Friday, October 18, 2019

Author @angelaswriter makes a #giveaway tour stop with new release #contemporaryromance #suspense Dark Justice


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Romantic Suspense / Contemporary Romance
Date Published: September 17, 2019

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She’s in love with her sister’s killer...
Lauren has loved Luke since first grade. They planned to marry—until he murdered her sister. The moment he was sentenced to prison, Lauren fled with her secret baby and made a new life. Now she’ll do anything to keep their daughter safe. But her hard won peace shatters when Luke is exonerated, and it sets her on a path of mixed emotions to discover the truth. Letting a killer into their tightly knit family is out of the question. Or is it?

She almost destroys her life by threatening his…
Prison stole his future with Lauren and twelve years of Luke’s life, so the last thing he needs from her is a knife in the back or a gun in his face. Lauren believes he killed her sister, and he has no plans to pick up where they left off. Luke can’t afford to trust her, but he wants nothing more than to convince her he’s worth fighting for.

Their daughter is in danger…
Luke is heartbroken when he learns they had a child together. Now his daughter is in danger. Lauren trusted the wrong person for far too long, but he hopes she’ll now trust him. Luke will risk everything to keep them safe. And Lauren will risk everything if she lets him into her heart.

Read a teaser
Adapting to the openness had taken awhile. In prison, he’d been alone, despite the crowd. But here, he was out in the boondocks with the crickets croaking and the coyotes yapping, echoing and prolonging the eerie silence afterward.
He loved it. But after his release, he dreaded every moment. The silence. Feeling incredibly alone. He’d considered a pet, but the upkeep was more than he was willing to handle at the moment.
He jumped when the door slammed and Lauren waltzed out.
“I love jalapeno poppers,” she said. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve grilled some of those.”
“I’ve got the makings if you want to do it.”
She clapped her hands together. “Yes, let’s do that.”
“I picked enough jalapenos this morning, but we can always grab more from the garden if you want.”
“Too dark and I’m afraid of snakes. I’m sure you have plenty.”
She prepped the poppers and he prepped the fire, and they drank another margarita while the food cooked. They sat around the fire under the stars instead of the deck, near a large oak tree that had been the focal point of many parties with friends and family. They chatted about the weather, the river and the current news. Once the poppers were done, they ate a few and chatted more, but nothing too serious.
“You wanna just eat jalapeno poppers and margaritas tonight?” he asked, never wanting this night to end.  
“Sounds wonderful.”
He grabbed a stick and thrust a wiener on it. “How about we at least roast wieners?”
Laughing, she seized the stick and jabbed it in the fire. “I thought I had already roasted yours.”
His loins jumped. “That you did.”
She removed the burning wiener from the fire and blew on it. As she took it from the stick she muttered. “Hot, hot, hot.”
He grabbed a paper plate and placed it under the wiener, where she let it fall. “Of course, it’s hot silly. It just came from the fire.”
She set the plate on the table and blurted, “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”
“You didn’t trust that the hot dog was hot?” He took his from the fire and blew, but laid it across the plate before sliding it from the stick.
“No.” She swept her hand through the air. “About everything else. For years I thought you had slaughtered my sister. How can I step away from that and remember what things were like before?”
Shadows skimmed Lauren’s body. The dim light from the fire and from the deck’s lighting flickered around her, enough to discern most of her features. He leaned closer and brushed a finger across her cheek. “Knowing me the way you did, how could you even think I would do something like that?”
Lauren shrugged. “Maybe I had a few doubts, but I called it wishful thinking. Then I went through such pain and heartache I didn’t have room for doubts. Everyone convinced me. Your cap. Your knife. Your motive. Clint…” Her voice bubbled, a tenuous thread of something he couldn’t name. Regret? Remorse? Confusion?
Luke jerked away. His muscles tensed, gut twitched.
“We became friends. Not like you and I were, but he was there for me—”
“Of course he was.” His voice was harsh, hot like the fire steaming from his pit.
“As Laramie grew up, he became her godfather. But she didn’t like him and never wanted to be alone with him. She never accused him of anything, but she steered clear of him. Even her instincts were right and I couldn’t see through my pain.”
He stood. Yes, they should have this conversation. They needed to have this conversation at one point. And now was as good a time as any. But it was too hard to sit. Too hard to face the demons that Lauren’s mistrust in him had stirred.
“If I had doubts, I…I—”
“You had too many people lying to you.”
She stood and planted her palms on his chest. “But you never lied, did you? You were the only person who didn’t.”



About the Author

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Angela Smith is a Texas native who, years ago, was dubbed most likely to write a novel during her senior year in high school. She always had her nose stuck in a book, even hiding them behind her textbooks during school study time. Her dream began at a young age when her sister started reciting 'Brer Rabbit' after their mom read it to them so often. She told her mom she'd write a story one day and never gave up on that dream even though her mom was never able to see it come to fruition. By day, she works as a certified paralegal and office manager at her local District Attorney's office and spends her free time with her husband, their pets, and their many hobbies. Although life in general keeps her very busy, her passion for writing and getting the stories out of her head tends to make her restless if she isn't following what some people call her destiny.



Contact Links

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Purchase Link

Saturday, October 12, 2019

Out now from @GaleStanley #paranormalromance #werewolves #newadult Read an excerpt @changelingpress



The Alpha's Demiwolf (Utopia 1)

Author: Gale Stanley
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Art: Bryan Keller
BIN: 009067-02934
Genres: Paranormal, Romance, New Adult, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Werewolves

Blurb:

Kya: I’m a demiwolf -- half wolf, half human, and both species despise my weird mix of genes. Despite the fact I strip for a living, I’ve hung on to my virginity for twenty-two years. Until I got knocked up by a big, bad wolf. Now, I’m going to bring another demiwolf into the world, but his father will never know.

Levi: I’m all wolf, and Alpha of my pack, committed to keeping our bloodlines pure. Then on the night of my bachelor party, I hooked up with a stripper. I just wanted to teach the demiwolf a lesson, but the sex set me on fire. My wolf claimed her and now I can’t get her out of my head. But what if she won’t accept me?

Available at:


 This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.







Excerpt:

The Alpha's Demiwolf (Utopia 1)
Gale Stanley
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley

Kya
I cringed when I saw the billboard proclaiming, Girls! Girls! Girls! It was a tacky way to get attention, and I hated it. Averting my eyes, I turned the corner, pulled into the lot, and parked my old pickup behind the club. It was my first night at Show ’n Tails, and a definite step down from my old job, but I’d been fired and needed a gig ASAP.
The incident wasn’t my fault. There were two of us on the stage and Brandi was so sloshed she invaded my space and fell on her ass. As if that wasn’t enough, she accused me of tripping her. Well, one thing led to another and we both got canned. Another girl told me that Show ’n Tails was hiring and I went for an audition. The manager was an asshat, but he doesn’t ask too many questions. I like to keep a low profile.

This isn’t the life I wanted, but taking off my clothes pays the bills, and I won’t apologize for trying to earn a living. At least I’m not selling my body, just the illusion of sex. A lot of girls up their game, but not me. My virginity is the last piece of self-respect I own and I won’t give it up to some creep for any amount of money.

The heavy backdoor slammed shut and locked behind me and the manager shot me a dirty look. “Hey, Kya. You’re late.”

“Sorry, it won’t happen again. And my name is Raven when I’m working.”

Marty’s lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You better get dressed. I mean undressed.” He snickered.

I ignored his disrespectful ass, and walked over to the dressing room. A row of dented lockers lined one wall. A wide counter with a lighted mirror behind it ran the length of the opposite wall. Everything stunk from sweat and cheap perfume. The long vanity was cluttered with makeup and no one made room for the new girl, so I started changing next to my locker. When a spot at the mirror opened up, I grabbed it and started working on my wild black curls.

Marty stuck his head in the door. “Hey, fresh meat, you’re on next.”

I knew he meant me. I was the newest girl there. Half of me cringed, the half that’s wolf. The half I keep hidden. Or is it a quarter of me I keep hidden? I guess it depends on how you look at it. A full-blooded wolf-shifter is already half human, although they’ll never admit to it. My father was a wolf, but my mother was human.
Does that mean I’m… Oh, fuck the fractions. No matter how you look at it, I’m a demiwolf.

But I look human. I checked my body in the mirror. Yep, a hot as hell human female stared back at me. Tacky, but sexy. Nothing says stripper like stiletto platform heels and a thong that shows off a girl’s booty. I slipped on a white, halter mini-dress with a drape-neck, an open back, and a side slit. Then I ran my hands through my curls and gave my lips one last swipe of purple-plum gloss.

It’s so much easier to call myself human and blend in with the majority. The humans are clueless. They know we exist, but they believe we keep to our own side of the tracks. The wolves are a different story. They can smell my lupine pheromones, but they don’t want me. I’m not pure. Fuck ‘em. At least I can make a living among the humans. Stripping might be a trashy job, but it pays for the life I’m trying to live. It’s not the life I want, but it’s all I’ve got. I used to dream about being accepted by my father’s people. Fat chance. They wouldn’t even accept him because he had a human lover and a half-breed kid.

My parents never married, but they lived together -- sometimes. When my father was around, I was daddy’s girl. But all too often, he would disappear as if he had no family. My mother would drink and tell me that he liked to hang out with his own kind in places where we weren’t accepted. When he came back from his trips, he’d act cold and resentful, but it wouldn’t last long. Eventually, he’d tell me he loved me and everything would be okay again. I thought nothing would keep us apart for good. I was wrong.
One day he didn’t come back. We found out he was killed in a bar fight. One of his so-called friends called me a mongrel and Dad died defending me. My mother cried and cried. She said this was why they never wanted kids. So I was what… an accident?

I couldn’t blame them. Not really. Life was hard enough without being born with this weird mix of genes. I hated myself, too. I wished I’d never been born. At least I could make things easier for my mother. As soon as I finished school, I left home and never looked back.

While waiting to go on, I thought about my routine -- floor work, then pole dancing, then back on the floor. I’m not nervous anymore about being naked in front of a roomful of men. I was at first, but now I focus on my moves. I’ve been scorned and dehumanized all my life, so I like to emphasize something I can do well -- dance.

I peeked through the curtain and watched Candy finish her routine. There’s a mirror behind the stage and a pole in the center. Chairs surrounded the stage for customers who wanted direct contact with the dancers. I watched one of the men put a bill in his mouth. Candy shoved her breasts in his face and used them to grab the money. There were hoots and hollers and more men waved bills at her. She collected all of her tips, then picked up her clothes, and ran off the stage.
The DJ, sitting in an alcove nearby, introduced me. “Next up is a beautiful lady who’s new here. You’re gonna see her naked for the first time tonight.”

Well, it’s not a complete lie. It’s my first time naked on this stage.

“Give Raven a nice warm welcome.”

My heartbeat skyrocketed as I stepped through the curtains and climbed the three steps to the stage. The opening bars of my music started up and I began to move.

* * *

Levi
My anticipation ran high. I’m always excited to see new talent. Samson made a joke about the taste of fresh meat and we all laughed, then I looked up at the stage and my eyes practically popped out of my head, like in one of those old cartoons. The new girl… what’s her name? Raven. She took my breath away. Her curvy shape and that thick black mane had me salivating. From what I could see, everything looked natural, and she had the best set of legs in the club.

“That is one hot piece of ass.” Samson stood up. “I need a closer look.”
Samson walked over to the stage and we all followed. Raven smiled in our direction and my heart took a leap. Her white mini dress emphasized all that golden skin, but it was her eyes that really stood out. Almond in shape and color, they seemed to be staring directly at me.

Author Bio and Links

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.





Friday, October 4, 2019

I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind... Read a #teaser from new #crime #thriller as @LeaBronsen releases Carnivora

Hi, and thank you for having me on your blog! I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm. Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time. Please note that this is part 1 of Carnivora and I am currently working on parts 2 and 3, so if those cliffhangers at the end are killing you, be patient. The continuation is right around the corner!  

 
Fight evil with evil. TOMOR Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list. LUZ Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor. DAVID A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men. The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.  
Available from
Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads
See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest
 
 

Excerpt

“Time to change your bandage again,” the nurse mutters, voice cool, and pulls my orange-colored sleeve up to the elbow. She unrolls the long strip of bandage from my wrist and tugs at one corner of the gauze plastered on my wound. It sticks as if glued to the freshly grown skin, and instead of removing the gauze carefully, she tears if off hard, discharging pain through my arm, wrist-to-shoulder. I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow. “What the fuck are ya doing, trying to reopen the wound or something?” “Like you care.” She stops pulling and glares, gauze between her fingers. “I can see who you are inside. You’re playing tough, aren’t you, bad guy? But you can’t fool me.” “Shut up.” I lay down again, huffing, and stare at the white ceiling above me with its rows of long neon lights. “You’re a good man.” I glance back. “I said, shut the fuck up.” Her eyes shine. She rips off the remaining gauze, ignoring my grunt of pain, and throws it in a bin. “Look.” No fuck. “Look at it,” she insists, voice low and demanding. No. I know what I’ve done, and I can imagine what it looks like. A six centimeter-long deep, reddish, scratched-up ridge along my artery. Layers of skin, fat, meat, and whatnot must be visible and sweating a pinkish liquid from the reborn pores. I don’t need to see it. I guess the girl wants me to be so horrified, I’ll never attempt suicide again. That’s right. She wants to shock me into acceptance. You gotta be fucking kidding me, little thing. She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.” “You mean they shoulda given me the chair?” Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on the wound, and bandages it with quick routine moves. What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted the things that make her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me. The door opens. She jumps. A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits. She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure. I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?” She visibly swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall. I snicker. “Are you sad ‘cause I’m leaving?” Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me. As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently, so the inmates can’t identify their ‘caretakers’, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down. I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?” She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.” “C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, teasing her, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.” She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous? Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up. “Come on, Babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.” “Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage. “’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”  

About the author

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Meet Lea Bronsen on
 

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

Slaves to Desire by Eli Gilić (@GilicEli), published by Sinful Press (@SinfulPress)—Just 99c/p Throughout October!





Slaves to Desire by Eli Gilić is a unique, beautifully written erotic short story collection that deftly weaves fact and fiction. Originally published in Serbian, Sinful Press is over the moon to present the English language version of this amazing collection in both digital and print. To celebrate, we are making the ebook version available for just 99p/99c throughout October.


Blurb:

Charles Baudelaire, Rasputin, Anna Karenina, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet and Ophelia, Fyodor Dostoevsky, George Sand, Frederic Chopin, Vincent Van Gogh, Antonin Artaud, Maria Izquierdo, James Joyce, Federico Garcia Lorka, Salvador Dali.

Can Rasputin find redemption through the sins of others? What awaits Anna Karenina on the other side? Does passion still flow through the veins of the lovers from Verona? Can Hamlet and Ophelia escape their fate? Is Van Gogh’s loneliness a blessing or a curse? And can Dali dispel Lorca’s fear.

Eli Gilić deftly weaves fact and fiction to bring some of the world’s great writers, literary characters, artists and composers to life as they reach the heights of passion and the depths of despair in this mesmerising erotic short story collection.

Sales links:

Apple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/book/slaves-to-desire/id1466674642
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/slaves-to-desire-eli-gilic/1130547023?ean=9781910908358

Excerpt from ‘Lovers in the Land of Peyote’ (María Izquierdo and Antonin Artaud), Slaves to Desire:

They brought him half-dead on a donkey, took him to his room, laid his feverish body on the bed and left me alone with him. I was terror-stricken as I listened to his frantic screams and incoherent ravings about virgins and donkeys. I wiped his burning forehead for hours and tried to reach him. He writhed, flailed his arms and legs, and I had to avoid blows carefully.
My strength was dissolving when Antonin suddenly stilled. I feared the worst, but he opened his eyes. Delirium had passed. His eyes were bright and curious. Such relief overcame me that I kissed him without thinking. I poured all the love that was burning in my heart into that kiss. I realised what I had done only when he returned my kiss. But there was no reason for anxiety because Antonin was overcome by desire just like me. He kissed me feverishly, as if to compensate for all the months of restraint. A surge of happiness flooded me. I quickly took off my robe and pulled Antonin's pants down his legs.
Antonin just looked at me with mild disbelief. Fearing that he would pull away and say that we shouldn't, I quickly settled above him before he had a chance to object. I had to feel him at least once. I think my heart would have broken if I didn't manoeuvre him into me.
I looked him in the eye as I slowly descended on his hard manhood, choking from inexplicable joy. It seemed like I was becoming whole because he was filling me. I lacked something essential before Antonin entered my life just as my body had missed something vital before I felt him inside me. When I came down completely, I stilled to interpret his look. But I saw nothing except great love and total abandonment. As if to encourage me, Antonin grabbed me by the hips and began lifting and lowering me. I started moving and together we found the rhythm of lovers. Our bodies moved as if of their own will, as if saying something to each other with those feverish movements. Movements as old as the world, yet completely new, full of mysterious meaning known only to us. Faster, feverishly, marvellously coordinated as if our bodies had already done that in another world and time and we were only repeating what was carved in our hearts and bodies.
Antonin was moaning uncontrollably while rapidly raising his pelvis to meet my frenzied descents. Strangled sounds were escaping my throat, my insides were tightening from pleasure. The pressure was becoming unbearable, almost agonising. And then a miraculous burst, spasms that brought immense delight. The relief was so strong that I collapsed on him. Antonin hugged me tightly and jerked a few more times before freezing and crying out.
I sat up and showered his face with kisses, crying and laughing at the same time, mad from the rush of giddy joy.

Author Bio:

Eli Gilić is a writer and translator from Serbia who has spent much of her career translating best-selling novels for the Serbian market. She has also penned an erotic cookbook called Eat, Tease and Please.

Eli lives near a forest in Serbia with her three four-legged friends, and she spends her free time growing organic food, climbing mountains and jumping from waterfalls.

Slaves to Desire is her first short story collection, and it was originally published by Laguna, the biggest publisher in Serbia, before being translated into English for Sinful Press.

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