09 May 2017

Azrael by M.T. Ellis Book Tour!


Free this week!

Azrael by M.T. Ellis


Azrael

by M.T. Ellis

May 9, 2017 Book Blast


Book Details:

Genre: Crime, Thriller
Published by: Self-Published
Publication Date: April 30th 2017 
Number of Pages: 345
ISBN: 0648043800 (ISBN13: 9780648043805)
Purchase Links: Goodreads 

Synopsis:

Emily thought her ordeal was over after she escaped a brutal kidnapping. She’s wrong. He’s coming for her again.

The body Detective Rose is looking at bears a striking resemblance to Emily, a woman who survived a horrific, sexually motivated abduction five years ago. Her fear is confirmed when Emily goes missing again. When another woman, Grace, is abducted, Detective Rose finds herself doubting the instincts that tell her the disappearance is the result of intimate partner violence. She connects the cases and recruits Grace’s partner, Ethan, to help in the search. Together they must find Grace and Emily before it’s too late.
Warning: Excerpt contains adult language:
Prologue
“I think I must have scared the shit out of her,” Azrael joked to himself as he opened the van door and smelt the stench coming from the dark brown stain on the back of the girl’s jeans. He laughed, even though he couldn’t be sure if she had defecated from fear or because she lost control of her bowels from his accidental overuse of the stun gun. He’d only needed to hit the woman for a second or two to disable her, but his nerves got the better of him, and he kept shocking her for a good thirty seconds, just to be sure. He could smell burning flesh as he picked up the woman and dumped her in the van. This was his first abduction, and so far the plan was working.
Azrael looked at his victim lying face down on the floor of his white Toyota HiAce. Conveniently, the commercial van had no back seats, and all of the windows were painted white when it was manufactured. As long as the police didn’t pull him over, and she didn’t wake up, no one would be able to see the sprawled petite twenty-something brunette. He wondered whether, when he bought this an five years ago, he had subconsciously known he would end up using it for this type of adventure.
He had picked up the girl from the university grounds around the corner from his house. It was luck, really. He’d been driving past and saw the woman walking by herself, and since there was no one around, Azrael went in for the kill, so to speak.
There had been no traffic nearby when he drove past the woman the first time, or when he doubled back. He stopped and asked her for directions. She leaned into the window to answer him, and a short squeak came out of her mouth as she was hit on the side of the neck with the stun gun. The woman silently convulsed and then dropped to the ground, whimpering in the fetal position and twitching occasionally. Azrael whistled as he casually got out, walked around, and opened the side door. “In you go, love,” he said as he picked her up and dumped her onto the floor of the van.
He drove around town, looking for a place to take her. He couldn’t take her to his one-bedroom apartment. If the neighbours didn’t see him carry her in, they’d certainly notice when he took her out again. He’d have to cut her up so she’d fit in the wheelie bin outside, but the bins were only collected on Mondays, and since it was Tuesday she’d have to sit around for a week. At the very least, he was sure the seventy-year-old woman who lived in the apartment next to him would be nosey enough to rummage through garbage to find out where an offensive smell was coming from.
Azrael decided to take his victim out to The Common, thousands of acres of City Council-owned bushland about an hour from his apartment. Burnt-out cars were regularly found dumped there. Kids often stole them to go bush-bashing, setting them on fire when they were done. By the time he got there it was nearly 7:00 p.m. Luckily it was spring, so the weather was warm enough for him to wear shorts, a t-shirt, and dirty old Converse sneakers. Springtime also meant the sun went down at about six, so it was dark by the time he got there. The moon was full, so Azrael had no problems seeing where he was going when he turned his lights off. As he drove through the bushland he was happy to note there were no cars on fire tonight. This meant there would be no unexpected interruptions from the local fire brigade.
He settled on a location a few kilometres into the property, where he figured he’d be most hidden. He shut off the van and listened. All he could hear were cicadas clicking outside his window and some muffled whimpers from the back of the van. Ooh, she’s awake, Azrael thought excitedly. He stepped out of the van and looked back towards the clearing he had just driven through. The van was concealed well enough by the dense scrub. He leaned back into the driver’s door to grab the map from the dash and to turn on the light above the rear-view mirror. We are here, he thought as he pointed at the middle of the map. If we go by foot into the bush a few hundred metres, no one will find her.
Azrael walked around the front of the van to the passenger door and pulled out a small backpack that was
stuffed underneath the seat. He had been planning this for weeks and had hidden the bag, which contained a hunting knife, zip ties, blue latex gloves, and various other items he might need on his adventure. He took out three zip ties and looped them together to make a chain. He would put an outer ring around each of his victim’s wrists and tighten them to make handcuffs. Azrael put on the latex gloves and zipped up the backpack then shut the driver’s door and pulled the bag onto his back.
As he opened the side door, the woman started to stir. He quickly dragged her towards him by the leg and turned her over onto her stomach. He pulled both of her arms behind her as he attached the makeshift handcuffs.
“Let go of me,” the woman shrieked once she realised what was happening.
“You didn’t have to shit yourself, madam,” he said in his husky voice. “I’m not that scary.”
“W-who, who are you?” she stammered. “What do you want from me?”
“Never mind who I am. You and I are going to have some fun out here tonight,” he said playfully as he dragged the woman by her upper arm out of the van and onto the ground. She landed with a thud. She screamed as he yanked her up onto her feet. “Stand up and start walking. Don’t bother screaming — no one can hear you.”
About ten minutes later, Azrael had pushed her, kicking and screaming, farther into the bushes. Once they had reached a suitable location, he kicked the woman’s feet out from underneath her. She crumpled in a heap on the ground and sobbed, “Please don’t hurt me.” He unhooked one arm of his backpack, twisted the bag around in front of him, and took out the hunting knife. The blade was about thirty centimetres long, and when the woman saw the moonlight gleaming on it, she lost it and started shrieking hysterically.
Azrael became impatient with her screaming and yelled, “Shut up,” before kicking her in the face. The woman stopped screaming, and he could see her right eye already starting to swell. She lay with tears silently streaming down her face. He slid the backpack off his arm and dumped it onto the ground beside her, then bent down and pushed the girl onto her back, crushing her hands, which were still bound behind her. He took the knife and held it to the girl’s throat, putting just enough pressure on it to make a small cut. “Are you going to behave yourself?” he asked as he watched blood trickle in a thin red line just below her ear.
When she didn’t answer, Azrael knelt down beside her and slowly used the knife to cut her white singlet. She shivered as he cut each strap just above her shoulder and again as he made a single long slash down the right side of the singlet. He pulled the top out from underneath her, scrunched it up, and put it to his nose. He breathed in the scent of her berry body wash and became aroused. He crawled over her until he was straddling her upper thighs. He was still holding the knife in his right hand but didn’t have any trouble using it to steady himself as he put his hands down on the ground on either side of her shoulders to keep his balance. He leaned in to rub his face on her chest and let his lips rest between her breasts. She recoiled from his touch, and he could feel the friction from his five o’clock shadow scratching at her skin like razors. Suddenly, he turned his head to the right a little and bit down on her breast, just above where her lacy white bra was covering her nipple. He twisted his head and tore away a small chunk of flesh. She let out a blood-curdling scream and started to buck fiercely beneath him.
He sat up and looked down at the bite-sized hole in the woman’s breast. He followed the blood trail down her stomach, onto his groin, and up the front of his shirt. He started to chew on the chunk of tissue, savouring the taste. Just as he moved his knife hand towards his face, so he could wipe away the blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand, the girl bucked her hips up and knocked him off sideways. She raised her right leg up to her chest and kicked him in the stomach, which forced him off her. The shock of the woman’s defence made Azrael gasp. It rammed the piece of flesh he had bitten off towards the back of his throat, and he started to choke.
He dropped the knife, lay on his side, and clutched at his neck. The woman used this second of freedom to clamber to her feet and run away through the trees. By the time she had taken her first step, Azrael had coughed hard enough to dislodge the flesh from his throat and spat it onto the ground. He grunted as he got to his feet and gave chase.
*
He’s coming. Emily found it impossible to avoid branches whipping her in the face as she ran with her hands still cable-tied behind her. She had only been running for a few seconds before she could hear her attacker’s breaths behind her. Run! He can’t catch you, she thought urgently. Fear gripped her, and she moved faster than she had ever run before. There was a sharp sting in her wrists as he grabbed the centre of the zip-tie chain that was holding her arms together and yanked her backwards. She was pulled into the air, and just as she thought her shoulders would pop out of their sockets, the middle zip tie snapped. Her arms flew out to her sides just in time for her to land with a thump on her back. Her attacker tripped, fell forward on top of her, and knocked the wind out of her. They both lay for a second, his head near her feet, gasping for breath.
“Gotcha, you little bitch,” he said breathlessly.
His weight crushed the air out of her lungs. Pain seared through her limbs, one by one, as he pressed down on them while he turned his body around until he straddled her again. Then his strong hands were on her throat. She could feel his wild eyes burn into her soul as he started to squeeze the life out of her. She coughed and choked as she struggled underneath him. Emily scratched desperately at his hands. He wouldn’t let go. She reached out in search of anything that could help her and found a rock the size of her hand. She stretched out her arm and tried to grab it with her fingertips but couldn’t get it into her grasp. She had just started to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen from the short, quick breaths she took when her attacker readjusted his grip. Come on, you can’t die out here. Not like this, she thought as she tried once more to pick up the rock.
Emily stretched her whole body as far as it could go and rolled the rock towards herself with her fingertips. She eventually got it close enough to pick up. She grabbed the rock in her right hand and beat him repeatedly in the temple. She felt her attacker’s warm blood trickle down her arm as he lost consciousness. His full weight fell on top of her as she strained to get out from underneath him. Emily grunted as she pushed him off her and slowly got to her feet. She stood there for a few seconds, bent over with her hands resting on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. In between gasps, she saw her attacker start to stir. Emily stood up immediately and started to run through the dark bushes.
*
Azrael woke to a pounding inside his head. The left side of his face felt hot and swollen. When he touched his temple, he could feel the warm blood oozing through his gloved fingers. Shit, he thought as he started to get up.
Where’d the little bitch get to? He was dizzy as he got to his feet and had to stand still for nearly a minute to get his bearings. Once the nausea subsided, he looked around in the moonlight to find the girl’s trail. He noticed some flattened and broken branches on a bush in front of him and figured she must have damaged them as she took off. He started to follow the trail.
*
Emily wandered hysterically. She ran into bushes and tripped over roots for what seemed like hours. She eventually collapsed, exhausted; she couldn’t stop sobbing. Once on the ground, she thought, Slow, deep breaths. Calm down, he can’t find you. You are going to be okay. She looked around for a bush or a fallen tree to hide behind until daylight, when she hoped she’d be able to find her way out of the maze of trees and scrub.
She crawled on her hands and knees for another ten minutes and then unexpectedly heard something in the distance. Her heart fluttered as she tried to keep down the rising panic. She kept low to the ground as she crept slowly towards the noises and hid behind a cluster of bushes.
While keeping concealed, she poked her head out from behind a bush and listened intently. She heard laughter and the sound of empty beer cans clinking as they were thrown to the ground. Her stomach lurched as she saw a group of teenagers in the shadows. She crept over to some bushes nearer to them to get a better look. There must be six of them, four boys and two girls, standing around an old red V8 Commodore. Judging by the smashed rear quarter glass, it was stolen. She peeked through the scrub and saw two more later model Commodores sitting back a few hundred metres. Suddenly a fireball erupted around the stolen car, and they all started running towards the getaway cars. Shit, they’re leaving! I have to get their attention, she thought as she ran out of the bushes, directly towards the group. “Help me!” she shrieked. “Help me, I’ve been abducted, let me come with you!”
She was a horrid sight: blood poured from cuts to her face, neck, and chest. Bruises had formed on her eye, cheek, and wrists. She was wearing only her stained jeans and bra, with no shoes, and was covered in dirt and clotting blood. Her wrists still had zip ties around them, and her hair was full of leaves and clumps of dirt. The teenagers didn’t hear her, and by the time she had gotten to the burning car, they were in their getaway cars with the engines running. She ran towards the closest Commodore. The driver had just turned on its headlights, and it started to turn away from the burning car.
Suddenly, the Commodore’s headlights swept back in her direction. The car stopped as if it was trying to figure out whether what it was seeing was real. It slowly started moving towards her. The car stopped about ten metres away, and a blonde guy with a southern cross tattoo down one leg got out of the passenger side and came over to her. “Are you okay? Who are you?” the boy asked. He could not have been more than seventeen.
“Please take me with you, he’s coming!” Emily screamed as she limped towards him. “Please.”
The boy looked frightened as he stared wildly around. He focused back on her and said, “Quick, get in the car!”
*
“Fuck!” Azrael yelled. Exhausted from running, he stopped and gathered his wits. I’m never going to find her, he thought after searching for what seemed like an eternity. He looked down at the torn and bloodied latex gloves on his hands and thought, Fuck this shit, I’m out of here. He turned around and headed back towards the van.
As Azrael got to the van, he saw an orange glow from the top of some trees a few kilometres away. Great, the Firies will be here soon. Just what I need. About twenty minutes later, as he pulled onto the main road after leaving the gates, Azrael saw three fire trucks with sirens and lights blaring turn off into The Common.
Excerpt from Azrael by M.T. Ellis. Copyright © 2017 by M.T. Ellis. Reproduced with permission from M.T. Ellis. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

M.T. Ellis
M.T. Ellis is a Brisbane-based author. She got kicked out of high school in year 11 for non-attendance. She then went on to attempt a Business Management degree at University, but dropped out half-way through. Despite these failures, she managed to get a job and is currently driving boats for a living.
Her dogs, Opal and Zeus, occupy a lot of her time. She would write books about their adventures if she thought people were even half as interested in them as she is.
M.T. Ellis is currently working on the second novel in her Detective Allira Rose series.

Catch Up With Our Author On:
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Don't Wake Me Up By: M.E. Rhines Sale Blitz and Giveaway!

  Title: Don't Wake Me Up
By: M.E. Rhines
Publication Date: November 03, 2016
Genre: YA PNR
#dontwakemeupsale
When the chaos of school, her over-reactive mother, and her abusive boyfriend gets to be too much, sixteen-year-old Colleen turns to astral projection to escape it all. In the sanctuary of the astral plane, she mingles with the lost souls of the departed. They all need help to move on to the Summerland, and Colleen never turns down a spirit in need. Until she meets Daemon. With just a glance, Daemon makes her forget all the turmoil back home. The calm is welcome and addictive, but Colleen knows the peace he offers will leave with him once he crosses over, forcing her to make a desperate decision: sever her ties to her physical body, or sabotage his salvation.
ONLY $0.99 FOR A LIMITED TIME
ME Rhines a southwest Florida native currently living in North Port with her two beautiful children and a third, much larger child whom she affectionately calls husband. She writes young adult paranormal romance to feed her belief that fairy tales are real and nonsense is necessary. She also writes adult romances under her edgier alter-ego, Mary Bernsen

The Art of Three by Erin McRae & Racheline Maltese Book Tour and Giveaway!


The Art of Three
by Erin McRae & Racheline Maltese
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Menage (non-erotic)
Jamie Conway has a charmed life. At 24, he's relocated from Dublin to London to star in his first feature film. Unfortunately, he also has one very big problem: He has a huge crush on his happily married costar.
British heartthrob to middle-aged women everywhere, Callum Griffith-Davies should have more sense than to flirt with his new-to-the-business colleague, but good judgement isn't one of the qualities for which he's known.
Nerea Espinosa de Los Monteros Nessim has better things to do than fret about her husband's newest conquest. She’s busy planning her daughter's wedding at the family's farmhouse in rural Spain. Besides, she and Callum have been married and polyamorous for almost 30 years; she's content to let him make his own bad choices.
But when Nerea flies to London after her artwork is selected for a high-profile museum show, she falls for Jamie too. Soon Callum, Jamie, and Nerea have bigger problems, and surprises, than international logistics. From ex-lovers and nosy neighbors to adult children with dramas of their own, The Art of Three is a contemporary romance that celebrates families, and farce, in all shapes and sizes.

Erin McRae is a queer writer based in New York and Washington, DC. She is a researcher, statistician, and novelist.
She has a bachelor’s degree in International Relations from the University of Toronto (Toronto, Canada) and a master’s degree in International Affairs from American University (Washington, DC).
Together with Racheline Maltese she founded Avian30, a literary collective dedicated to stories with magical and sexual realism. She is a hybrid author. She and Racheline Maltese have self-published titles (A Queen From the North, 2017; The Art of Three, 2017, and the Love in Los Angeles series, which was originally published by Torquere Press in 2014 and is being re-released in 2017). They have also published work with Cleis Press (Best Gay Romance, 2015), Dreamspinner (The Love’s Labours series, 2015), Supposed Crimes (Young Love Old Hearts, 2015).
She lives with her spouse and their two cats. 


Racheline Maltese can fly a plane, sail a boat, and ride a horse, but has no idea how to drive a car. With Erin McRae she writes romance about fame and public life. She is also a producer and writer on Tremontaine, Serial Box Publishing's adventure of manners, swordplay, and chocolate that's a prequel to Ellen Kushner's gay lit classic, Swordspoint.
Racheline's training includes a journalism degree from The George Washington University, as well as acting and directing coursework at the Atlantic Theater Company Acting School (New York City) and the National Institute of Dramatic Art (Sydney, Australia).
Her fiction, non-fiction and poetry has appeared in numerous outlets, and she is a regular speaker on pop-culture topics at fan and academic conferences. Racheline also voiced Desire and Delirium in a benefit performance of Neil Gaiman's The Sandman for the CBLDF.









Becoming Bonnie by Jenni L. Walsh Release Day Blitz and Giveaway!

Tor/Forge (Macmillan) | May 9, 2017 
Hardcover: 9780765390189
e-Book: 9780765390202
Unabridged CD: 9781427289018
Unabridged Digital Audio: 9781427289025

Publisher's Website

Book Summary

From debut historical novelist Jenni L. Walsh comes the untold story of how wholesome Bonnelyn Parker became half of the infamous Bonnie and Clyde duo.

The summer of 1927 might be the height of the Roaring Twenties, but Bonnelyn Parker is more likely to belt out a church hymn than sling drinks at an illicit juice joint. She’s a sharp girl with plans to overcome her family's poverty, provide for herself, and maybe someday marry her boyfriend, Roy Thornton. But when Roy springs a proposal on her and financial woes jeopardize her ambitions, Bonnelyn finds salvation in an unlikely place: Dallas's newest speakeasy, Doc's.

Living the life of a moll at night, Bonnie remains a wholesome girl by day, engaged to Roy, attending school and working toward a steady future. When Roy discovers her secret life, and embraces it—perhaps too much, especially when it comes to booze and gambling—Bonnie tries to make the pieces fit. Maybe she can have it all: the American Dream, the husband, and the intoxicating allure of jazz music. What she doesn't know is that her life—like her country—is headed for a crash.

She’s about to meet Clyde Barrow.

Few details are known about Bonnie's life prior to meeting her infamous partner. In Becoming Bonnie, Jenni L. Walsh shows a young woman promised the American dream and given the Great Depression, and offers a compelling account of why she fell so hard for a convicted felon—and turned to crime herself.


Praise for Becoming Bonnie

"A compelling account of a nation and a life in disarray--readers will feel for Bonnelyn as she finds herself scrabbling for survival in a world turned upside down." - Lauren Willig, New York Times bestselling author

"Jenni L. Walsh delivers an intriguing insight into the life of one half of the infamous duo, Bonnie and Clyde." - Hazel Gaynor, New York Times bestselling author

"A dazzling and compulsively-readable adventure of self-discovery, with a voice both singular and irresistible. I dare you not to fall in love with Bonnie, and her intoxicating, wholly immersive world." - Lee Kelly, author of A Criminal Magic 


Buy Links
Amazon
Barnes & NobleBAM!


Author Bio

Jenni L. Walsh spent her early years chasing around cats, dogs, and chickens in Philadelphia's countryside, before dividing time between a soccer field and a classroom at Villanova University. She put her marketing degree to good use as an advertising copywriter, zip-code hopping with her husband to DC, NYC, NJ, and not surprisingly, back to Philly. There, Jenni's passion for words continued, adding author to her resume. She now balances her laptop with a kid on each hip, and a four-legged child at her feet.

For the mamas, Becoming Bonnie is her debut novel that tells the untold story of how church-going Bonnelyn Parker becomes half of the infamous Bonnie and Clyde duo during the 1920s.

For the kiddos, the Brave Like Me series is her middle grade debut that features true stories from heroic women who, at a young age, accomplished daring feats of perseverance and bravery.


Website: www.jennilwalsh.com
Twitter: www.twitter.com/jennilwalsh
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jenni.l.walsh
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/jennilwalsh
Amazon: www.
amazon.com/author/jennilwalsh


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Soft Pleasure by Dany Rae Miller Book Blitz!


Soft Pleasure
Dany Rae Miller
(Wolven Moon #4)
Publication date: May 3rd 2017
Genres: Adult, Paranormal

The truth can either ruin you or set you free.
SOPHIA SOFT
Freaks like me can’t do relationships, not when there are huge parts of yourself you can’t let anyone see. No matter how strong the pull between us, no matter that he sets my body on fire with his touch, I can’t have Gunnar Bodolf. But he knows things about me and my past – things I’m desperate to know, too.

GUNNAR BODOLF
The chemistry between us is exquisite. Powerful. Primitive. Sophia Soft wants me as much as I want her. I came back to Aspen a lone wolf with one mission, to connect the hereditary witch with her forgotten power. Now wild fantasies have raised another tantalizing desire, get her into my bed and make her mine.

Truth. Power. Lust. Not necessarily in that order.
EXCERPT:
While I set out containers of food, Sophia goes off somewhere in her mind. I wonder what she sees. Full-fledged memories, or glimpses of her childhood here? Not that horrific night. That much I can tell by her expression.
I’ve only set foot on this property one other time — the night the Softs were massacred. I pour myself a large portion of wine as well and allow buried memories to surface.
Barely a teenager at thirteen, my parents allowed me to travel from Sweden to visit my Colorado relatives on my own. That horrible night, all able-bodied adult wolves were in Glenwood Springs, responding to intelligence from the Granite pack that hunters would converge there. I wanted to go, too. But, no. I was relegated to help a babysitter look after an eight-year-old Carine.
The hunters did indeed show up in Glenwood. However, another group swiftly descended on Aspen — on the Softs, specifically.
Was it a coincidence? I never believed that. It had to have been a concerted plan to lure wolves away from Aspen and leave the eminent family unprotected.
I look over at Sophia. Her wine glass is almost empty.
“More?” I hold the bottle up, ready to pour.
She shakes her head no.
“You’re wondering why I brought you here.” My candor brings her gaze to mine.
Curiosity and apprehension are among the emotions that flit across her expression. Distrust emerges and stays.
Eyes narrowed, she looks away from me. “That’s just one question I have.”
“This is where you must be to connect to the old crone and to your legacy.” I let the rest hang. She’s smart. She’ll connect the dots she already has in her sights and the rest as they appear before her.
“You knew about my connection to this place when we looked at that property.” She points across the water.
I nod and smile. “In addition to being incredibly sexy, you’re a very perceptive witch.”
“Just because you saw a few books on my bookshelf doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know what you are, Sophia.”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Gently, I cup her beautiful face with both of my hands to look into those gorgeous eyes. There’s a vulnerability in their depths.
“You are a witch.”
Licking her lips, she simply stares at me.
“Trust me, my beauty. You want answers about yourself? The old crone is an excellent place to start. You just need to tune in to her. This is the best place on Earth to do that.”
Contemplating my words, a spark of curiosity burns away most of the vulnerability. As I suspected, she’s ravenous for knowledge. So desperate for it that it’s palpable and overrides the rest of her emotions.
“Come.” I stand, hold out a hand to help her up. “Let me show you something.”
“I’ve been over this property dozens of times. There’s nothing new that you can show me.”
An owl hoots as the full moon continues its rise over the eastern ridge of the mountain. The strong scent of the columbine combined with Sophia’s natural scent is exceedingly provocative. It’s hard to resist, but resist I must. Right now, I must focus on connecting her to her power.
“Humor me,” I say softly. “It’s very important –– to you. Please, Sophia.”
Her hesitation has weakened considerably. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she succumbs to her need to know. Clasping my hand, she rises gracefully to her feet.
“We might need your worship tools,” I say.
She lifts her tote.
Leaving the lanterns with the blanket, I grab my backpack. Hand in hand, we walk just a few yards to a circle laid out in stones and surrounded by the white trunks of aspen trees.
“I’ve been here. It’s a sacred circle,” she says.
I nod. “Very good. You are correct. It is a witches’ circle – an old, venerable one.” I lead her over the stones.
When her feet touch the ground in the circle, a soft breeze waifs up from below. I’m astonished. Her power is already engaged with the energy here.
“Aside from knowing it was even here, how do you know how old it is?” She asks me.
“Good questions. The answers to which you will know soon.”
She squints her eyes at me.
“Let’s just take it step by step. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
Her eyes narrow further.
I sigh in frustration, wishing I had time to go slower with her.
“Alright. Will you be satisfied with a short explanation and have the details filled in at a later time?” I smile, needing to keep it light.
She shrugs and nods.
“Was that a yes or no? If a no, then I’ll tell you nothing.” I smirk. Despite the gravity of the moment, I enjoy teasing her.
Frustrated herself, she rolls her eyes at me. “Yes.”
I laugh. “Has Carine shared the wolf creation lore with you?”
Dry now, Sophia’s gorgeous hair flutters around her as she shakes her head no.
“While lycanthropy is mentioned by the ancient Greeks, it was in reference to people who had some wolf traits — exceptionally strong, exceedingly hairy, ravenous appetites and the like. It isn’t until much later, during the fifteenth century that you’ll find written accounts of shapeshifting humans to wolves and wolves to humans.”
With a shadow of amusement, she raises an eyebrow. “This is the short version of how you knew this circle existed?”
“Yes, baby,” I chuckle. “Here’s the punch line. The ancient ones, the witches, needed protection from the hunters during the inquisition so they created us — werewolves from a race of lycanthropic men and women. In the generations since, a few Lycans have mated outside their species and a few of their children either lost the power to shift or went rogue. The core group, the purebreds, called sovereign wolves, remain loyal.”
Watching her process that bit of information, I pause for a moment.
“My ancestors were created by your ancestors. I’m pure and I’m your protector, Sophia.”
Her expressive eyes hide nothing. She doesn’t believe me. “Then where the hell have you been all my life?” She jokes.
I chuckle. “You haven’t needed me until now.”
She licks her lips. “Does that explain why we’re so attracted to one another?”
“No, älskling. That’s something else entirely.” The rising moon has cleared the mountain.
“Face directly east,” I say.
She turns slightly. “Is this right?”
“Well, lets see.” I take a compass from the backpack, stand behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist. With the compass in my other hand, I reach out in front of her so we can both see the reading.
“Perfect.” I smile. “As I said, a very perceptive witch.”
This close, her scent is irresistible. I slip the compass in my pocket and pull her softness back to my chest. I kiss the nape of her neck, justifying it with her need to relax. “Mmmmm. I get so distracted by you.”
She leans back further, bares more of her throat for my lips.
“The witch teases me, again.” I chuckle, but give her what she wants – a trail of kisses from her ear to her shoulder. My fangs drop. Lightly and careful not to break skin, I bite the tender spot where shoulder and throat meet, licking the nibble away.
Soon. We will mate soon.
Her nipples tighten under her bodice. I growl and slide my right hand up to cup her left breast, slowly and softly my thumb strokes the sensitive peak. She moans for me. I nuzzle her ear.
“Sweet Sophia. I must step away.” I release her, walk around to look into her smoldering eyes. “It’s only our second date and here you are seducing me, again.”
She’s all indignant. “Me seducing you? I’m not the one kissing necks.” A tiny smile lifts one corner of her mouth.
My effort to relax her seems to have worked, never mind my uncomfortable hard-on.
“Says the one who lured me into her bathroom when she was gloriously naked and dripping wet.”
And I’m not talking about the shower water.
“That wasn’t on purpose.” She blushes.
“No? Still I’m faulting you for having such an intoxicating scent.” I lean in to inhale. “I can smell your arousal, you know.”
Her breath catches, eyes dilate even more with desire.
“Mmmm. I’m like a hapless bee lured by a succulent flower.” I close my eyes, inhale again. “I can’t wait to taste your nectar.”


Author Bio:
Dany Rae is convinced that romance readers are the best readers. Unabashedly in love with love stories, they know what a magic balm romance novels are to the human psyche, especially in tumultuous times.
Take bits of Jackie Collins, elements of Fifty Shades, a touch of J. R. Ward, and mash in a healthy dose of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and you’ve got the essence of Dany Rae’s storytelling style.
She’s devoted to writing sexy yet smart, mystical yet believable storylines woven by tantalizing, well-developed characters that pull readers in.
Dany Rae is a graduate of the University of Colorado at Boulder, majoring in broadcast journalism and minoring in political science. An award-winning screenwriter and ex-TV producer, she left her civilian career with the U.S. military at the end of 2016 to pursue her dream.
After the devastating loss of her son in November 2015 and her mother just six weeks later, Dany Rae understands the power of love. It’s a lifesaver, sometimes literally.
Visit www.DanyRaeMiller.com to join her reader group. As a member, you’ll have the opportunity to sign up for ARCs (advanced reader copies) of her books, read sneak peeks and be notified of upcoming releases.
** Due to vivid love scenes and naughty language, Dany Rae Miller novels are intended for adults. *

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Beneath the Silver Rose Shadyia Ascendants Book 1 by T.S. Adrian Book Tour and Giveaway!


Beneath the Silver Rose
Shadyia Ascendants Book 1
by T.S. Adrian
Genre: Epic Fantasy, Romance
Forbidden Romance in an Age of Veiled Magic!
When Shadyia, a courtesan of the Silver Rose, violates the tenets of the Sisterhood, she is commanded by her madam to appease an order of vicious crusaders by seducing a powerful magician masquerading as a wealthy scholar.
Caught between an ancient conflict of Order and Chaos, Shadyia and her companions must descend beneath the Silver Rose into a labyrinth of deadly traps and shadowy guardians. For only there can she defy the crusaders who threaten her sorority and avert the prophecy of a darkness that returns to consume the world.

The Penance of Pride
Shadyia Ascendants Book 2
Shadyia's Adventure Continues!
'I will never leave you, and I will always come for you.'
Shadyia’s vow to her lover is put to the test when the Innocenti rise and envelope the sisterhood she adores.
As the magician she aided hunts for the path to an ancient city, the new madam of the Silver Rose strives to please the evil that has promised, upon its freedom, to make her a queen.
Meanwhile, the adviser to the Innocenti prepares the final stage of his strategy to crush the faith of the old gods. He needs but a bit of magic to carry out his ultimate plan.
Magicians. Zealots. Madams. Whores. It’s all the same to he who waits within the enchanted box. Soon he will unleash his servants, and every horror of the abyss will once again consume humanity.
The Shadyia Ascendant Book Series is the kind of fantasy book I wanted to read, but could never find. Sexy, powerful, positive.
The heroes are beaten, but are never broken.
Although this is a medieval setting (more or less 15th century Renaissance), the characters don’t scratch at fleas and trug through the book ass-deap in mud and blood and disease. I’m sure all that is accurate, but I never wanted to read about it.
I wanted magic that is rare, women that are bold and beautiful, mysterious magicians with a hidden agenda, and gods that move mortals about like pieces on a chessboard. That’s the book I wanted.
I was inspired by the fantasy writer David Gemmell in terms of pace. When you read one of his books, you get your money’s worth. He won’t spend eleven chapters with this characters arguing in a castle. The term “I could never put it down” fits a Gemmell book perfectly, and it’s what I have striven to accomplish in the Shadyia Ascendant series.
Get ready for a sexy adventure you won’t soon forget!
A graduate in history, specializing in Central-European history, I'm an avid computer gamer, reader enthusiast, and teacher of English as a foreign language. I'm American and currently reside in Poland.

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