Friday, March 27, 2015

Book Giveaway Friday: NO GOOD DUKE GOES UNPUNISHED @sarahmaclean and ONCE A RAKE @eileendreyer

Every week, I'll give away a print copy to one lucky winner!

This week I'm giving away paperback copies of No Good Duke Goes Unpunished by Sarah MacLean and Once a Rake by Eileen Dreyer! Read more about the books below and enter to win using the Rafflecopter below.

A rogue ruined . . .

He is the Killer Duke, accused of murdering Mara Lowe on the eve of her wedding. With no memory of that fateful night, Temple has reigned over the darkest of London’s corners for twelve years, wealthy and powerful, but beyond redemption. Until one night, Mara resurfaces, offering the one thing he’s dreamed of . . . absolution.

A lady returned . . .

Mara planned never to return to the world from which she’d run, but when her brother falls deep into debt at Temple’s exclusive casino, she has no choice but to offer Temple a trade that ends in her returning to society and proving to the world what only she knows . . . that he is no killer.

A scandal revealed . . .

It’s a fine trade, until Temple realizes that the lady—and her past—are more than they seem. It will take every bit of his strength to resist the pull of this mysterious, maddening woman who seems willing to risk everything for honor . . . and to keep from putting himself on the line for love.

Goodreads | Amazon

All he wants is her help . . .

Colonel Ian Ferguson may be a rake, but he's no traitor. Accused of trying to kill the Duke of Wellington, the disgraced Scotsman is now a fugitive--from the law, the army, and the cunning assassin who hunts him. Wounded and miles from his allies, Ian finds himself at the mercy of an impoverished country wife. The spirited woman is achingly beautiful . . . and hiding some dangerous secrets of her own.

All she needs is his heart . . .

She was a child nobody wanted. Now for Lady Sarah Clarke, holding on to her vanished husband's crumbling estate is her final chance to earn respectability. She knows that hiding the devastatingly handsome Ferguson will jeopardize her home. Common sense demands that she turn him in. But a single, delirious kiss shatters her resolve . . . and awakens a passion that neither of them can escape.

Goodreads | Amazon

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Book Birthday: TAG by Shari J. Ryan @sharijryan

Tag sales banner

Today I'm celebrating the release of Shari Ryan’s Tag!!! And to celebrate the sale she’s running, Shari is sharing an exclusive excerpt and a fantastic giveaway.


What if your family had a big secret . . . a life changing secret. My dad, the bigwig CIA agent, was always on the run, whether he was being chased or doing the chasing. I missed him. Then my mom passed away, and my sister was murdered. I turned my solitude to strength because the alternative was too bleak.

But my luck seemed to turn: I met Tango. And while I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my twenty-two years, danger lurks around every corner and I simply can’t take the chance of it finding me. But his tattoos, his smell, his darkness, and his body— that marine has taken over my every thought. But, what if he too isn’t what I think? A ticking time bomb isn’t going to leave me much time to waver. Even the bravest person can be in need of a miracle.

Before she was gone, my mom warned me to know everyone and trust no one. But what was I supposed to do when I found out I am the one not to be trusted? Turns out, I was always the bait in this conspiracy.

In author Shari J. Ryan’s gripping novel, TAG, the canyons hold secrets, the waterfalls provide safety, and romance has a pesky way of showing up when you are sweaty and dirty and least expect it.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks


I've been seated among the dozens of other passengers for the past two hours, watching the gate times change a number of times before I see the plane actually arrive. Just as I'm powering my phone down, preparing to board, an awful stench burns my nose from a few inches away. A middle-aged man with greasy black hair and a thick lip-covering mustache who smells exactly like the inside of a port-a-potty has found a reason to sit directly beside me in a row of empty seats. When my eyes unfortunately meet his, he takes the opportunity to speak to me. "Heading to Boston?" he asks. I raise my eyebrows and force a tightlipped smile. I simply follow that with a nod and give him a no shit look. "I heard winter's coming early this year," he continues.

"Cool," I mumble with a sigh. I pull a magazine out of my bag and open it in front of my face, hoping to block my vision of the man's blackened-stained grin. But it's only seconds before I'm taken back when his finger sweeps down the bare skin of my collarbone.

"What does that mean?" he asks, pointing to my tattoo.

With a smooth motion, I lay my magazine down onto my lap and place my hand over his, giving him the false notion that I'm a gentle person. I take the opportunity to offer him a slight smile before I twist his forefinger backwards as far as it will go before the expectant snap. "I'm sorry," I say sweetly. "Did I tell you it was okay to touch me?" I pull down a little harder, and he smiles in response to the pain. But as I hold my hand there, I see the smile begin to fade.

"It's a free country, chicky," he sputters as his tongue knocks around between his bare gums.

"Why would you think it's okay to touch me?" I ask again, keeping my voice calm, yet stern. He licks his lips and looks me up and down, responding with only a look. "Do you go around touching girls half your age because you feel it's okay?"

He clears his throat and looks around to see who's watching or listening, but I don't move my eyes from his. "Why not?" he says, shrugging his bony shoulders. "Besides, you're definitely asking for it."

He thinks I'm asking for it? I'm wearing a fucking scoop neck, black long sleeve shirt, jeans, and combat boots. "The only reason it's okay, is because no one has ever probably told you no. But it occurs to me that after I snap your finger off your hand, you won't be able to touch people inappropriately anymore, will you?"

He hoots with laughter, dragging in attention he probably shouldn't want. "You think you could break my finger, little chicklette?"

I pull his finger a little further, and his smile grows. "Ow, stop. You're hurting me," he puckers his lips and winks at me.

"Oh, look, it's your right hand. You a righty?" I turn his hand over and see deep callouses bubbling on his palm. "Yes, you are. So, if I rip this thing off, you wouldn't miss it, right?" I turn his hand back over and glare into his beady eyes. He's questioning my words. He's unsure of my capabilities. And that's fine. "Sound okay to you? Or are you going to leave and stop touching people?" His smile fades and his eyes widen. I release his hand and offer him a smart-ass smile. "Oh, and the tattoo means death. It's a Maori Warrior symbol. They used to eat their enemies once they slaughtered them. Cool, huh?"

I see his Adam's apple struggle to move. He lifts his bag from the ground and nearly trips over his own feet, darting away.

I reopen my magazine to the page I was reading and refocus my attention on an article as I hear a soft chuckle coming from the other side of me. I turn to see who was enjoying the free entertainment and I'm faced with a man who looks to be either a wrestler or in the military--black shaven hair, stiff jaw and bulging muscles on every inch of his arms. His eyes are currently focused on a book, and I suppose he could have been laughing at that, rather than me. But as I question it, his large shamrock green eyes lift and look right at me. A slight grin tugs on the corner of his lips, and he winks so quickly I'm questioning whether it was me who might have blinked. Before I can react, he stands up and walks away.

I swallow hard and refocus my attention on the magazine once more. Stupid attractive man causing a moment of feebleness. I didn't react, though. He winked at me. I think. And I didn't make a snide comment or scowl. Weakness.

I let out a few short breaths, regaining my composure. He's gone. It's fine.

About Shari Ryan

ShariProfilePicBestselling author, Shari J. Ryan, hails from Central Massachusetts where she lives with her hubby and two lively little boys. Ryan has published the 3-book Schasm Series for Romantic Suspense/Thriller fans. TAG is her first book written solely for the Romantic Suspense audience, and she is hard at work on Red Nights, a standalone coming this spring. To learn more, visit her at:

Facebook | Twitter | TSU | Pinterest | Google+


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Want beautiful nails that don't chip and last two weeks?

I never, ever thought I would do this. I'm not a salesperson and I hate pushing product on people - funraisers in high-school and college were THE WORST. But I tried Jamberry nails last spring and fell in love with the product. My sales rep asked me if I wanted to join up as a consultant, but I was not even a little interested.

my jams. click to see more detail.

But over the past year, I've continued to love the product and people ask me all the time where they can get nails like mine. After I sent the sixth customer to my sales rep, I decided I might as well make a little money off being an apparent walking advertisement.

So now I'm a Jamberry Nails Independent Consultant. Why?

Because they last two or more weeks on my fingers despite the fact I play volleyball four days a week and go to the hot tub about that much, on top of doing dishes and gardening and all the normal day to day stuff. Because even a fashion-challenged person like my self with very little hand-eye coordination can apply them. Because I honestly feel more confident when my nails look nice. Because I can apply them while watching a tv show, then go about my business with NO drying time.

I love them that much. Trust me, the things I say about them now that I'm selling them are the exact same things I said about them when I was just a customer and didn't get anything out of it.

So if you're interested in checking them out, feel free to email me and request a free sample. You can browse all the designs (over 350) at:

If you'd like to host an online (Facebook) or in-person (within 100 miles of Orlando) party, please email me.

If you're interested in becoming a consultant yourself, getting paid to have beautiful nails, and make extra cash while sitting on your couch, please please email me.

Book Birthday: BLIND PASSION by Bonnie Dee

Bonnie Dee

Blind Passion (Wyatt Brothers, #1) by Bonnie Dee is an NA Romance, out now! 

Blind Passion_300dpi

Through personal darkness, two strangers find their way to each other.

Leah Schaeffer has come a long way since an accident took her sight. She’s finally ready for independence, but convincing her wealthy parents she’ll be safe on her own isn’t easy. The first night in her own place at last, she encounters her neighbor with the midnight velvet voice and her world shifts again.

Since finishing a military tour, J.D. Wyatt has struggled both financially and emotionally. When Leah’s parents hire him to act as her bodyguard, he seizes the opportunity. The catch—she can’t know she’s being followed. As he grows closer to the intriguing woman and begins to have feelings for her, the burden of this secret grows heavier.

Although Leah and J.D. have suffered different types of trauma, their mutual understanding of each other’s pain bonds them. But their relationship, dependent on absolute trust, is rooted in lies which will detonate like an IED when exposed.

Goodreads | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | iBooks


I was nearly asleep, the plot of the CSI show lost on me, when my doorbell rang. I literally jumped to my feet, my heart pumping so hard and fast it hurt. Who would be at my door tonight? If Bets had changed her mind and decided to come over, she’d have phoned first. Maybe my parents had forgotten something and come back for it.

I muted the TV, moved to the door, and leaned close. “Who’s there?”

“J.D. Wyatt.” He added to jog my memory, “From across the hall.”

“Yeah. Just a minute.” I hurried into my bedroom, found a cardigan, and wrapped it around me to hide my braless state, then returned to open the door.

“Hi. What’s up?” My voice sounded breathless, as if I’d sprinted and I was sweating a little.

“I brought you something.” A paper bag rattled, and he paused long enough for me to realize he’d held up whatever it was, forgetting I couldn’t see. “Ice cream. Or if you need something a little stronger after the big move, I’ve got whiskey too.”

I tried for clever. “How about whiskey floats?”

“Perfect.” He chuckled, and heat more potent than whiskey rippled through me.

“Come on in.”

I led the way into my apartment. For just a second, I doubted whether it was sensible to invite a complete stranger inside. Shouldn’t I get to know him for more than two minutes? But I shrugged off my mother’s voice whispering worry at me.

I gestured in the direction of the couch. “Sit down. I’ll get glasses.”

He stepped close and held the bag so my fingertips brushed paper.

I took the bag and went into my kitchenette where I shoved the ice cream in the freezer and opened the bottle of whiskey. I poured a couple of glasses and sipped mine to calm my nerves before returning to the living room. What did I look like? Was my hair a mess? My pj’s too scruffy? How was I going to check my appearance every day without Mom there to give me the thumbs-up? At least the aide, Gina, would be around for a month.

I calmed myself but clung to the glasses too tightly as I returned to the living room and held out one.

“Thanks.” J.D. took it from me.

From the direction of his voice, I needed to correct a few paces the other way in order to reach one of the chairs facing the couch. I navigated slowly, and when my shin bumped the chair, I found the front of it and sat—more awkward than I’d like in front of a guest, but not too bad.

My unexpected visitor clicked his glass against mine. “Cheers.”

The straight whiskey was far more potent than the microbrews I was used to. It burned my throat and baked my stomach, but a warm, relaxed sensation filled me soon after, and that was nice.

“Looks like you’re settling in,” J.D. said. I imagined what my apartment might look like, but for the first time, I was living someplace I hadn’t seen before my accident, so I couldn’t visualize it.

“My family helped put everything in order.” I searched for something else to add. “You mentioned you moved in recently too. Are you new to Chicago?”

“Yeah. I’m from Kentucky. Went into the army after high school. I just returned from a tour in Afghanistan and crashed at my brother’s place here for a while.”

Another military vet. There seemed to be a lot more of them these days.

“I’m juggling a couple of part-time jobs while I figure out what to do next,” J.D. added.

“Guess we’re both in transition. I’m all about figuring out my future too.”

“Change is hard.” His voice was slow and thoughtful. His Southern accent seemed more pronounced.

I loved the smooth, sexy drawl. Maybe it was the liquor percolating through me, sending tingly sex signals down between my legs, or maybe it was the hushed intimacy of the two of us sitting together in my apartment, but I was becoming aroused. Every time J.D. shifted or swallowed more of his drink, the quiet movements gave me a little shiver. Again a sense of familiarity tickled at the edge of my consciousness, as if I’d been here before. And I felt as if I was poised beside something big stirring and waking up.

“Change is hard,” I echoed. “Especially when it’s forced on you and you don’t know what direction to take next.”

I must sound pathetic. The alcohol loosened my tongue, making me talk too openly to a stranger.

“Sometimes it seems like I’m feeling my way blind—oh fuck, I did not just say that.” The horror in J.D.’s voice made me smile.

“It’s okay. Don’t sweat it. Honestly, it’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one flailing around in the dark.”

He laughed, and what a sweet, rich sound that was. Little petals of attraction unfurled inside me. Or, to be more honest, it was petals of pure, primal, gut-level lust. I slowed down on sipping the whisky before it made me do things I might regret.

About the Author

I began telling stories as a child. Whenever there was a sleepover, I was the designated ghost tale teller. I still have a story printed on yellow legal paper in second grade about a ghost, a witch and a talking cat.

I enjoy reading stories about people damaged by life who find healing with a like-minded soul. When I couldn't find enough books to suit my taste, I began to write them.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Book Birthday: HUNTED BY A JAGUAR by Felicy Heaton @felicityheaton #giveaway

Hunted by a Jaguar Blog Barrage

Hunted by a Jaguar, the fourth book in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Eternal Mates, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY at her website and sharing sneak peeks of the book.

Find out how to enter the Hunted by a Jaguar international giveaway (ends January 18th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website, where you can also download a 7 chapter sample of the novel.

If you haven’t had a chance to step into this passionate and action-packed world of dark elves, fae, demons, vampires, shifters and hunters, then you can take the leap with the first book in the series, Kissed by a Dark Prince, which is only 99c / 99p until January 15th as part of her fantastic Winter Warmers special deals.


A jaguar shifter with a dark secret, Kyter has spent his entire life running from his demons. When a tragedy takes him back to his pride’s village, he is set on a path of vengeance that will see him collide with the terrible ghosts of his past and a beautiful vision of his future.

Iolanthe deals in finding artefacts for discerning clients, but this time her client is one of the deadliest men in Hell and her mission has the highest stakes imaginable. Failure is not an option when your life is on the line, but things take a dangerous turn when she crosses paths with a handsome and mysterious male on the hunt for the same artefact—a male who declares she is his eternal mate.

Can Iolanthe resist Kyter’s wicked allure and find the artefact before he does? Can Kyter face his demons and win the heart of his fated female? Or will this deadly game of cat and mouse claim both of their lives?

iBooks | Kobo


Iolanthe despised fae towns. They were always crowded with disgusting creatures and smelled of vile things. She curled her lip at a male approaching her. He was hideous, the rolls of his stomach spilling out from beneath a brown leather vest three sizes too small for him. The repugnant bald-headed thing should have been lurking in the shadows of a damp cave rather than parading himself in public. Huge pustules dotted his meaty and hairy bare shoulders.

She grimaced as she quickly pinned her back against a wall to avoid brushing him. The last thing she needed was one of those blisters of pus bursting all over her. She would vomit and her mood would turn blacker than it already was.

The thing passed her without any contact and she moved on, using a series of side alleys to swiftly cover half of the town. She came out at the edge of the witches’ district and checked her crudely drawn map. The demon had done it in a hurry, and with only one hand.

The one she had left him.

The corner of the parchment was smeared with his black blood and it spotted the map in places. She hoped those splotches didn’t conceal anything vital. She would hate to have to go back and ask him to draw another one. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be happy to see her either.

She moved swiftly through the crowd, gracefully arching around a woman who wasn’t looking where she was going, and then diving down a shadowy alley when she spotted a dangerous male ahead of her. Her heart rushed against her chest and she edged towards the end of the wall, her back pressed against it.

She peeked around the corner and ducked back when she saw she had been right about the dark-haired male’s identity.

Lord Van der Garde of the Preux Chevaliers.

She slunk back into the shadows, hoping he wouldn’t spot her. She didn’t need a mercenary seeing her. Especially one as ruthless as this vampire. They had crossed paths, and swords, before over a mission and she had barely come away with her life. She had no doubts that he would want to know why she was in the fae town.

Just as she wanted to know what had brought him out of Hell.

Normally, he had an entourage of vampires with him. The male never travelled without companions who could do any menial work for him, such as dispatching a foe that the vampire felt was beneath him. Not today though. He was alone.

She risked another glance.

And he was as wary as she was.

He moved through the crowd, eyeing everyone, allowing none to go unscrutinised. Was he looking for someone? Or did he feel someone was looking for him? Either way, he was angry about something judging by his crimson irises and how thin the elliptical pupils were in their centres. Most vampires kept low profiles when travelling to fae towns. The witches despised them. Was he looking to stir trouble?

Iolanthe wasn’t in the mood to have him stirring trouble with her. She turned away from the main street, intending to use the alleys to reach her destination, and collided with a solid wall of muscle.

The male caught her arms before she could stumble backwards, righting her. “Sorry.”

“It is my fault for not looking where I am going.” Iolanthe lifted her gaze to his face.

His dark grey eyes held hers and spots of cerulean and gold broke through. She jerked her arms free of his grip and distanced herself. An incubus. She had hoped not to run into one of his kind.

He flashed her a winsome smile.

She tilted her chin up and swept her hand down in an arc between them. “I am not interested in whatever you are attempting to peddle my way.”

His smile faded and his eyes turned stormy, his handsome face becoming as cold and hard as ice. “I was being nice. I wasn’t trying to peddle you shit.”

He shoved his fingers through his short sandy hair, pushing the soft spikes back, and she caught sight of his fae markings that tracked up the underside of his arm to disappear beyond the rolled up sleeves of his dark striped shirt. They shimmered in hues of crimson and ash black, betraying his feelings to her. She had angered the male.

He advanced on her and she stood her ground, refusing to indulge her sudden desire to back off a step. He didn’t stop until he was so close she could feel his strength radiating from him, a dark power that warned her that he was a dangerous male and one she didn’t want as an enemy.

A hint of magic clung to his earthy scent. Had he come from the witches’ district? The smell seemed to run deeper than one he had picked up by passing through the area, almost as if it was branded on his skin, together with something that surprised her and definitely ran as deep as his blood.

The scent of a vampire.

She lifted her eyes to meet his grey ones, filled with a need to know why he smelled of both vampire and incubus.

He waved his left hand in her face and she couldn’t miss the brushed platinum band around his ring finger.

“I have a mate,” he snapped.

She hadn’t realised that incubi could mate or that they would want to devote themselves to a single female when they fed off sex. It wasn’t often she learned something new. She wanted to ask about it but she didn’t think he would give her the information she desired to assuage her curiosity. She appeared to have deeply offended him.

He pushed past her, muttering to himself. “Do all elves have bad attitudes?”

Iolanthe stared after him, unable to get her apology out before he disappeared into the crowd. She slowly raised her hands to her ears. They weren’t pointed, but he had recognised her as an elf. How? And what did he mean—did all elves have bad attitudes? How many had the male met?

There weren’t many elves in this world. Only ones who passed through. Had the incubus been to Hell?

She shook herself and pushed him and the vampire to the back of her mind. She was wasting time. A shiver went down her spine and she looked back over her shoulder, sure she had felt someone watching her. She shook that off too. People hadn’t stopped looking at her since she had entered the town. It was another of the reasons she hated these places. She preferred mountains and forests, and deserts. Places without people.

She preferred to be alone.

She checked her map and walked down the alleys, following them towards the demons’ district. When she reached the street marked on the map, she paused and studied the crowd, the medieval-looking buildings with their black oak beams intersecting white plaster panels, and all the other alleyways that branched off from the wider thoroughfare.

Her senses warned of several strong creatures in the vicinity but she ignored them. It was to be expected after all. Many of the fae towns harboured powerful demons. Unfortunately, none she had visited had been home to the one related to the artefact she needed to locate.

Apparently, he preferred to remain in the Devil’s domain in Hell, in service to his dark master.


He had a nasty reputation. Most of the demons she had asked about him had refused to tell her anything and had kicked her out. They feared him. That had set Iolanthe more on edge than she had already been.

What did her client want with Barafnir?

She refused to believe the tale that Fernandez had spun when she had met him. He had sat behind an enormous obsidian desk in his opulent yet grim office of his mansion in Hell, surrounded by mirrored walls intersected with black marble columns, a marked sign of his vanity together with his expensive tailored black suit.

And the two females who had sat on a black chaise longue in the corner, scantily dressed in sheer red baby-dolls and eyeing him as an addict would eye their next fix, occasionally breaking their silence to beg for his attention.

Fernandez had slid them a smug smile whenever they had, one that had promised he would allow them to pleasure him later, and then returned his focus to Iolanthe.

When she had questioned why he wanted the key, he had pinned her with cold blue eyes that had held a flicker of red around his pupils, his hands resting on the arms of his throne-like chair, and had told her that he wanted the artefact used to summon the demon for his mantelpiece.

That black stone mantelpiece had stood off to her left, a huge fire burning in the grate beneath, throwing heat across her side and providing the only light in the room. Several rare artefacts had already been on display across it, but there had been a space in the centre that had appeared as if it had been waiting for the one he desired her to find.

Iolanthe still didn’t believe he merely wanted the key for his collection.

She was no fool.

He wanted dominion over Barafnir.

Normally, Iolanthe would have refused such a quest, but Fernandez had been very persuasive, making her an offer she couldn’t turn down.

Satisfied that the coast was clear, she slipped from the alleyway and followed the flow of people down the road to her right, towards a small white-panelled building with a haphazard crooked dark tiled roof. She exited the crowd outside the green painted door framed by black oak beams and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

It swung open.

Iolanthe ducked into the dark room, having to remain hunched over to avoid banging her head on the low ceiling. Her eyes swiftly adjusted to the muted light to reveal a cramped space with a fireplace and two small threadbare green armchairs to her left, and a rickety wooden staircase that led up into the roof on her right. Her gaze sought the demon she had come here to speak with and widened when he stepped around her.

He was nothing like she had expected.

All of the demons she had met in her lifetime had been strong males, taller than she was and broadly built, wearing an almost human appearance with the exception of their horns and the occasional pair of cloven feet.

This one was barely half her height and blue all over. Black horns flared forwards from above his pointed ears, reminding her of a bull, and eerie yellow eyes ran over her from her boots upwards. She raised an eyebrow when his gaze lingered on her breasts.

He glanced up at her face and then down at his shoes, and shuffled off towards the armchairs. His height explained why he lived in a building with such a low ceiling and why the chairs were far smaller than the ones demons normally had in their places of business. They were smaller than the ones mortals used in their homes. She wasn’t sure how anyone other than a child or the demon could fit on them.

She would say one thing about the tiny demon though. He dressed far more impeccably than the other demons she had met, wearing a fine pair of black tailored trousers with his waistcoat and shirt.

“Your reputation precedes you.” He pulled himself up onto one of the armchairs and eyed the other one.

Iolanthe was certain she wouldn’t fit in it but she did her best, unwilling to appear rude to her kind host. She mentally commanded the sword on her back to disappear, using her teleportation abilities to send it back to her bolthole. She didn’t like being without the comforting weight of it, but she would be safe now that she was off the streets.

She squatted on the seat and had to tense her thighs to stop herself from sinking into it completely. They flexed hard beneath her black trousers, pulling the material tight. If the chair had possessed springs once, it didn’t have them anymore.

The demon’s yellow gaze darkened and narrowed. “I am certain that my friend would have been kind enough to tell you my location without you resorting to ambushing him and chopping his hand off.”

She wasn’t so certain.

“I do not trust demons in the Devil’s service. It was easier to convince him to talk rather than ask him nicely and wait to see whether he would help or would attempt to cut my heart out of my chest and feast on it.”

The latter had happened too many times to count. She had learned to maim first, ask questions later with demons. They had a strange thing about eating hearts.

“You do not like demons in the Devil’s service, and yet you are looking for an artefact belonging to one?”

She nodded. “It is not for me. I am just the middle-woman. There is a party interested in the artefact and I agreed to find it for them.”

“And who would your client be?” The small blue demon leaned back in his armchair and eyed her with a shrewd gaze, one that she didn’t like.

He could attempt to wheedle information out of her all he liked. He wasn’t going to get any. She didn’t talk about her business with anyone and she definitely wasn’t going to discuss it this time.

Iolanthe smiled sweetly. “I am afraid I cannot discuss such things. Now, if you would not mind. I require the location of an artefact and was told you could help me. Can you help me or not?”

“And what artefact might that be?” He smiled right back at her and she had the feeling it would fall right off his face when he discovered who the artefact belonged to and would refuse to help her, just as all the other demons had.

“I must find the key to Barafnir. My client desires it.”

His smile faded. “Barafnir?”

She nodded. He shifted on his seat and eyed the door. He was going to kick her out. At least it wouldn’t be as humiliating as all the other times it had happened. She didn’t think he was strong enough to pick her up and physically throw her out of his door.

The demon shook his head.

Her heart sank.

“I only have information about it,” he said and she blinked. He was going to help her? He shuffled to the edge of his seat and leaned towards her, and she mirrored him, getting as close to him as she could bear considering the foul odour of his breath. “I should warn you to let this particular job go. Barafnir doesn’t like people meddling in his affairs and has taken great pains to ensure the method of summoning him remains hidden.”

She had come to understand that after she had asked the first forty demons for information and had been told to get out, had been thrown out, or had been told to give up her quest.

“I cannot,” she whispered and searched his yellow eyes, seeking a sliver of compassion in them. “You must tell me what you know. I must have that artefact. I have promised delivery of it in eleven days.”

His expression turned grave and he had the audacity to touch her knee. Iolanthe barely stopped herself from curling her lip. He patted her, as one would a child, and she regretted desiring compassion from a demon. It felt more like patronisation.

“You must make haste then.” He thankfully took his hand back just as she began to consider chopping it off, sparing her bloodying her blade.

“To where?”

He stared deep into her eyes and if she had thought they were past all the riddles and games demons loved so dearly, she had been mistaken.

“Look for knowledge in the shadow of a volcano.”

Iolanthe smiled, much to the demon’s obvious irritation as he huffed.

That was an easy one for her.

She stood, narrowly avoiding banging her head on the low wooden ceiling by quickly stooping, and teleported her blade back to her. She also transported a small pouch of gold coins and held it out to the demon.

“Thank you.” Iolanthe bowed.

The demon nodded and took the coins.

She let herself out, shutting the painted wooden door behind her, and hesitated as a shiver went down her spine again and the sensation that she was being watched returned. She looked around her at the street. No one was looking her way. She frowned, sure she hadn’t been mistaken this time. Someone was stalking her and it wasn’t her usual escort.

She scanned the crowd one last time before she slipped into the flow.

Knowledge in the shadow of a volcano.

Green-purple light flashed over her body and she disappeared.

Teleporting to a familiar location in what was now known as Italy.

Books in the Eternal Mates paranormal romance series: Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince | Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King | Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince | Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar

Book 5: Craved by an Alpha – Coming January 27th 2015 | Book 6: Bitten by a Hellcat – Coming February 17th 2015 | Book 7: Taken by a Dragon – Coming March 10th 2015

About the Author

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Eternal Mates series.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places: | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | GoodReads | Amazon

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Exclusive Short Story: "Dinner with Will" by Katee Robert @katee_robert

When Penelope loses a bet and becomes Will’s submissive for seven days, she has no idea she’s about to submit her heart as well.

Betting on Fate is the fourth novel in the Serve series containing the first Brazen Books ménage scene, and the second written by Katee Robert. Fans of Tessa Bailey’s Exposed by Fate or Diane Alberts’ Falling for the Groomsman will love this sexy, erotic romance by NYT Bestselling Author Katee Robert!

The man she should want, or the man she craves…

This time, all bets are off...

Penelope Carson loves to steal clients from Will Reaver. Yet something in her business nemesis's icy blue eyes makes Penelope...nervous. It certainly doesn't help that the man is the living embodiment of a Norse god. A controlled, powerful Norse god. Which she really should have remembered before she made a bet with him—because losing means becoming Will's personal submissive for a week.

There's nothing Will would like more than to have Penelope kneeling before him in complicit submission, her fiery dark eyes inviting him in. Challenging him. But their bet takes Will and Penelope deeper than either of them have ever been. Where control is an illusion, and boundaries are pushed aside. And where hearts become the stakes in a game that neither Dominant nor submissive can win…

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

See where it all began with Tessa Bailey's Owned by Fate and Exposed by Fate, plus Katee’s first installment, Mistaken by Fate.

"Dinner with Will" - Part Two

Read the exclusive short story, "Dinner with Will", that shows what happens to Ridley and Will after Mistaken by Fate.

From Katee: At the end of MISTAKEN BY FATE, Ridley and Garrett had decided that they wanted to be together (yay!), but I was really excited to be able to show the how of their being together. Relationships, even fictional ones, aren’t without their ups and downs, and his absences are hard on both of them. But it’s just like Garrett to do something thoughtful like this when he can’t be there for her. Enjoy!

She looked at her nearly empty kitchen and did her damnedest to ignore the small smidgen of guilt that wanted to rise. “I’ve been busy. It looks like that store is going to go through with the contract, after all, so I’ll have to hire at least one other person—probably two—before the month is out.”

“That’s great—even if it answers my question.” He laughed softly. “I kind of figured, though. Do me a favor?”

She sighed, though a smile tugged at the edges of her lips. She should have known this was coming. Ever since he’d proposed, he’d taken it into his gorgeous head that she needed someone to drop in from time to time when he couldn’t be there to make sure she was feeding herself properly and taking time for fun things. Every time she pointed out that she’d done a pretty damn good job of taking care of herself before they got together, he just smiled and said it was his privilege to chip in now.

She couldn’t really argue with that—she didn’t really want to.

But it also meant that he had one of his check-ins scheduled tonight. “So who are you sending? You know last time your Uncle Rodger showed up with the makings for spaghetti and the pots and pans to cook it in? I have pots and pans, Garrett. I’m not a completely lost cause.” But her protest was halfhearted at best. She’d existed on a steady diet of takeout the last week, so the idea of a home-cooked meal made her mouth water.

“It made his week to do it and you know it.” Noise sounded in the background. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be home in five days. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.” She bit back everything else she wanted to say. Come home safe to me. He wouldn’t take any risks, but even being out there was a risk. She was still working on making her peace with that, but she wasn’t about to bring it up now, when it could distract him. And, anyways, he knew. Garrett always seemed to know. That was the other reason for these check-ins with his family. They kept her distracted and were more comforting than anything else could be. After all, they’d been dealing with his being off on dangerous missions for years.

Read the rest of the story here:
Part 1 - Jan 5th - Literary Escapism
Part 2 - Jan 6th - Aria Kane
Part 3 - Jan 7th - Fresh Fiction
Part 4 - Jan 8th - Fiction Vixen
Part 5 - Jan 9th - TBA

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. She found romance novels at age twelve and it changed her life. When not writing sexy contemporary and speculative fiction romance novels, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her wee ones, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google + | GoodReads | Instagram | Tumblr | Youtube


Throughout the tour, Katee is giving away a $25 giftcard for Amazon or Barnes & Noble (winners choice) + a swag pack.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Cover Reveal: LOOK AFTER ME by Elena Matthews @authorelenamatt

Look After Me (Look After You #2) by Elena Matthews is out February 24th!

 photo LookAfterme_zps4cbf7433.jpg

The moment Sebastian Gilbert watches his fiancée declare her undying love to another man, his entire life changes.


Unable to cope with the loss of his fiancée, his job … his life, he turns to the one thing that will help ease the pain.


Seven long months later…

Sebastian has checked out of rehab, but after three months locked behind those doors, away from the outside world, he’s struggling to adapt to his new life. His thoughts are clouded with anger … bitterness…


When he reaches out to his drug counselor from rehab, his one and only lifeline, he begins to find hope.

Addison Scott is sweet, smart, and understands him in a way that no one else does. As she helps Sebastian rebuild his life, their friendship grows.

But lines become blurred…

Sebastian’s broken heart is slowly mending, but will letting Addison in shatter it once more?

Add To Goodreads

 photo Teaser2_zpsda8f5e99.jpg

About The Author

Receptionist by day, author by night, Elena Matthews is from Manchester, United Kingdom, the home of Manchester United, Media city and of course, Coronation Street. When Elena isn’t writing, she can be found with her nose in a book or watching guilty pleasures such as Gossip Girl, developing a rather unusual liking to Chuck Bass. And when she isn’t doing any of those things, you can often find her on Facebook, obsessing over Kellan Kyle, book boyfriend extraordinaire

Elena spent three years of her life at Salford University studying media production, to decide she no longer wanted to pursue a career in the media. Instead, it took her another two and half years to realise her calling. Writing. Now she lives and breathes her writing. She even had to tell her colleagues at work whenever she is found daydreaming at her desk, it’s because she is conversing with her characters.



a Rafflecopter giveaway