The Romance Reviews

Wednesday, November 24, 2021

Teaser from #Paranormalromance The Old Star for #ThrowbackThursday #magic #romance What's Hidden in this spooky place?



What’s hidden in this spooky place? A love story that will haunt you.

Available  to read free with Kindle Unlimited

The Old Star

She was looking for new office space...but it found her…what’s hidden in this spooky place?

When Cathy Faraday goes out from her office to buy morning tea, a set of circumstances send her on a different route from the one she would normally take. Waiting on a street unknown to her is a house. Old and left to fade away the house looks shabby against its neighbors. The whole row of houses are now offices and Cathy sees a ‘for let sign’ outside the place. Something draws her to the house. Someone watches from the third floor window.

Cathy applies to rent the building to expand her dating agency business. As she begins to make it ready, the house reveals its secrets.

Erotic paranormal romance, set in contemporary England this story will haunt you.

Read the teaser  excerpt

Cathy was driving back to her office, when halfway there, she decided to go and see the building she had just rented.

She knew the route now and was soon parking in the opulent car park. A sense of anticipation gave her butterflies in her stomach as she walked toward the building with the key in her hand.

The front door was ajar again and Cathy frowned. She inspected the lock. It seemed okay, but she decided it must be faulty. She’d seen locks like this before that appeared to lock, but then somehow the mechanism shifted and even a slight wind would blow the door open.

She didn’t think it likely anyone would have gone into the place because the square spoke of a quiet business environment. Cathy went in there happily. She walked around all the rooms and pulled the coverings off the windows leaving a small stack of newspapers in the corner of each room. The sun streamed in and cheered the place immediately. Cathy set about opening windows and was incredibly pleased to find they opened easily. The locks slid easily and the sash lifted smoothly. Soon the place was filling with fresh air.

Cathy went up to the second floor and did the same in the rooms there. After twenty minutes of activity, she stood still and silently at the bottom of the stairs leading to the top floor. She looked up there and then around her as if someone might see her. Cathy decided to creep up the stairs, and try the door.

She expected the stairs to creek eerily, but they didn’t and were just as solid as the lower staircases. At the top was a landing, only a square of floor space, and one door. The door had a beautiful bone handle. It was an ivory white, and carved with flowers, stars, and leaves. Cathy reached out her hand and took hold of the handle, to her shock, as it turned the hair on the back of her neck prickled up. A shudder of fear went through her as she pushed the door open.

The room she could see through the opening was huge. Sunlight filled it, and as Cathy walked in, she realized the room took up the whole of the top floor. There were big windows on each side and these weren’t covered with newspaper, or the brown paper. Cathy shook her head clearing her thoughts. She felt sure she’d seen paper at these windows when she was standing in the back garden looking up.

Suddenly, she realized someone was there at the far end. It was a man in jeans and a t-shirt, and he was painting the window frame. Cathy froze. She wasn’t supposed to come up here, but surely she ought to be informed if anyone was in the building. When she moved in, her client information would need the strictest privacy and security.

The man turned around and Cathy’s heart flipped. He was quite simply the most attractive man she’d ever seen.

He walked halfway down the room and stopped.

“Who are you?” His voice was low, husky, and as attractive as he was.

Cathy’s mouth went dry with fear and her instant reaction to this man.

“I’ve just rented the place. I’m sorry, I know this floor is off limits, but the front door was open and I thought…” She improvised what was a lie in reality.

The man approached her and her words trailed away as she took in the sight of him.

He was tall and muscular. His t-shirt wasn’t tight but showed his body to be hard, and Cathy had the most astonishing urge to go to him, and run her hands up underneath it to feel his skin. His hair spiked around his ears dark and untidy in a way that was endearing for her. His eyes were a shade of dark blue she hadn’t seen before. Calling him handsome wouldn’t do him justice. He was strikingly attractive. The shape of his face, jaw, nose, all added up to make a sight Cathy registered as dreamy. He was a hunk, gorgeous, sexy, and desirable.

He stood at arm’s length with the paintbrush in his hand.

Cathy gazed at him and he smiled. It was a lovely smile and disarmed Cathy even further. She began to back away.

The man shook his head.

“It’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m surprised to see you, but this is good. I didn’t know the place had been rented out.” His eyes held a curious expression. Cathy instinctively knew something in what he said wasn’t true, but he wasn’t angry, and he smiled again.

Cathy returned the smile.

“Cathy Faraday, and you are?” ‘He’s probably some tradesman the owner has employed and neglected to tell Alfred about.’

“Owen Sheringham.” He gave her a look that said this was all he was telling her. The look had authority, and Cathy suddenly thought he could be the owner of the building.

She nodded and backed away a little. Glancing behind her, she gestured to the door she’d entered and noticed that there were three doors. They were at intervals in the same wall and Cathy stared at them.

Owen followed her gaze and waited.

Cathy became aware of his waiting. It was tangible. She gestured again at the door she felt sure she’d entered by because it was at the end of the room near the big back windows.

“I’ll get going and let you go back to work. I only dropped by, and need to go back to my office.” She heard her voice waver, and it was all she could do to keep herself from turning and running. She reached the door and yanked it open, not realizing it had closed behind her.

Owen called out. “Come and see me tomorrow?”

Cathy only glimpsed his face as she fled through the door. He looked vulnerable and sad.

She let go of the carved bone handle and saw that she’d closed the door. For two minutes she stood there shaking, and searching the wall for any evidence of the doors that were on the other side of it. The landing wasn’t long enough to have the three doors lead out to it. ‘Perhaps they’re decoration.’

Cathy shook herself and quietly went down the stairs. Apart from finding Owen Sheringham devastatingly attractive, to the point where she felt sad that he wasn’t hers, there was something spooky about what had just happened.

She drove back to her office still feeling shaken and once there made herself black tea to shore up her nerves.

 Copyright Elodie Parkes, Hot Ink Press, and imprint of Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing

Friday, October 22, 2021

All the wealth in the world can't buy willing surrender #newrelease #BDSM from @lisabetsarai #historicalromance #enemiestolovers Power and Persuasion


New Release

Power and Persuasion:

A Gilded Age BDSM Romance

By Lisabet Sarai


Historical BDSM Erotic Romance

18,400 words,  71 pages

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463534946


All the wealth in the world can't buy willing surrender


She’s his natural enemy – and the only woman who can satisfy his perverse sexual needs.


Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with the daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart's desire: a submissive partner to share his life.


Labor activist Olivia Alcott is dedicated to helping the exploited factory workers responsible for Andrew’s wealth. The strike she organizes triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another: his need to command and hers to surrender.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Challenge to Him. It has been revised, expanded by two chapters, and re-edited for this release.


Buy Links


Kinky Literature –


Amazon  US –


Amazon UK –


Smashwords –


Barnes and Noble –


Kobo –


Add on Goodreads:



Read an Excerpt 


“Mademoiselle Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient! He is coming!”

The sputtering racket of an internal combustion engine drowned out the girl’s excited voice. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a boxy vehicle of shiny black, with silvery headlamps like extruded eyes. The noisy Studebaker rolled to a stop in front of the strikers, who stopped in their tracks like everyone else to stare at it.

The door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Where is she? Where’s your damned leader?”

The newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.

“Mr. Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her voice, the cool neutral tone.

“Damned right. And you are…?”

“Olivia Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her goals.

Olivia Alcott recognized lust when she saw it.

He towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers. She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though she might float away.

“And can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she would have expected. Her spirits rose.

“Instigator? Perhaps. But not the cause.” Sweat trickled from her hairline, down into her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here.” He surprised her by offering a crisp handkerchief of fine linen, of a white so pure it almost seemed to shine with its own light. The initials ‘AM’ were embroidered in the corner, in golden thread. A faint scent of lavender reached her nostrils.

“Why, thank you!” The square of cloth was far more effective than her hand. When she’d mopped the perspiration from her face, she held out the swatch of now-damp fabric. “Here you are.”

He waved dismissively. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens more. Let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“How much did this handkerchief cost, Mr. MacIntyre?”

“I have no idea. My secretary handles my personal expenses.”

“It’s imported linen, I suspect. Belgian, perhaps?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Miss Alcott—”

“And the monogram looks like real gold. Is it?”

“Honestly, what does that have to do with anything?”

Olivia tucked the handkerchief into her bodice, noting that MacIntyre’s eyes followed the movement. Indeed he didn’t try to hide his survey of her figure, rude as it was. Another tremor of strangeness fluttered in her belly.

“I’m no expert—I don’t have anything so fine myself—but I’d estimate that each of the dozens of handkerchiefs like this that you possess cost at least ten dollars.”

“Ah—really I don’t know—perhaps. Something in that vicinity.”

“That’s about two weeks of salary for one of these women who work here in your factory.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The cause of the strike, Mr. MacIntyre. You asked about the cause of the strike. These poor women—your employees, sir, to whom you have a certain responsibility—generally make five dollars a week. They’d have to work for two weeks—twelve days, twelve hours per day—to afford one of your handkerchiefs. Do you think this is just?”

“Well, they should be grateful they have jobs.” MacIntyre leaned closer, his manner and his voice menacing. “And if you don’t stop your meddling, they won’t. I’ll fire every single one of them in a minute. There are plenty of people who’d be happy for steady work, for a reputable company that’s not about to go bust and put them out on the street.”

“Won’t you consider raising their salaries, Mr. MacIntyre?” Olivia countered, inserting a bit of sweetness into her own voice. She laid her hand on his upper arm and felt his muscles shift under her fingers. “An additional dollar a week would make a big difference to them.”

“I’m running a business here, Miss Alcott, not a charity.” He pulled away from her grasp and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, then stepped past her to speak to the assembled workers.


About Lisabet


Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.


You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.


Join her VIP email list here:





Thursday, September 9, 2021

OUT NOW—The Persecution of the Wolves by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #paranormal, #wolves, #werewolves, #shifter, #thriller



Someone’s got it in for the Adams brothers. But who? And why?

Werewolf brothers Matthew and Isaac have lived in the peaceful village of Eyam, Derbyshire all their lives. The villagers know what they are, and have their reasons for keeping quiet. But this secrecy comes at a cost—the brothers can’t risk romantic entanglements.

Then, at the next full moon, a sheep is slaughtered on Eyam Moor, by what could only be a large animal. Even the brothers’ staunchest supporters begin to have their doubts about who—or what—could have done it.

As the brothers fight to clear their names, things are complicated by unexpected opportunities to indulge their lust. Isaac is intrigued by a handsome newcomer to the village, and a vivacious visitor is happy to offer Matthew her all.

Can the men prove their innocence, or is their centuries-old secret about to be revealed to the outside world, bringing their carefully crafted existence crashing down around their ears?

Please note: This book has been previously published. This version has been re-edited.

Universal Link:    




Chapter One

Modern day Eyam

As Matthew and Isaac Adams stepped through the front door to their house, the telephone started ringing. Matthew sighed. “Typical. No rest for the wicked. I’ll answer it—you go and get ready for work.”

Isaac nodded and headed off to do as his brother advised. Matthew, the older of the two, walked up to the ringing phone and snatched it off the hook. Then, remembering the person on the other end of the line would have no idea what a rough night he’d just had, he made the effort to inject some politeness into his tone.

“Hello? Adams residence.” Isaac had told him time and time again the last part about the residence was old fashioned, that people didn’t say that anymore, but Matthew couldn’t seem to shake it.

“Hello, Matthew? It’s Richard.” The village vicar’s voice, even though he’d only spoken four words, sounded strained, almost panicked. “You boys just get back?”

“Yes, a moment ago. Why, what’s up?”

“I, uh… I got a call. A dead sheep has been found up on the moor. Not just dead. Mutilated. Like an animal attack.”

An unpleasant feeling wormed its way under Matthew’s skin and his stomach flipped. “Oh?” He paused, then figured he had nothing to gain by not saying the next words he wanted to. “You don’t think it was us?”

The vicar’s gasp was instant, one of genuine surprise. “Lord, no! Absolutely not. I just phoned to let you know and I was wondering if you’d come up there with me and take a look? You and Isaac are probably more qualified than anyone else in the village to tell what did this.”

“Isaac has to work. He just went to get ready. But yes, I’ll come up. I’ll let my brother know where I’m going, then I’ll be straight over. Are you at the rectory?”

“Yes. Okay, I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Matthew. Bye.”


Matthew hung up the phone with another sigh. The horrible feeling that had crept under his skin and taken over his gut seemed as if it was there to stay, and it was never a good sign. The vicar’s news was surprising, yes, but he also had an inkling it was going to spell trouble, or at the very least inconvenience for him and his brother.

Pulling in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his jangling nerves, Matthew walked upstairs and towards his brother’s bedroom. The door was closed. He knocked. “You decent?”

“Yeah,” Isaac replied, “close enough.”

Matthew stepped into the room and looked at his brother. He was half-dressed, almost ready for his shift at the doctors’ surgery, where he was a general practitioner. “Sorry to interrupt, mate, but that was Richard on the phone. Someone’s found a mutilated sheep up on the moor, and he’s asked me to go with him to check it out.”

Isaac paused with one arm pushed into his shirtsleeve. “He doesn’t think—”

“No. He was quite adamant about that. He just thought we’d be able to help figure out what did it. I explained you’ve got to go to work, though. I’m going to head across there now and go up with him.”

“I could phone in, let them know I’ll be late.”

Matthew held up his hand. “There’s no need, brother. Relax. Just go to work and help the sick people. I’ll let you know what—if anything—I find out.”

Isaac opened his mouth, then closed it again, apparently having thought better of whatever he was going to say. He continued to dress. “All right, I will. But make sure you let me know what happens. Send me a text or something, and I’ll phone you as soon as I have a gap in between patients.”

Matthew grimaced. He hated texting. Hated mobile phones, actually. Technology was one of the things he disliked most about modern-day life, though it was a necessary evil. It solved as many problems for him and his brother as it created, so he dealt with it as best he could. Fortunately, Isaac had always had an affinity with computers and phones, so he tutored Matthew.

“Yes, all right. I’d better go and find my phone first then, eh?”

Smirking at his brother’s rolled eyes, he left the room and headed for his own bedroom, where he thought he’d left the device the previous night before he and Isaac had headed for the caves. On spotting the mobile phone—which Isaac often made a point of telling him was akin to a brick—he grabbed it, stuffed it into his pocket, and made his way downstairs.

Retrieving his keys from the hook by the front door, he called up to his brother. “I’m going now, Isaac. I’ll see you after my shift at the pub. I’m working until closing time.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to keep me posted.”

“I won’t.” As if he could forget. The dead sheep was going to be a big thing, he just knew it. The vicar might not think he and his brother had anything to do with it, but some of the other villagers might. When there was no proof either way, just his and Isaac’s word, it was understandable, really. Since he and his brother changed into wolves every full moon, it was a natural conclusion to draw. Particularly since wolves had been extinct in England for over five hundred years.



Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here:


Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

Wednesday, September 8, 2021

Her would-be groom and former business partner is arrested and her once-successful California real estate business in shambles #newrelease #romance @RebeccaHeflin


Seasons of Northridge, Book 3

Contemporary Romance

Release Date: September 9, 2021

With her would-be groom and former business partner arrested and her once-successful California real estate business in shambles, good girl Georgia MacKinnon plans to return to her hometown of Northridge. But before her return, she goes on what would have been her honeymoon and spends one wild, impulsive weekend in Las Vegas.

Enter bad boy Liam Dunbar, a convicted computer hacker turned wealthy entrepreneur who is trying to outrun his past. In Vegas for a friend’s wedding, Liam comes to the rescue of a beautiful woman in a nightclub. Troubled by the sadness behind her eyes, he vows to fulfill her every fantasy, if only for the weekend.

But all good things must come to an end. Mortified by her sordid weekend fling, Georgia does what any self-respecting good girl suffering from Sunday-morning regret does—she runs. No one needs to know. It is Las Vegas, after all . . .

When business brings Liam to Northridge, Georgia’s impulsive behavior comes back to haunt her. Concerned about her hometown good girl reputation, she persuades Liam to keep their fling a secret. Unfortunately, what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas.

Other Books in the Seasons of Northridge Series:

A Season to Dance

Seasons of Northridge, Book 1

A Season to Love

Seasons of Northridge, Book 2


About The Author

Rebecca Heflin is a bestselling, award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction since she was fifteen and her older sister sneaked a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss' Shanna to her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women's fiction and contemporary romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy with her day-job at a large state university.

Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.

Contact Links







Purchase Links






RABT Book Tours & PR