Title

Title

Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Babe in the Woods Jude Hopkins

 

Tour Spotlight HTML Babe in the Woods

Babe in the Woods
Jude Hopkins

Genre: Women’s Fiction
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press Inc.
Date of Publication: June 7, 2023
ISBN 978-1-5092-4843-8 
ISBN 978-1-5092-4844-5 
Number of pages: 294
Word Count: 72,321 
Cover Artist:  Tina Lynn Stout

Tagline: Timber! She’s Falling in Love

Book Description: 

It’s September 1995, the first year of the rest of Hadley Todd's life. After living in Los Angeles, Hadley returns to her hometown in rural New York to write and be near her father. 

In addition to looking after him and teaching high school malcontents, Hadley hopes to channel her recent L.A. heartbreak into a play about the last moment of a woman’s innocence. But she seeks inspiration.

Enter Trey Harding, a young, handsome reporter who covers sports at the high school. Trey reminds Hadley of her L.A. ex and is the perfect spark to fire up her imagination. The fact that Trey is an aspiring rock star and she has L.A. record biz connections makes the alliance perfect. She dangles promises of music biz glory while watching his moves. 

But the surprising twist that transpires when the two of them go to Hollywood is not something Hadley prepared for.

Amazon     BN


Excerpt:

There was a knock on the door as Hadley sat down with a bowl of chocolate-chip ice cream. She glanced at the clock: 8 p.m. Sunday night. She’d shot the whole weekend, mostly grading papers and sleeping the day before.

“My God,” she said aloud, remembering Trey’s promise to make good on a date. How could he possibly show up after she’d been so deliberately elusive? She had forgotten the resiliency of some guys.

“Who is it?” she trilled, bouncing a mound of the frozen dessert on her tongue. She cleared her throat and repeated the question, all the while picking up the detritus from the weekend—the pizza box, the ice cream container, the National Enquirer.

“ ‘Tis I, Old Dog Trey,” he yelled through the door. “Ever faithful. We have a meeting, remember?”

She used her fingers to comb her hair and moaned when the mirror reflected a wan, puffy face staring back at her.

“I never confirmed any meeting,” she said through the door. She hurried to straighten the cushions on the couch. “I’ll take a rain check.” Her heart was doing double time.

“C’mon. Please open the door. It’s getting chilly out here.” His voice was deeper than usual.
She brushed the lint off her sweatshirt and zipped up her jeans before opening the door.

Trey was twirling the end of a white stick in his mouth. With a loud slurping sound, he pulled from his mouth a bright red lollipop before sticking out his tongue, which now matched the color of his shirt.  

“Fire your secretary,” he said, tapping his watch. “May I come in?”

She let him in, the shame of her unkempt apartment equaled only by the shame of her own disheveled appearance.

He stood close to her. “I have to say, you are much more attractive without all that make-up.” He talked with the lollipop stuck in his cheek. “Definitely younger.”

It was an approach she remembered from her time with Derek. First you surprise them, then compliment them when they’re at their most vulnerable. She made a mental note.

He walked toward the nearest chair, sat down, but quickly jumped up again, fishing in his pockets. “Where are my manners? Here.” He extended a lollipop, grape flavor, her favorite.

“No thanks.” It wasn’t even on the level of the apple Neil had given her on the first day of school. Besides, what was with men and their semiotics anyway? Perhaps it beat communicating with words. And how in the world would he have known grape was her favorite flavor? Was she that transparent? Was there a grape “type” as opposed to an orange or cherry type? The grape type would be moody and dark. The orange type would be young, perky, sassy. The cherry type? Passionate, desirable. Like him.

Lollipops aside, he was lusciousness itself, the blood-red shirt adding to his angel-faced carnality. His skin glowed, no doubt from a day spent in the autumn sun with a frisky faun. 


About the Author:

Jude Hopkins has published essays in The Los Angeles Times, Medium, the belladonna—and poetry in various journals including Gyroscope Review, Timber Creek Review and California Quarterly. Her first novel, Babe in the Woods, will be published June 7, 2023. She has also taught English and news writing at various universities, including the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford, Arizona State University and St. Bonaventure University in Olean, N.Y. She also worked at Capitol Records in Hollywood for a few halcyon and unforgettable years.









at No comments:

Friday, May 26, 2023

Truth in Blue All that Matters Book One Mirai Amell

 


Truth in Blue
All that Matters 
Book One
Mirai Amell

Genre: High Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: March 20, 2023
ASIN: B0BWNFMMFT
Number of pages: 379
Word Count: 102K
Cover Artist: MiblArt

Tagline: Sometimes life is better as a lie.

Book Description:

Malakai wanted to protect his kingdom from threats beyond its borders. Instead, stripped of his magic and on the run, he now needs to save it from his brother, the king himself.

Amaryllis wanted to have nothing to do with humans. Instead, stranded in the wrong realm, she now needs to retrieve a lost fae relic with powers no one comprehends.

Una wanted to be a knight in shining armor. Instead, haunted by the memories of a life she never lived, Una now needs to find answers from someone she doesn’t remember meeting. 

When their paths cross, each must decide what matters to them the most.
Or risk losing everything they hold dear.

In a world where Angels and Shades battle for souls while the Devil sips his tea, the fate of one country, two races, and four realms hangs in the balance when love and loyalties are tested to their limits. 


Excerpt - Chapter 1

No place like home

The palace was too quiet.

It should have been abuzz with many familiar noises: gardeners tending the plants, cooks clanging the utensils, and servants running errands. Instead, the rhythmic clip-clop of the hooves from Ciaran’s horse was the only sound echoing across the palace courtyard. The perfectly manicured shrubs and flowers blooming during peak summer looked exhausted, having to keep the facade of their expected sunny disposition. In contrast, barricaded in a garden corner, rooted yet lifeless, the prana plants glinted cunningly. With the sunlight bouncing off their amber-colored crystalline form, it was as if they were watching him.

As if they knew something he didn’t.

The trained senses of a King’s Knight warned him, but Ciaran dismounted, nevertheless. How could he be wary of a place he had called home for so long? After a few moments of deliberation, Ciaran decided to tie his horse to one of the pillars near the doorway, just in case. 

He had practically grown up at the palace, having arrived there at thirteen to live and train as an apprentice knight. His father, Oswald—a Bender and the Lord of Korbridge—had still been alive then to watch with pride when Ciaran had received the royal crest that declared him a King’s Knight five years later. The metal emblem, carved with a golden sun rising from behind a jeweled dagger, was pinned to the chest of Ciaran’s black coat when Oswald passed away a few months after the ceremony. That had been six years ago. Malakai had stayed by his side through the ups and downs, the triumphs and losses. He was a friend, a rival, a comrade, and the closest thing to a family Ciaran had left.

He would gladly walk into a raging fire if it were for Malakai.

Now, Ciaran walked into the decidedly frosty palace.

No one greeted him in the main hall. The throne room, offices, and foyer were all eerily deserted.

He could sense people around, hear their hushed whispers and the echoes of their footsteps, yet it seemed they were deliberately avoiding him. Ignoring the strange stillness in the air, he resolutely walked toward his sleeping chambers in the north wing. Of all the knights in the country, only ten were chosen to be King’s Knights, the ones who lived in the palace, attending to the ruling King of Castellon.

Halfway to his destination, he stopped at the edge of the winding stairs. The stairs diverged here: one set of steps went up to the royal residence, and the other went down to the palace dungeons, a place that brought back haunting memories for him. He tried to shake them off and turned to take the stairs going upwards.

“I see you’re back already.” The hostility in the voice of General Atkins standing before him startled Ciaran. The five knights, who had crept up behind him in the meantime, didn’t appear any friendlier. Reva, Lucia, Feris, Goran, and Jahir all held weapons. To make things worse, they knew each other too well.

“General, where is he?” Ciaran could not stop panic from rising in his heart. The aging General had gray in his hair, but his height and breadth made him a mountain of a man. The formidable presence of this experienced warrior was enough to make grown men wet themselves (most grown men). Still, Ciaran did not break eye contact with his mentor, his emerald eyes demanding answers.

The General winced almost imperceptibly before replying, “The king sent him to Lasceraz.” Ciaran’s blood froze in his veins; he was too late for his friend.

“They’d such a shouting match that the stewards had to call me from my home in the city,” Atkins said. “I found Malakai unconscious on the floor, and the only thing I got from the king was the order to transport him to the dungeons in Lasceraz. In chains. Ciaran, what’s going on?”

The General implored him for some explanation.

“How long ago?” Ciaran ignored the General’s question to ask his own.

“Nearly three days now. What are you guys keeping from us? Answer me!”

Ciaran didn’t reply, his mind already calculating his next steps. Lasceraz, the infamous prison, was in the southernmost corner of the country. It would take several months to reach it on horseback unless he secured the service of a space-Bender mage—like the General, for sure, had. Fortunately, he knew one who used to work for his father, but Bender Farley lived in Ciaran’s hometown Korbridge, and it would take a few days to reach there from Castle. The longer he delayed, the more time Malakai would rot in Lasceraz.

Just as Ciaran turned around to leave, the knights readied their weapons: two sets of daunting daggers, two shining swords, and one menacing mace pointed straight at him. The General himself did not carry anything, standing with his arms crossed in front of him. Not to mention that Ciaran was not a mage, but two of the knights and the General were. Taking a deep breath, he brushed his sandy hair back with his right hand; a few locks strayed back over his green eyes.

“You truly believe you can stop me from leaving?” he asked, smiling for the first time since entering the palace grounds.

The knights looked highly uncomfortable, for they were well aware of who they were up against. People in the kingdom might not know his name, but every knight in the country knew of Ciaran’s reputation.

“No. I don’t believe we can manage that…” The General replied truthfully, “But I need to say that we tried our best regardless.”

Ciaran gave his mentor a quick nod, steadied his sword, and took his stance. “I understand.”
***

He couldn’t understand how he was still alive.

His entire being ached; his muscles and even his bones were sore.

Malakai tried to turn on his bed to find an angle where it would hurt slightly less, and a pained yelp escaped his mouth. The cold iron bit his wrists, sinking its unyielding teeth into his joints. He opened his eyes to find himself chained to the walls.

Lasceraz. A wave of despair overtook him, making it hard to breathe. Was the air always so stale and thick here? Malakai had toured the prison many times but never noticed how dark it was. The cells were made of thick granite, without even a tiny window to allow light to peek through. With some effort, he turned his head upwards and regretted it immediately. Everything swam before his eyes, and a sharp pain made him retch, only to realize he had nothing left to vomit apart from his blood.

After his body stopped shaking from the shock, Malakai felt a strange emptiness inside him; the warmth and comfort of his magic were barely there anymore. The panic that rose through him was worse than the bile he tasted in his mouth. He tried his best to calm himself, to convince himself that it could not be gone, for magic was made of prana: the life energy coursing through every living being. It had to be somewhere if he was here. But the more he searched, the more it became evident that it was dying.

And he was dying with it.

Malakai’s eyes blurred once more. Were they tears of sadness, knowing he had lost everything he held dear, or tears from the burning torment his body experienced with the slightest movement? He couldn’t tell them apart.

As his eyes focused again, Malakai remembered there used to be a window in every cell once upon a time. The first king of Castellon knew light was a beacon of hope; it kept the fight alive in people. His descendant, the current king, also understood what it meant to the prisoners. So, five years ago, he ordered all the windows to be boarded up. Malakai was the one who had supervised the project and seen the dejected looks on their faces, caked with dirt and grime, yet he never fully comprehended. Until now.

Many of them were murderers, kidnappers, and swindlers, but there were others who couldn’t pay the ever-increasing taxes; people who had no reason to be in the infamous jail of Lasceraz.

Yet, they were.

So was he.

“Get 'im to eat somethin’.” The metallic tinkle of keys alerted him as the room door opened. A guard dressed in red and yellow placed a bowl of soup in front of him while another held a lantern in his hand. Malakai wondered how many days had passed since he was sent here and if Ciaran knew his fate yet. It was no coincidence that he was incarcerated when each of his allies within the King’s Knights happened to be out of the capital.

“Three days. You’ve eaten nothin’.” The guard brought a spoon with the soup near his mouth.

“Please!” the man nearly pleaded and added, “Yer Highness.”

The other guard looked equally awkward. Malakai understood how disturbing it must be to treat the second prince of their kingdom as a mere prisoner—torn between their absolute loyalty to the orders issued by the king and their instinct to protect a member of the royal family. His older brother might be the ruler of Castellon (and he made sure to remind people of that constantly!), but Malakai was a soldier, first and foremost. He had spent time with guards, trained them, and inspected prisons as part of his duties, something the pampered king never bothered himself with.

He opened his mouth to let the guard feed him. Under no circumstance was he allowed to be free of his manacles. Such was the rule in Lasceraz, where every prisoner was kept in maximum-security solitary confinement. Sip by sip, he finished the bowl of soup, and the guards released simultaneous breaths of gratitude, likely because they had half-expected him to protest, or worse. Malakai didn’t want to make it any harder on them than necessary, considering they would have a tough enough time when he escaped. His weak stomach rebelled despite his noble intentions not to trouble the guards; a dull ache radiated from his core, spreading out like a volcano spewing lava, and Malakai keeled over in pain.

After they helped him throw up everything he had just ingested in the chamber pot, one of the guards tried to say something but couldn’t. Ignoring the grip of fatigue threatening to suffocate him, Malakai smiled and said, “It’s not your fault.” He meant it, but they hung their heads in shame and left the room without checking the chains, forgetting that they’d loosened the shackles slightly to let him clean up earlier.

He didn’t doubt that Ciaran would find a way to get him out of here.

But maybe Malakai could beat him to it.
***

Being beaten in a battle wasn’t something Ciaran ever worried about.

However, victory always comes with a price.

As he rode his tired horse away from Castle, the capital city of Castellon, Ciaran had to admit that while he’d managed to get out of the palace in one piece, thankfully without killing any of them, it hadn’t been easy. Every hesitation, every indecision from one side was used by the other. It was a wonder he’d made it this far.


About the Author:
 
Mirai Amell is the pen name of a neuroscientist who believes in myths and magic as much as she trusts molecules and microscopes. When she is not doing science, or reading fantasy books, or watching anime, Mirai scribbles poems published in anthologies like From One Line Vol(s) 1-3, Wounds I Healed, and The Crow’s Quill magazine. 

Currently, Mirai lives in Seattle, where she researches various brain things.








at No comments:

Saturday, May 13, 2023

Forged In Lies The Monarch Series Book One Raven Dark and Jenna Stirling

 

Spotlight 1


Forged In Lies
The Monarch Series 
Book One
Raven Dark and Jenna Stirling

Genre: Dark Dystopian, Why Choose MC Romance
Publisher: Raven Dark
Date of Publication: April 23, 2023
ASIN:  B0C3CYFH5B
Number of pages: 348
Word Count: 106,428 words
Cover Artist: Raven Dark

Tagline: This world is full of deadly beasts. And I might be worse than any of them…

Book Description:

This world is full of deadly beasts. And I might be worse than any of them…

I remember life before the solar flare destroyed society. And I remember pieces of the dystopian hellscape that followed.

But my memories are fractured. Full of holes and inconsistencies.

How I managed to slit the throat of a biker twice my size is a complete mystery.

But I did. Easily and without thought.

Now, the dead man’s four ruthless MC brothers want me as their captive plaything in the bedroom, and their assassin in the outside world.

I should hate them. Fear them. But I don’t.

My attraction to these sexy savages is as inexplicable as my nagging feeling that something—or someone—is coming for me.

All I can do now is hope the sleeping beast inside me is ready to kill when I need it…and that the brutal men I’m falling for don’t get caught in the crossfire.

“Forged in Lies, book 1 in the Monarch series, is a dark, post-apocalypse why choose romance featuring a strong heroine, and the merciless alpha males who love her. (Think The Handmaid’s Tale meets Sons of Anarchy, mixed with a dash of Firefly, but with more happy endings and spicy times.) Download today and hope your e-reader doesn’t go up in smoke.

***WARNING***This book contains sexual situations and dark scenes that may upset some readers. If you have triggers, please do not buy this book. Cliff-hanger ahead. HEA at end of series.


Excerpt:

Havoc’s grip tightens, unmistakably possessive. His eyes gleam down at me. “Back off, Twig. I choose who she’s with. And you won’t be on the list.”

Twig’s brows go up in surprise.

Havoc looks at me and blinks, apparently caught off guard by his own words. “Relax, pretty girl,” he adds, pushing past Twig. “You belong to me now. No one will touch you unless I say so.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I mutter.

And yet my sex slicks at his sheer possessiveness.

“Not sure how you’re getting to me, but you’ll pay for it later.” His voice is suddenly gruff.

“You better count on a rough night.”

My pulse stutters. What’s with this guy? One minute he sounds as if he wants to keep me all to himself, and the next he wants to pass me around. How many guys are we talking here?

Trying to distract myself from Havoc’s effect on me, I dig the bread out of my pocket and nibble on it. I look at Sage. Not sure what I’m hoping for, but his expression tells me nothing. It’s as if I’m frozen out, and something between us has evaporated.

“Havoc, Sage,” a guy shouts, striding over to us. He’s tall and athletic-looking like Sage, but with blond hair pulled into a ponytail. “What the fuck took you two so long? Venom’s pissed.”

“That’s nothing new.” Havoc grabs a beer from a barrel near him, and Sage does the same.

“What happened at Gore’s?” Ponytail smirks, watching me eat. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. “And what’s up with the strange?” he adds.

My gaze zeros in on the patch on his cut. I take in the acronym, committing his rank to memory. Second In Command.

At his tone, Havoc’s hand moves to my nape. I could swear Sage stepped closer. Ponytail’s smile widens.

“Gore’s dead,” Havoc says, guzzling his beer. “Couldn’t pay his dues.”

“Fuck. Another one? This’ll put the Keep in a hell of a mood. What about his women?”

“Dead too,” Sage says. “They were gone by the time H found them.”

“Shit. They would have fixed a lot of problems. All right, Sage, send a couple guys out there to scavenge.”

“You got it, Hutch.” Sage heads over to a group of guys standing with Twig.

“So, who’s the bitch?” Ponytail—Hutch—asks, nodding to me.

 “Gore tried to hide her when we showed up,” Havoc says. “She wasn’t his, though.”

“Stray pussy, is it?” Hutch’s eyes narrow on me. “I’ll take first crack at her.”

Havoc pushes me behind him. I think I actually hear him growl.

Hutch grins and lifts his shoulders. “Fuck, what’s with you? You’re like a dog with his food.

Well, you better bring her to Keep first before you stick your dick in her.” He’s laughing as he

turns and heads for the house.

I scrunch my brows at his retreating back, then glance up at Havoc. He knows I’m MC. Why didn’t he report it to his Second?

“This way,” Havoc orders me, heading after Hutch. “Wait until Venom sees you. He’s probably gonna want your ass first.” He pauses and leans down, lowering his voice to that growl that makes my blood heat. “And I’ll eat up every second, pretty girl. I bet watching would be almost as good as fucking you.”

Alarm bells ring in my head. I gotta get out of here now before this gets any worse. And I have to get to Charlie. As long as I’m here, I can’t do that.

Heart in my throat, I lower my eyes, searching for an escape route. Some of the bikes sit without men near them, keys dangling from ignitions. One’s a few feet away. Even if I could get Havoc to let go, he’d catch me before I reached it.

Still...

We’re closing in on the front doors, Havoc’s long strides eating up the grass. If I’m going to act, it has to be now.

I lurch, pretending to stumble. Havoc loses his grip. I whip around and sprint toward the nearest bike.

Havoc curses. Shouts ring out. Panting, I swing onto the bike, kick the stand up, and fire up the engine.

“Stupid bitch,” Havoc roars.

Out of nowhere, a strong arm snakes around my neck and I’m yanked off the bike. I land on my ass with a yell before I’m pulled to my feet and spun around.

I have about a half a second to see silver-blond hair before the guy swings his fist right at my face.

 
About the Author:

As a young girl Raven Dark dreamed of being abducted by a savage alien warrior, whisked away by a brutal pirate, or rescued by a cape-bearing hero. When none of these men came to claim her, she brought them to life in her stories. Then twelve years ago she met the man of her dreams. He doesn't wear a cape, fly a spaceship, or wield a sword, but sometimes she swears they've mind melded.

Raven lives with her dream man and their one cat that thinks she's a dog in the Mundane world's version of Ontario, Canada. When she isn't working on her latest erotic romance novels and crafting interesting worlds in which to set them, she's spending too much time with friends, feeding her Youtube addiction, or curled up on a couch watching favorite shows with her future husband.










at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

War of the Sea - Kickstarter Olympian Wars Book One Dana Claire

  War of the Sea - Kickstarter Olympian Wars Book One Dana Claire Genre: Fantasy Romance Publisher: Chamberlain Publishing House ISBN: 97989...