Sunday, August 28, 2016

Romance, action, suspense, danger - full length erotic historical 99¢ #TinaDonahue #LovingLies #EroticHistorical

Great news! My full-length erotic historical Loving Lies, book one of my celebrated Dangerous Desires series, is on sale August 28 through October 2.

99¢ until October 2

Loving Lies - a warrior knight and the spirited woman he simply can't tame.


Amazon - BN - KOBO - iTunes

Deception knows no limits. Passion knows no bounds.
When she’s kidnapped, Senorita Isabella knows the men have been sent by her uncle in a murderous attempt to control her family’s fortune. But when she is rescued by a dashing and mysterious warrior, Isabella can’t imagine why a stranger would risk his life for her—until she discovers her rescuer believes she’s someone else….
Fernando de Zayas loves nothing more than the cry of battle. Defying death is his way of life. But when he discovers his betrothed has been kidnapped, he rushes to her aid—never suspecting that spirited beauty would soothe his warrior heart…
With her uncle’s minions close on their heels, Isabella finds herself drawing closer to Fernando. But as the desire between them builds, her secret could keep them apart forever…

Excerpt:
The Moorish Kingdom of Granada, Spain—1488
Al-Caicería—The Great Bazaar
“Harem!” The slave trader’s shout rose above other voices in the open-air market. He dug his fingers into the hooded robe hiding Isabella Lopéz de Lara’s face and nudity. “Harem!”
The Arabic word seemed to linger in the still, warm air. Sweat trickled down Isabella’s cheek. Her abduction in Andalucía, on orders from her murderous uncle, was far too real and horrifying now.
Someone brushed past, startling her. The individual’s sandals or boots slapped hard against the ground, the sounds fading quickly. Isabella snatched a breath. The hem of her robe pulled away from her legs. She stilled, terrified to move. Work-roughened fingers slid over her ankle and up her calf.
Holding back a scream, she backed into the slaver. He released his hold on her robe and shouted in Arabic, his words incomprehensible to her. An object whistled close to her face, followed by a harsh crack and a man’s agonized cry.
The hand jerked away from her leg. A series of brutal whacks and stumbling noises rose above the other sounds.
Swallowing hard, she listened for what she couldn’t see.
Too many buyers shuffled close, stirring up dust to mingle with the scents of cooked meat, cloyingly sweet perfumes, the stench of animals and men. Crude male voices yelled the word harem repeatedly. Moments later, fabric snapped.
She pictured the slaver stripping one of the other captives, forcing the poor woman to display herself.
Murmurs floated through the crowd. The slaver shouted above them, making the men speak faster, louder.
As they offered bids?
She shuddered, expecting the slave to plead for mercy.
Whoever the girl was, she held her tongue, seemingly resigned to her fate the Moors deemed qisma, destiny.
Men pushed past with cruel indifference, some pressing so close Isabella could smell the grime on their robes. Sickened, she stepped back. The slaver said something and ran his fingers down her shoulder to her arm, touching the side of her breast. She jerked away from his filthy touch. Those surrounding them laughed. The slaver pulled her tightly against him, proving she was in his world, his property, even though she was the daughter of a grandee and duke.
Her late father’s position hardly mattered now. Her only hope was in escape that seemed impossible.
Voices rose and fell during countless negotiations, sheep bleated, children played. Someone spoke above the din, the tone unusually high-pitched, sounding neither female nor male, marking its owner as a eunuch. A man who was no longer male.
His comments grew strident. The slaver shouted in return.
Her pulse pounded. If a way out existed, she had to see it. The eunuch and slaver argued on. She pulled at the hood of her robe and slowly lifted her head until she could see past the cloth.
The sun hung heavy in the sky, turning Granada’s structures a blinding white. Squinting at the overwhelming brightness, she regarded the numerous towers to determine if guards watched from there and would see any attempt at escape. If not, where would she flee?
Granada was a city of countless dwellings and strangers who would never offer sanctuary to a Spanish noblewoman. The free women here were as shrouded as she was, with only their eyes uncovered. However, if she could secure one of the dark robes sold in the market and disguise herself as a Moorish woman, there might be a chance to flee. No man would dare break the sanctity of the veil, not even to search for an escaped slave. The Moors’ religion forbade it.
The robes were tantalizingly close, though still out of reach.
The slaver’s voice rose again. He spat on the dinars the eunuch had offered. The eunuch’s palm looked as soft as a woman’s, his dark face bearing no trace of a beard. Clearly impatient, he gestured to Isabella’s robe. The slaver yanked the hood off her head. She gasped.
A flurry of excited murmurs rippled through the crowd. The eunuch stared openly at her elaborately braided hair, apparently stunned at its unusual auburn color. The slaver gestured to her robe, his words seeming to imply how the Moors had prepared her body for sale. The eunuch focused on her eyes, the same blue-green as Queen Isabella’s, a color well known within Spain’s Royal House of Trastámara.
The slaver’s broad smile revealed most of his decayed teeth. When he spoke again, the eunuch grew thoughtful.
On a shuddering breath, Isabella searched the market for any means of escape and found none. Too many people pressed close with no clear route from the area. If only she could see what was behind her, she might find a way out.
A quick glance showed even more people and cramped stalls, proving how trapped she was. The eunuch’s high-pitched shout suddenly rose above the slaver’s angry growl. Wanting away from them, she inched back. The eunuch dashed to her right, blocking her. The slaver to her left and reached for her robe.
Piercing wails filled the heated air.
Isabella stiffened. The slaver’s hand fell from her. He and the eunuch turned toward the sounds. Two dark-robed women pressed their hands to their veiled mouths. Children had stopped playing, their youthful eyes widened in wonder or fear at an aged man. His white beard trailed down his chest, and infirmity bent his tall frame, forcing him to keep his face lowered. He wore a turban and full robe, the voluminous fabric hiding the contours of his body.
Suddenly, he thrust his hand into a fire used to cook some manner of food.
Many in the crowd gasped. A young girl backed into a basket of olives, toppling it. The fruit rolled across the ground until it reached a pool of spilled honey where a black cat prowled.
The aged man kept his hand in the fire without bellowing in pain. He chose three smoking coals, tossing the hot embers from his right hand to his left much as jugglers did at fairs with brightly colored balls.
This was no fair nor was he a juggler, but a fakir, a holy man.
Isabella had heard tales of such beings who traveled the Arab territories. Fakirs had no homes or commerce, begging for food as they roamed from place to place, performing amazing feats to shock everyone, as he did now. Merchants, free women, and children waited to see what the strange man would do next.
With no one watching her, Isabella prepared to break into a run, to lose herself in the throng.
The fakir tilted his face and met her gaze.
Her heart caught. His eyes were arresting and strangely beautiful, his gaze so intent she stepped back. His expression changed. With a hard frown, he seemed to warn her to remain where she was. He turned to the eunuch and slaver, crying to them in Arabic, his voice reedy with age.
Her stomach churned. Was he warning them of her intent to flee?
When he looked back at her, raw power lit his expression, holding her to the spot.
Even if she’d wanted to move, she couldn’t now. The eunuch and slaver stared at her.
The air grew heavier than before and far too still. The slaver adjusted his weight from foot to foot as he and the eunuch spoke to the fakir. The holy man answered in kind, juggling the hot coals. He drew closer to them, his movements inefficient and tottering, no different from a babe. The slaver stepped back. The eunuch did not. His shrill voice rose in what sounded like an oath. The fakir hobbled closer, the hot coals jumping more slowly between his hands. At last he responded, his voice low.
The eunuch scowled and shouted a string of foul-sounding words. The fakir grabbed the eunuch’s throat, pressing the hot coals to it. Squealing in agony, the eunuch fell to the ground, rocking and mewling.
Frightened sounds rippled through the crowd. The holy man spoke to the spectators, who exchanged glances with each other and shuffled back.
The fakir grabbed more hot coals from another fire and staggered toward the slaver. Unlike the eunuch, the slaver offered no retort as he stepped back quickly. The fakir followed. It was a strange dance, the fakir plodding forward a step, the slaver retreating the same distance as he focused on the newest coals.
Again, Isabella realized no one noticed her. Before she could think to escape, the fakir was at her side, clutching her hair in his free hand, shouting at the others.
Again, they backed away.
He yanked Isabella toward him and whispered in Castilian, “When I release you, grasp your throat and cry out. Your freedom and life depend upon it. Do you understand?”
Her heart hammered so wildly she could barely breathe, much less think. With no time to consider why he would help her, she nodded.
The fakir shouted something to the others then brought the coals close enough for her to feel their heat. She clutched her throat and wailed.
The slaver spoke hurriedly, his words seeming to beg for mercy.
The fakir lifted the hot coals to his mouth and blew. Flames poured from his parted lips. Screams tore through the crowd with more than a few bolting.
The fakir gripped her wrist, his touch steel.
Again, he lifted the coals to his lips. Flames shot out of his mouth, which he directed to the black silk hanging on a stall. The cloth caught fire. He bolted, pulling her with him.


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Saturday, August 27, 2016

Dark Redemption - Tortured Hero - New Series #Romance #DarkRedemption


Please welcome Sarah Marsh. Sarah's here to tell us about her latest work Dark Redemption, book one in her Broken Souls series.

Awesome cover and a great concept.

Read on for details...
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DarkRedemptioneBook

DARK REDEMPTION

by Sarah Marsh

Broken Souls Series, #1 Release Date: August 30, 2016 Publisher: Limitless Publishing Cover Designer: Redbird Designs

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SYNOPSIS:

Sofia Boon was ready to make changes in her life, but she didn’t see this coming…Taking a chance, she finds the nerve to ask out her handsome neighbor, but when he doesn’t show up for their date, Sofia knocks on his door and meets a man claiming to be his roommate, and she soon realizes she’s made a horrible mistake.
Eitan Kent is a tortured man, haunted by a death he was unable to prevent…
Eitan believes he is unworthy of being loved. He buries himself in his work and takes a job to track down a wanted criminal, Ben Donovan. He locates Donovan’s apartment, but finds it empty—until Donovan’s “date” shows up.
Eitan doesn’t know what to make of sweet, curvy Sofia, but she’s the only lead he has…
Feeling he has no choice, Eitan decides to take her with him to see if she can somehow lead him to Donovan before it’s too late—or if her innocence is all an act and she’s involved in the bastard’s crimes.
Sofia is terrified and tries to explain to the dark stranger that she barely knows her neighbor and has no idea how to track him down, but Eitan knows exactly how to get the truth from her. Who knew a little torture could be so sweet? 


Dark Redemption PURCHASE

AVAILABLE AUGUST 30!!

Kindle Unlimited: http://amzn.to/2b8b90v Paperback: http://amzn.to/2bfUaZH

Dark Redemption banner fem

Excerpt:

That rat bastard! She thought as she watched him stroll out of the room just as though nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just gotten her so turned on that she thought she’d spontaneously combust and then just…left.
Sofia didn’t think about what she would have done if he’d tried to have sex with her. That would just ruin the fury she was currently riding. She should be relieved he hadn’t tried to force her. She should have been, logically speaking, but she had to admit to herself her overheated body was ready to beg for release and that her traitorous hormones were killing the rational part of her brain. Sofia knew it was crazy, but all she could think about right now was that the most satisfying way to get some relief was under her sexy captor. It was an issue that only got worse as he walked back into the room with a tray of food and all that beautiful, tanned bare skin.
“Here, let me help you sit up so you can eat,” he said, putting the tray down on the nightstand and moving closer, “Or would you rather wash up and use the bathroom first?”
“Bathroom first, please,” she said immediately, thinking she could follow his lead and get some satisfaction while cleaning up.
But clearly her eagerness must have given her away because he raised one eyebrow in challenge.
“Okay, but you have ten minutes to shower, and you are not allowed to touch yourself other than to get clean―am I understood?” he said in a firm tone as he leaned forward and undid her wrists.
“You’re going to watch me?” she asked, not quite certain if she was offended or turned on at the prospect. She wondered for a second why his firm tone seemed to excite her more than it should have.
“Do you want me to watch you?” he whispered low next to her ear, causing awareness to spread through her entire body.
Sofia was a little breathless at the thought of putting on the same show for him as he did for her, but in the end, her pride won out over the wanton need she felt inside.
“No,” she barely answered, and it sounded weak even to her ears.
His deep chuckle at her answer made her nipples peak even more, and she was almost disappointed when he leaned back and pushed the timer on his watch.
“You’ve got ten minutes, Sofia. Then I come in and get you.”
Sofia had never used the washroom and showered so fast in all her life, she got done with barely a minute to spare as she put her bra and underwear back on and then wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel before she walked back out into the room.
“You can keep the towel until you’ve eaten, then it’s off,” he said once he saw her.
She’d take that small win, and she took her sweet ass time eating as well until he finally took the tray away after she’d spent five minutes chewing a single piece of melon.
“Now are you going to make this difficult on both of us or are you going to behave?” he said as he motioned toward the wrist cuffs once again.
She thought about it, but there was nothing she could do against his superior strength, so she begrudgingly laid back against the padded headboard and raised her wrists.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “I told you everything I know already.”
“Well, I’ll see about that soon enough, won’t I?” was all he said in reply as he fastened the cuffs and picked up the tray before he left the room.
****
By the time Eitan had gotten the kitchen cleaned up from breakfast and returned to the bedroom, he was already half hard from replaying how she’d looked watching him come in the shower. He thought about putting on a pair of jeans, but why bother? He certainly wasn’t ashamed for her to see how she affected him and she sure as hell didn’t seem to be put off by his body, so he may as well use that to his advantage, right?
“Ready for the ankle cuffs?” he asked as he entered the room.
He saw her swallow hard and move her legs tighter together.
“Why do you have to?” she asked with a worried look. “Are you going to touch me?”
“You don’t want me to touch you?” he challenged, already knowing her body didn’t have any arguments.
“Of course I don’t want you to touch me!” she answered, clearly trying to sound offended that he’d suggest such a thing, “I don’t even know your name!”
“Well, that’s easy enough to remedy,” he said as he placed one knee on the bed and pulled up the first ankle cuff. “My name is Eitan. Now give me your leg, Sofia.”
He could tell she was surprised he’d given her his name, and to be truthful, he was a bit surprised by that himself. But the more he thought about his name on her lips as she moaned her pleasure, the harder his cock got. He was doing all sorts of things with this little captive that seemed to be breaking his rules, and Eitan wasn’t sure he really cared.
When she tentatively placed her little foot in his hand, he quickly attached the cuff and then slowly ran his fingers over the softness of her skin. Clearly she waxed her legs as the skin was still supple and hair free. That thought made him more aware of the noticeably smooth skin under those pretty purple panties, and his mouth watered as he imagined how soft it would feel under his tongue. As he fastened the second cuff and her legs moved further apart, it was all he could do not to crawl up her body and relieve her of those panties just as he’d fantasized about doing in the shower this morning. It was then that he finally had to admit to himself that this interrogation was probably going to be more difficult for him than it was going to be for her…because his self-control was already bucking to be let loose.



DarkRedemption jacket.jpg  

SARAH-LOGO

ABOUT THE AUTHOR — Sarah Marsh

Sarah Marsh was born in British Columbia where she still lives, she has only recently began her writing career finding it the perfect outlet for taking the edge off a nine to five office job. She’s been a science fiction and romance junkie for years and when her imagination started to take the characters she’d read about even further in their adventures she decided to try writing something of her own.

Sarah’s also a former pastry chef and spends a lot of time cooking and baking for friends and family as well as painting and knitting. Her biggest weaknesses are animals of any kind…she even loves the ones that wake you up at four in the morning because they can almost see the bottom of their food dish.

When it comes to life in general she’s a big believer that laughter is the best medicine and that there’s no such thing as too much love, which is why she’s such a sucker for a happy ending.



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Friday, August 26, 2016

Closer to You - Romantic Comedy #RomanticComedy #Romance

Cat Mason is here today with a wild romantic comedy Closer to You. You don't want to miss this.

Read on for more info...
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  Copy of CLOSER-TO-YOU---FB-BANNER

Title: Closer To You
Author: Cat Mason
Release Date: October 21, 2016
Hosted by: DRC Promotions

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 CLOSER TO YOU - EBOOK COVER

Blurb

Life in the limelight isn't all it's cracked up to be. After years of constant touring, and a close call with an overly obsessive fan, Bristol Lachlan has reached her breaking point. Running on fumes, and fighting a wicked case of writer's block, the lead singer of Absent Without Leave has gone missing in action.

Tage Crosby has taken more than his share of hits, both on and off the ice. Hanging up his Captain's jersey, he now spends his time running the only bar in the small town of Grindstone Harbor. The last thing he expected was for a woman to come into town and rock his world, but his beautiful new neighbor has a way of leaving him tongue tied and tripping over himself every time he gets near her.

Bristol knows her time in Grindstone Harbor is only temporary. The recording studio calls and so does the stage. But, what happens when your private life is exposed by flashing lights and what you see suddenly isn't enough anymore?

Do you go after what is missing and pull it closer to you?

Warning: This is a hilarious romantic comedy that may cause you to need spare panties for several reasons. The pages are full of steam, awkward moments of hilarity, and general epic fails of the human kind. Please read with caution.
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Pre-Order Closer To You Now

Teasers

Copy of CLOSER-TO-YOU---MUFF-MAGICIAN
Copy of CLOSER-TO-YOU---BARKING-BEACH-COW


Copy of CLOSER-TO-YOU---DAMAGE

About The Author

Cat Mason is a thirty year old, married mother of three. When she isn't writing; she is spending time with her kiddos or reading. She was born and raised outside of St. Louis, Missouri, just over the Mississippi River in Granite City, Illinois. Cat writes romance of all kinds with twists of humor.


Connect with Cat

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CLOSER-TO-YOU---FULL-WRAP


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Thursday, August 25, 2016

Defragmenting Daniel - Sci-Fi Thriller and a Contest #Thriller #Sci-Fi #Contest

Jason Werbeloff is here today with an exciting read - Defragmenting Daniel, his sci-fi thriller. Love the cover.

He's also hosting a great contest - read on for details...
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Jason will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.



Defragmenting Daniel: The Organ Scrubber
by Jason Werbeloff


GENRE: Sci-fi Thriller

Purchase link for Defragmenting Daniel: The Organ Scrubber - The book will be free on Amazon for 4 days, August 24 – 27 2016.

The Organ Scrubber is the first fragment of the Defragmenting Daniel trilogy:
Fragment 1 – The Organ Scrubber
Fragment 2 – The Face in a Jar

Fragment 3 – The Boy Without a Heart

BLURB:

7 stolen organs.
1 vengeful victim.
A gruesome sci-fi thriller.

Organ scrubbing was a bloody job, but somebody had to do it. Daniel, an orphan from the Gutter, was put to work scrubbing kidneys at aged twelve. The job had its perks: a warm bed, Law and Order reruns, and an all-you-can-eat Mopane worm buffet.

Until the Orphanage stole Daniel’s parts, and sold them on the organ market.

Now Daniel has grown up, and yearns to become whole again. The cybernetic organ replacements just aren’t the same – he needs his parts back. But the new owners of his organs won’t give them up. Not without a fight.

Just how far will Daniel go to regain his missing pieces? And how much more of himself will he lose along the way?

Defragmenting Daniel is a cyberpunk crime thriller that will unnerve you. Every part of you.

“A work of great imagination. Powerful and gripping.”
“A stark and moving experience.”
ReadersFavorite.com, 5 Star Review




Excerpt:


“You feel that, son?”

“No siw,” Daniel mouthed. His tongue was numb. Had been numb since they’d replaced it with the generic a year ago, but it felt more swollen than usual. Clumsy against his palate.

“That’s good. Try to relax.” The surgeon’s voice was deep and quick. Like a scythe. “Music, nurse.”

With Daniel’s head turned the way it was, he looked directly into the surgeon’s crotch. He tried to turn away, but his head had been immobilized.

A beat Daniel remembered from somewhere rolled through the operating theatre. The bass vibrated along the legs of the steel table, up, into the brace that pierced his skull, down, through its metallic fingers, and into his brain. It tickled.

The surgeon shifted. A nurse’s masked face replaced the crotch. “Don’t move.” Only her eyes showed above the mask. The doctors and nurses all looked the same with their masks on. How do they tell one another apart?

A grainy woman’s voice hissed through the beat.

We had you cleaned

We had you eat

The high-pitched whine of a bone saw echoed in Daniel’s skull. “We’ll have you open in no time,” said the surgeon.

Daniel felt pressure against his temple, above his right ear. The whine of the blade morphed to a lower, choppy grind.

We had you bathed

We had your feet

Yes, he remembered the song now. It was all the rage in the cafeteria on Friday nights, when they cleared the chairs to make room for an ad hoc dance floor.

“How the kids?”

“Good, thanks doctor. Jordan’s starting school next week.”

“Already?”

Daniel tried to swallow, but lying on his back with his head fixed at this angle, most of the saliva dribbled onto the operating table.

We ate your lungs

We heart your beat

The bone saw slowed to a toothy stop.

There was a hollow metal twang, as something red dropped into a metal bowl on the edge of Daniel’s vision.

“You doing okay there, boy?”

“Yeth, ma’am.”

The surgeon bent down. Peered into Daniel’s eyes.

“We’re in. Won’t be too much longer now.”

Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  








AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Human. Male. From an obscure planet in the Milky Way Galaxy. Sci-fi novelist with a PhD in philosophy. Likes chocolates, Labradors, and zombies (not necessarily in that order). Werbeloff spends his days constructing thought experiments, while trying to muster enough guilt to go to the gym.

He's written two novels, Hedon and The Solace Pill, and the short story anthology, Obsidian Worlds. His books will make your brain hurt. And you'll come back for more.

Subscribe to his newsletter to receive a free novel, and a lifetime of free and discounted stories: http://smarturl.it/werbeloff

**Amazon Author Page – http://smarturl.it/AuthWerbeloff  - download all of Werbeloff's fiction from Amazon.

**Newsletter – http://smarturl.it/werbeloff - subscribe to get 'The Solace Pill' free, as well as VIP access to Werbeloff's latest fiction.

**Soud Cloud –  http://soundcloud.com/jason-werbeloff/ - listen to stories from Obsidian Worlds narrated by the inimitable Marc Ryan Rees.

**Goodreads –  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7340789 - read and submit reviews of Werbeloff’s fiction.

**Facebook  http://www.facebook.com/solaceseries  and Twitter  https://twitter.com/JasonWerbeloff – follow Werbeloff for release date information on upcoming shorts and novels.

**Website -  http://www.jasonwerbeloff.com/ -  read about the author, and the philosophy behind his fiction.





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Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Cover Reveal - Foolish Bride - Historical Romance #Romance #HistoricalRomance

Please welcome A.S. Fenichel. She has a beautiful new cover to share.

Let's give her a hearty welcome, and be sure to leave a comment to show your love.

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Series: The Forever Brides 
By A.S. Fenichel
Genre: Historical Romance
Release Date : 3/28/2017
Publisher : Kensington Books
ASIN: B01HWKOF1K . ISBN: 9781601839657 .      

Preorder buy links

Amazon: Barns & Noble: iBooks: Google Play: Kobo:

 

Blurb

Sadly ever after. . . unless some dreams really do come true? . Elinor Burkenstock never believed in fairy tales. Sure, she’s always been a fool for love—what woman isn’t? But Elinor knows the difference between fiction and truth. Daydreams and reality. True love and false promises. . . . Until the unthinkable happens, and Elinor’s engagement is suddenly terminated and no one, least of all her fiancé, will tell her why. . Sir Michael Rollins’s war-hero days seem far behind him when, after onelast hurrah before his wedding, he gets shot and his injuries leave him in dire shape. He wants nothing more than to marry Elinor, the woman of his wildest dreams. But Elinor’s father forbids it . . . and soon Michael is faced with a desperate choice: Spare Elinor a life with a broken man or risk everything to win her heart—until death do they part?

About the Author


 A1 Headshot asf 

A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back. A.S. adores writing stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic and maybe a little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to finish a good story. Look for her on the Historical or Paranormal Romance shelves. A.S. is the author of The Demon Hunters series, The End of Days Trilogy, Wishing Game, and more. A.S. will be bringing you her brand of edgy romance for years to come. Originally from New York, she grew up in New Jersey, and now lives in the East Texas with her real life hero, her wonderful husband. When not reading or writing she enjoys cooking, travel, history, and puttering in her garden. Her babies are both rescues and include; a demanding dog and a temperamental cat, both bring constant joy and laughter.


A.S. loves connecting with readers. Here’s where you can find her.

Web Site- http://asfenichel.com/

Blog - http://asfenichel.com/blog/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/A.S.Fenichel

Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5154640.A_S_Fenichel

Twitter - https://twitter.com/asfenichel

Google +1 - https://plus.google.com/113195747154467378107/posts



We'd Love to hear what you think of this new cover. A.S. Will be checking in and responding to any comments. 



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The Scorpion's Empress - chance to win a $50 GC #Contest #EroticRomance #GCGiveaway

Yoshiyuki Ly is here to tell us about The Scorpion's Empress, an erotic romance. Smokin' hot cover!

There's also a super contest. Read on for details...

___________

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.


The Scorpion’s Empress

by Yoshiyuki Ly

GENRE: Erotic Romance


BLURB:

After years of serving a corrupt government, Ser Videl, an idealistic paladin, learns that her younger sister is tangled in a dark scheme against Raj Mangala, the compassionate yet troubled Empress of the city's oppressed lowtown; the two women meet and are deeply drawn to one another, finding a shared sanctuary in their violently-divided city. The Scorpion's Empress is intimately written through the eyes of both twenty-seven year old women.

Videl's loving devotion is just what Raj craves, but Raj is wary of letting her guard down while protecting her throne. Determined to prove her worth, Videl chases after Raj and works to unravel the mystery of the plots against the Empress. Raj wants Videl to serve her emotional and sexual needs, and the two explore a meaningful relationship of dominance and submission that delves fully into their deepest wants. When the conspiracy against Raj comes to a head, Videl's loyalties are tested when she is forced to choose between her past and her Empress.





Excerpt:

This promise of adventure—I hadn't felt it properly in years. Women for me have come and gone, literally. The beginnings were never like this. They hadn't looked at me with such controlled, respectful want. Like a gentleman. Like a knight—a true paladin. They hadn't held their hand out to me, not giving a damn about everyone staring at us. They hadn't asked me to dance as Satya sang such a haunting, romantic song about uncertain longing.

And then she spoke again: “I'm assuming another rule is that I don't get to learn your real name.”

That was way more than anyone else had managed to do.

I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “The name's Raj. You're not allowed to tell no one. Promise me.”

“I won't betray your trust. I swear that on my honor. I really like your name. It suits you, all the power you have. Tell me whenever I have permission to call you that. I'd like to earn it.”

She guided me over to the dance floor. The crowd parted to make room for us. They whispered to each other as we passed by; they saw how entranced I was, no matter how hard I fought to hide it. I watched the seriousness turn over as shadows across Videl's beautiful face. Serious, but soft, somehow—she had a perfect balance of the two almost all the time.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Yoshiyuki Ly was born in San Diego, CA. She lived there until moving away to college. In high school, she began writing fanfiction as a serious hobby. Her pen name is representative of her multiracial heritage and a unique, diverse outlook that is reflective in her work. While pursuing an undergraduate degree in philosophy, she spent her free time reading the works of Virginia Woolf, Soren Kierkegaard and Simone de Beauvoir. She then spent the next years honing her craft to become a published author.

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