am.”

A soft chuckle accompanies him slipping a finger into my wetness. I moan loudly as he massages that perfect spot inside. “Very nice.” He removes his finger and slides two inside. While he moves them in and out, he rubs my clit with his thumb, and I turn to jelly.

Now I’m moaning and writhing against his touch as an intense orgasm begins to build. Not shy any longer about the silly skirt, I’m glad it’s open in the back. If this is the reward for letting him spank me until I cry, bring on that chainmail flogger and leather paddle!

***Other Buy Links***

Friday, July 14, 2017

The Duchess and the Highwayman by Beverley Oakley

The Duchess and the Highwayman
By Beverley Oakley

Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate and an ebook The Mysterious Governess.to randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.




Blurb:
A duchess disguised as a lady’s maid; a gentleman parading as a highwayman.
She’s on the run from a murderer, he’s in pursuit of one…

In a remote Norfolk manor, Phoebe, Lady Cavanaugh is wrongfully accused by her servants of her brutal husband’s murder.

There’s little sympathy in the district for the duchess who’s taken a lover and made clear she despised her husband. The local magistrate has also vowed revenge since Lady Cavanaugh rebuffed his advances.

When Phoebe is discovered in the forest wearing only a chemise stained with the blood of her murdered husband, she persuades the noble ‘highwayman’ who rescues her that she is Lady Cavanaugh’s maidservant.

Hugh Redding has his own reasons for hunting down the man who would have Phoebe tried and hanged for murder. He plans to turn ‘the maidservant with aspirations above her station' into the 'lady' who might testify against the very villain who would see Phoebe dead.

But despite the fierce attraction between Phoebe and the 'highwayman', Phoebe is not in a position to admit she's the 'murderous duchess' hunted across the land.

Seizing an opportunity to strike at the social and financial standing of the man who has profited by her distress, Phoebe is drawn into a dangerous intrigue.

But when disaster strikes, she fears Hugh will lack the sympathy or understanding of her unusual predicament to even want to save her a second time.


Excerpt:



“The doctor doubts Ulrick will make Michelmas.” The lazy drawl of her husband’s cousin punctuated the silence as Phoebe resumed her position in an armchair by the fire.

Wentworth raised his cut glass tumbler to the light as he sighed in appreciation of Ulrick’s best brandy. He took a sip and smacked his lips, meeting Phoebe’s eye across her sleeping husband whom she’d made more comfortable in his large leather armchair with the tasselled cushion Phoebe had embroidered to support his neck.

The odious creature could not help but interpret Phoebe’s critical expression correctly, but there was no defensiveness in his tone as he chuckled. “The old bastard can’t enjoy his riches when he’s gone.” His teeth were white; sharp and wolfish beneath his black moustache and Phoebe looked away, pretending concentration on her handiwork while her stomach clenched with revulsion and fear. She would not dignify Wentworth’s grasping remarks with a response.

For a few minutes Ulrick’s wheezing, rattling cough and the hiss of the fire broke the silence. The harsh caw of a raven in the darkness made Phoebe jump but she kept her fingers busy with her embroidery and her head averted from Wentworth’s hard stare.

Tonight? Would Wentworth insist on claiming her tonight, with Ulrick so very ill and likely to need her?

Wentworth drained his glass, placing the empty vessel clumsily upon the low table beside him. Empty vessel. It’s what she’d always been made to feel as Ulrick’s wife. “Ulrick was always mean with his liquor. A good supply for his heir, then, eh, Phoebe?” Ulrick’s Heir. Wentworth imbued the word with the disgust he’d always felt for the fact that Wentworth was not Ulrick’s heir. It was hardly better than the reproach that had always hardened Ulrick’s tone in the days he could speak and implied that Phoebe had failed in providing him with a son to continue the family line.

Phoebe glanced up and saw Wentworth’s thin lips were pursed, observing fleetingly that he looked like a malevolent raven, his dark eyes glittering in the face she’d once thought so handsome. She tried not to show her fear.

“How long do you suppose it’ll take my brother to drink the lot once he inherits?” There it was. The bitterness he didn’t bother to hide.

“Hush, Wentworth. You’ll wake Ulrick.” Phoebe cast the sleeping invalid a nervous look.

“The doctor opines that our poorly Lord Cavanaugh will not last three months.” Wentworth didn’t trouble to lower his voice. “My guess is he’ll be gone long before Michealmas.”

Phoebe could bear it no longer. She dropped her handiwork into her lap and sent her husband’s regular and increasingly unwelcome guest an imploring look. “Please, Wentworth. He’s not dead yet. Have the good grace to keep such thoughts to yourself. What if he hears you?”

Wentworth gave a short laugh. “What do I have to lose by my graveyard talk? It’s not as if Ulrick’s in any position to deny me what my imbecile brothers already have simply by virtue of them being alive.”

How many times had she heard the same complaints? Phoebe forced aside her weary frustration and rose. “I’m going to bed.” 

                                    Author Info: 
Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.

Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

You can get in contact with Beverley at:
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Lady of Thorns by Nicola M. Cameron

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Lady of Thorns is the third book in a series that was never supposed to be a series. I’ve ...