27 April 2023

Stolen From Tomorrow, Trust Trilogy, Book One by Fox Beckman New Release Blitz! @ninestarpress @indigomarketingdesign #LGBTQIA+

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Title:  Stolen From Tomorrow

Series: Trust Trilogy, Book One

Author: Fox Beckman

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 04/25/2023

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: M/NB

Length: 64600

Genre: Paranormal, Romance, urban fantasy, interracial, gay, nonbinary, time travel, monsters, witch

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Ravi Abhiramnew’s job is simple: hunt down and neutralize supernatural threats. That is until he meets Cayenne, a charismatic time traveler who claims to know everything about him—even his most closely guarded secrets.

Going to dinner with Cayenne is probably a bad idea, and a romantic island getaway definitely is.

When a monster picks their resort as its hunting ground, Ravi’s combat skills and Cayenne’s time magic should make it a breeze to kill the monster and get their vacation back on track. But it turns out the real danger lurks much, much closer…

Stolen from Tomorrow
Fox Beckman © 2023
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
Carefully peering down the sights of his 9mm, Ravi squeezes off a shot. It strikes true, lodging deep into the monster’s exposed heart. The creature doesn’t falter in the slightest, snarling in his direction as if he were a particularly irritating gnat. A perfect shot and it isn’t good enough. Typical, really.

In all his years hunting monsters, Ravi has never seen anything quite like this before. Strips of flesh hang off grayed bones between swathes of icy-white fur, a looming eight-foot-tall humanoid crowned with twisted icicle horns, baring a mouthful of jagged fangs while the freezing air steams with its breath. The heart seems to be the obvious target, a stark knot of dark ice threading around exposed ribs into the monster’s chest, but nothing the team has thrown at it has had any effect. Val’s giant double-handed maul would surely put a crack in it, if they can get her close enough for a hit, but any time they try, the giant beast summons up a swarm of ice serpents from the surrounding snow, keeping the hunters at bay. Because being a giant, slavering behemoth with no obvious weaknesses wasn’t enough; it’s got magic too. Again, typical.

Ravi curses and ducks back to rejoin the rest of the group as the monster lets loose another bellowing roar, snaking out a many-jointed arm to rip up a huge chunk of earth and fling it at Ravi and his team. Val, eyes burning blue-white behind mirrored sunglasses, calmly steps forward and deflects the projectile with a blow of her maul. It shatters into a shower of snow and icy dirt.

“Little cover, Constance?” Harry suggests. She lowers her gun after Ravi’s shot hit dead center to zero effect, looking supremely annoyed. “Also, if you’ve got any idea what this thing is, that would be really useful.”

Constance steps forward, hands working feverishly as she pulls a tangle of thorns from her satchel and slaps it together with a handful of hastily procured dust from another pocket. A thick wall of thorns rises from the ground, cutting them off from the monster and granting a momentary reprieve. “I hast ne’er beheld such a beast ’ere, mine niece.”

“Getting a little ye olde there, Constance,” Harry tells her ancestress.

Dropping her hands, Constance turns toward the rest contritely. “Ah, yes, my apologies. I have no knowledge of this creature. Hey, nonny-nonny,” she adds with a flash of mischief.

“I think it’s a chenoo?” Nate pokes his head out from behind one of the torn-up tree trunks, still intrepidly wielding his hockey stick. He slaps one of the ice serpents away as it gets too close. “Fuck! These things are quick.”

“What’s a chenoo?” Ravi asks, eyes darting from the thorn wall and scanning the snow for more serpents. “How do we kill it?”

Nate winces. “I’m pretty sure it’s like an Algonquian version of a wendigo.”

Everyone groans. Wendigos are the worst. Harry shakes her dark hair, gun hand gesturing to the chenoo. “Okay, Professor, so how do we take it down?”

“Is it not the heart?” Val asks, peering up on her toes over the thorn wall. She’s so tall she barely needs to stretch. “It is on the outside of its body.” She ducks back down as the chenoo tears another skeletal tree right up by the roots and sends it crashing against the thorn wall.

Constance grimaces, rocking on her heels as if she’d been dealt the blow. “I cannot keep this wall up for much longer, my comrades.”

“Noted,” says Harry, forehead furrowed.

“A direct hit to the heart did nothing,” Ravi reminds her. “You’d think fire would do it, but Constance’s first spell did nothing except melt some snakes.”

Nate shakes his head. “I’m not sure what will kill it. Usually, you get the Ojibwe version of these things here in the Midwest, and the heart shot would have killed one of those. I’d have to do some research. Would have been nice if the client gave us this info before sending us here, don’t you think?”

“Take cover!” Val bellows as a massive tree trunk flies their way. Ravi grabs the person closest to him. He drags Harry out of the way while Val snatches up Nate and Constance and teleports them out of sight just as earth and bark crash down through the thorn wall onto the churned-up snow where they had all been standing.

Ravi helps Harry to her feet as they take cover behind a tangle of fallen oaks. “I guess it would have been too easy if this ice monster was vulnerable to fire, huh,” she says wryly, kicking at an errant ice snake. “If I could talk to it, I might be able to figure out what it wants. We’ve talked down monsters from a fight once or twice before.”

“If it’s like a wendigo, it just wants to eat people. I could set up a sniper nest,” Ravi offers. “There are decent vantage points there”—he points up at a pair of snowy hills—“and there.”

Harry gives him an incredulous look. “Is that what you have in that big bag, a friggin’ sniper rifle? Where’d you learn to snipe?”

“Israel,” he answers shortly.

Her eyebrows lift. “What were you doing in Israel?”

Mourning. “Training,” he says. “The Trust has a few consultants in Mossad.”

Harry rolls her eyes. “Of course you do. I bet all you covert agent types get together for regular potlucks and barbeques.” She scans their surroundings. “No rifles. Let’s try to keep any more gunplay to a minimum,” she says with regret. Ravi knows how she feels. The two of them are the marksmen of the group, and sometimes it’s not easy being overshadowed by an Amazonian angel warrior with a big magic hammer and a spell-slinging sorceress. At least the new guy just has a hockey stick.

Ravi watches her face, sees where she’s looking, thinks he can intuit her plan. “You want to give Val an opening?” It’s standard ops to get a team’s main damage dealer where they’ll do the most harm, and Harry has surprisingly good instincts for team dynamics, considering she operated as a lone PI before all this supernatural shit entered her life. She nods decisively, and he holsters his gun. “Good plan. I’ll back your play.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” She breathes out, then they both burst into motion. Harry grabs a couple of branches, hands one to Ravi, and, wielding them like clubs, they wade out into the open. The ice snakes are quick and agile, but only take a hit or two before they shatter. The pair fan out in different directions, smashing and stomping, creating a pie slice toward the others. “Constance!” Harry cries out. “Distract it!”

Constance runs forward into the cleared space, bright energy already swirling around her hands. While she gathers up her magic, Harry nods at Ravi. He nods back and moves to cover their witch, stomping an approaching ice snake’s head under his oxfords before it can get too close to her. “Where’s Nate?”

“He went down the embankment,” Val intones. “He claimed he had an idea.”

Constance finishes her spell, speaking an unfamiliar word and pulling her hands up into twin claws. Fire spreads up from cracks in the ground in front of the chenoo. It reels back, roaring with fury, and turns toward the fire, leaving its back open and unguarded.

“Let’s hope the Professor is right,” Harry mutters, thwacking a pair of ice snakes. “Val, got your wings on?”

“Always.” Val’s sunglasses reflect the blaze, and white, feathered wings appear from nowhere, unfurling behind her. With a flash, she teleports behind the creature, raises her war hammer, and slams it down onto the monster. A solid hit. The pained screech of the thing is so piercing and terrible it raises the hairs on everybody’s arms. All the ice snakes stop their advance and writhe in place.

Ravi takes the opportunity to stomp a few more of the snakes before they recover as Constance throws open her satchel. “To battle, my familiar!” Her cat, Griswold, leaps from the bag and pounces on the nearest ice snake with a bold, strident battle cry.

“Take that, loathsome serpent! Have at thee, villains!”

The cat sinks his fangs into the back of the snake’s head and shakes fiercely.

It’s a weird team, Ravi admits, but it works.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Prone to diving way too deep down research rabbit-holes and absolutely incapable of working without a curated playlist in the background, Fox Beckman lives in the Twin Cities and has far too many irons in the fire. Fox is writer, an artist, an occasional wrangler of kangaroos, a longsword fencer, an archer, a roller of dice, and a forager of mushrooms that aren’t deadly (probably).

Website | Twitter

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A Matter of Faith: Henry VIII, the Days of the Phoenix by Judith Arnopp! @JudithArnopp @cathiedunn @Tudor_JudithArnopp @thecoffeepotbookclub

 #HistoricalFiction #Tudors #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub


Book Title: A Matter of Faith: Henry VIII, the Days of the Phoenix

Series: The Henrician Chronicle

Author: Judith Arnopp

Publication Date: March 20th, 2023

Publisher: self-published

Page Length: 209

Genre: Historical Fiction


Finally free of Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII, is now married to Anne Boleyn and eagerly awaiting the birth of his son. In a court still reeling from the royal divorce and growing public resentment against church reform, Henry must negotiate widespread resentment toward Anne. He places all his hopes in a son to cement his Tudor bloodline, but his dreams are shattered when Anne is delivered of a daughter.

Burying his disappointment, Henry focuses on getting her with child again, but their marriage is volatile and as Henry faces personal bereavement, and discord at court, Anne’s enemies are gathering. When the queen miscarries of a son, and Henry suffers a life-threatening accident, his need for an heir becomes critical. Waiting in the wings is Jane Seymour, a lady-in-waiting who offers the king comfort and respite from Anne’s fiery passions.

But, when Anne falls foul of her former ally, Thomas Cromwell, and the king is persuaded he has been made a cuckold, Henry strikes out and the queen falls beneath the executioner’s sword, taking key players in Henry’s household with her. 

Jane Seymour, stepping up to replace the fallen queen, quickly becomes pregnant. Delighted with his dull but fertile wife, Henry’s spirits rise even further when the prince is born safely. At last, Henry has all he desires but even as he celebrates, fate is preparing to deliver one more staggering blow. 

Henry, the once perfect Renaissance prince, is now a damaged middle-aged man, disappointed in those around him but most of all in himself. As the king’s optimism diminishes, his intractability increases, and the wounded lion begins to roar.


This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited. 

Universal Link: http://mybook.to/amofaith 

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BWF2WL1Q 

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BWF2WL1Q 


Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0BWF2WL1Q 

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0BWF2WL1Q 



When Judith Arnopp began to write professionally there was no question as to which genre to choose. A lifelong history enthusiast and avid reader, Judith holds an honours degree in English and Creative writing, and a Masters in Medieval Studies, both from the University of Wales, Lampeter. 


Judith writes both fiction and non-fiction, working full-time from her home overlooking Cardigan Bay in Wales where she crafts novels based in the Medieval and Tudor period. Her main focus is on the perspective of historical women from all roles of life, prostitutes to queens, but she has recently turned her attention to Henry VIII himself.


Her novels include: 

A Matter of Conscience: Henry VIII, the Aragon Years. (Book one of The Henrician Chronicle)

A Matter of Faith: Henry VIII, the years of the Phoenix (Book Two of The Henrician Chronicle)


The Beaufort Bride: (Book one of The Beaufort Chronicle)

The Beaufort Woman: (Book two of The Beaufort Chronicle)

The Kings Mother: (Book three of The Beaufort Chronicle)

 

The Heretic Wind: the life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England

A Song of Sixpence: The story of Elizabeth of York

Intractable Heart: The story of Katheryn Parr

The Kiss of the Concubine: A story of Anne Boleyn

Sisters of Arden: on the pilgrimage of Grace

The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry VIII

The Song of Heledd: 

The Forest Dwellers

Peaceweaver


Her non-fiction articles feature in various historical anthologies and magazines and an illustrated non-fiction book, How to Dress like a Tudor will be published by Pen & Sword in 2023.



Website: https://www.judithmarnopp.com

Blog: http://juditharnoppnovelist.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudithArnopp

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thetudorworldofjuditharnopp

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/judith-arnopp-ba999025/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tudor_juditharnopp/ 

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/judith-arnopp


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26 April 2023

The Last Dragonfly by E.G. Moore Book BLitz! #TheLastDragonfly #EGMoore #YALit #XpressoTours⁣⁣⁣⁣ @XpressoTours⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣

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The Last Dragonfly
E.G. Moore


Publication date: April 25th 2023
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

A magical dragonfly. A science-focused society. Only one can bring the land and her people from the brink of death.

Sixteen-year-old Governor’s daughter Etoiny longs to throw off her upper-class responsibilities and become the first female scientist of Taachat. When she accidentally wounds a thought-extinct dragonfly, she must race to find a bygone cure in order to present it to the Science Society for admission.

While she researches remedies for the dragonfly, she and the creature form a bond that can’t be explained by science. The dragonfly also revives dying blooms all Taachat’s citizens need to stay alive for the next three-year cycle. Her dead mother’s missing journal could offer insight if only Etoiny could find it.

She soon realizes two powerful people are on the hunt for the dragonfly and its healing ability. Just as Etoiny finds a way to save her dragonfly, she discovers horrors her father has allowed in the underbelly of Taachat and it makes her question who she wants to be.

Etoiny must decide whether to claim her place as a renowned scientist by offering the creature for experimentation or sacrifice her dream, team up with her animal friend, and fulfill their magical destiny.

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She strode around the fence and out onto the orchard’s ground. The creature in her pocket shifted around and around and a growly squeak sounded. Etoiny lifted a pocket flap and peeked inside. The creature had curled up and growled again at the streak of light shining in. Streaks of weak steam puffed out.

“Please give me some space to think,” she told Morem without looking up. “Half a dozen steps, if you please.”

“No.”

Etoiny snapped her head up at Morem’s response.

“I need to know what’s going on with that thing.” He peered at her pocket. “You’ve not been yourself. Sure, you’ve always spent large amounts of time in your room, and this must be difficult for you.” He gestured to the figures walking away from them. “But you’ve brushed off those that care about you, hardly seen the sun, and it’s been two days since you’ve asked me for our daily riddle.” Hurt leached into the last part of his sentence. He bumped her elbow with his fingertips and directed her to a far blossom tree. “I discovered it with you. Don’t you trust me?” He’d not said so many words in one speech in a long time.

“Of course, I trust you. I just wanted to figure some things out before I told anyone about it. Before the Science Society’s admittance presentations.”

Morem stood straighter. “And have you?”

Etoiny glanced at her shuddering pocket. “Not a lot.”

“Don’t you think that if the two of us looked, we’d cover more ground? Gather more information?”

“Perhaps.” Etoiny drew out the word, thinking hard about Jaya’s actions. “Although, I have cause to believe someone knows and is trying to steal it.”

“Well, we won’t let them.”

Morem’s rich brown eyes and stoic expression swelled guilt in her chest.

E.G. Moore is an award-winning poet and children book author, as well as a freelance writer and editor. Her essay Wearing Teresa’s Russet Boots was featured in Hope Paige’s Anthology on loss Breaking Sad in 2017, and she had several pieces published in an anthology honoring a local historic building in 2018. When she’s not telling “Mommy Made stories” to her three children or awaiting feedback for her latest manuscript, she can be found off-roading in North Idaho, baking something scrumptious, or on a plot-and-soul refreshing hike.

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Return to Hummingbird Way by @reeseryanwrites Book Blitz! #reeseryan #ReturntoHummingbirdWay #romance #romancebooks #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣

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Return to Hummingbird Way
Reese Ryan


Publication date: April 25th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

In this heartwarming small‑town romance, can three months, two planning projects, and a meddling grandmother finally make two high school hate crushes see just how right they are for each other?

Ambitious real estate agent Sinclair Buchanan is ecstatic to be her best friend’s maid-of-honor—until she discovers the best man is Garrett Davenport. Sin and Rett’s mutual hate crush ignited when they were teens and hasn’t let up since . . . except for that one extremely hot (and extremely regrettable) night they shared five years ago.

Nothing gets Rett fired up like going toe-to-toe with Sinclair. She’s as infuriatingly stubborn, and as absolutely gorgeous, as when he fell for her back in high school. Working together to plan their best friends’ last-minute wedding is one thing, but when his matchmaking grandmother gets involved Rett knows he’s in deep. Attraction has always simmered between them, but this time, they’re both in danger of losing their hearts.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

“Garrett Davenport, how very nice of you to finally show up.” Sinclair sashayed toward him, clutching a clear clipboard decorated with a colorful floral design.

Sinclair assessed him with disdain, flecks of green and gold dancing in those large hazel eyes he’d been mesmerized by from the first moment he’d laid eyes on them in high school. She pursed her glossy pink lips, her nostrils flaring, and planted a fist on one curvy hip.

The bossy little she-devil was infuriating, attitudish, and fucking gorgeous. And she damn well knew it.

Her floral, sleeveless dress showed off her toned arms and sculpted shoulders—a feature he’d never noticed on a woman before, let alone been attracted to. The hem of the flirty little skirt grazed her midthigh, accentuating her tawny brown skin, a shade that landed smack between her father’s dark brown skin and her mother’s olive skin tone.

Sinclair flipped her hair, a deep, rich brown highlighted with ribbons of honey blond, over one shoulder and ran her manicured nails through the waterfall of shoulder-length waves. Her gaze bore into him, and if looks could kill, he’d be lying on the floor stone cold.

“You do realize you’re an hour late to your own best friend’s engagement party.” She leaned into him, speaking in a harsh whisper that only he could hear. “You sure you gon’ be able to show up for the wedding on time?”

Her nasally voice reminded him of Whitley Gilbert’s from A Different World. And just a few minutes into the conversation, she’d already intimated that he was an unreliable slacker. Rett clenched his jaw. Yet, as annoyed as he was, he couldn’t help noticing how hot Sin looked tonight.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rett finally managed. He shoved his hands, balled into fists, into his pockets. “Something came up.”

Sinclair’s gaze dropped to the placket in front of his zipper momentarily. Her eyes widened and her cheeks and forehead flushed. She quickly returned her attention to the clipboard.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t forget their previous encounter.

“It’s always some excuse with you, Rett.” Sinclair wrapped her arms around the clipboard, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

Was she clutching the clipboard because he made her nervous? Or was she shielding her body’s reaction after shamelessly ogling him two minutes into their conversation?

It didn’t matter. Because Sinclair Buchanan was as irritating now as she’d been when they’d been forced to hang out together while Dexter and Dakota had dated in high school. She seemed to hate him on sight back then. But he hadn’t helped matters when he’d tried to talk his cousin out of getting serious with Sin’s best friend.

When Dex had suddenly ended things with Dakota the Christmas after he’d left for college, Sinclair had confronted Rett outside his grandmother’s house. She’d been as mad as a hornet and had cussed him out six ways to Sunday—sure he’d been behind the breakup.

He hadn’t been. But he hadn’t bothered telling her so. Besides, as distraught as she’d been, he’d doubted Sinclair would’ve believed a single word he’d said.

Since Dexter and Dakota’s reconciliation, Sinclair must surely have learned the truth: he had nothing to do with Dexter and Dakota’s breakup back then. In fact, he’d been as shocked by it as anyone. But evidently, it didn’t matter, because Sinclair clearly still wasn’t a fan. Though she certainly had been that night in his hotel room, given the enthusiasm with which she’d called his name and the marks she’d left on his back.

“It’s not an excuse, Sin. I planned to be here on time, but I was sidetracked by—”

“Didn’t think you were going to make it.” Dexter approached, holding Dakota’s hand. The two of them looked ridiculously happy, and Rett felt a slight twinge of envy.

“And miss your engagement party?” Rett slapped palms and clasped hands with Dex. “No way, cuz. Been waiting half my life to see you finally tie the knot with this beautiful lady.” He turned toward his cousin’s soon-to-be better half. “Congrats, Dakota.”

“Thank you, Rett.” Dakota’s grin lit her brown eyes. She gave him a big hug. “And for the record, I knew you’d be here tonight. It was these two who were sweating it.” She gestured toward Dex and Sinclair, then glanced around the room. “Mama Mae didn’t come with you?”

“She’s sick and didn’t much appreciate me fussing over her,” Rett said.

“But you did anyway.” Dakota smiled. “The relationship you two have is adorable.”

“’Cause Mama Mae is the only woman who can get him to behave,” Sinclair muttered as she scanned her clipboard. When they all turned to look at her, Sin looked up and shrugged. “What? You know it’s true.”

“Be nice, Sin.” Dakota pointed a finger at her best friend. “You promised you two would get along.”

“Fine.” She flashed Rett a dead-eyed smile and turned up the Whitley Gilbert singsong southern belle voice. “We are so very glad that you could join us this evening, Garrett. I was just about to ask the staff to take the food away. So please make yourself a plate.” She batted her long, thick eyelashes. “In fact, why don’t I escort you to the buffet?”

Dexter and Dakota snickered, and Rett couldn’t help chuckling to himself.

That was as warm a greeting as he could expect from the former beauty queen, who now employed that same charm in her job as one of the island’s top real estate agents. Evidently, she reserved that charm for people not named Rett Davenport.

Sinclair turned and walked toward the buffet, indicating that he should come with. He did, captivated by the subtle sway of her hips as he followed in the wake of her soft, delicate scent. All of it taking him back to that night they’d shared in Raleigh five years ago.

Yes, he’d been an immature jerk to Sinclair in high school. She clearly still held a grudge and had no intentions of letting him forget it. Despite the night they’d shared.

Fine. Because he wasn’t here for Sinclair. He was here for Dexter and Dakota. For them, he’d tolerate Ms. Thing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with her.

Reese Ryan writes sexy, deeply emotional romances with family drama, surprising secrets, and unexpected twists.

Past president of her local Romance Writers of America chapter and a panelist at the 2017 Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, Reese is an advocate for the romance genre and diversity in fiction.

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The 4th book in the Somnolence series by @theskywriteshere is finally here! ⁣⁣#Renley #Somnolence #AliLuciaSky #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣

 #greatreads #booknerd #fortheloveofreading #bookstagrammer #bibliophile #bookaholic #mustread #authorsofinstagram #bookblogger #amreading

Renley
Ali Lucia Sky


Publication date: April 25th 2023
Genres: Adult, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

In her darkest moment, he came willing to burn the world down for her.

During one night of weakness, Adder Rowe gave in to some sweet words, and has a lot of complications in her life to show for it. Now pregnant, she is eking by. But even before that, her ties to CypherSphere Records and Of Ashes To Eternity had left a bad taste in her mouth and an uneasy feeling in her heart.

Renley Titan isn’t anyone’s hero. A chance meeting with his Tether, when she reaches out to his former band, leaves him in a dicey position. Play the game and keep winning the hearts of millions, or break the rules and make the world a better place for everyone by blowing it all up. The volatile keyboardist could go either way.

But when someone comes out of the woodwork looking for a story only Adder can tell, how far will they go to get it?

Please be advised by the content warning inside the book.

It’s recommended that you read the series in order beginning with RAIDEN.

Goodreads / Amazon

I look down at the white stick in my hand and see the impossible.

Two pink lines.

I pick up the other one, and this one says what the other suggests: PREGNANT.

I sink down on the toilet lid. “No! No, no, no, no, no!” I close my eyes and shake my head until it swims.

One night with a real asshole is all it took, and this is what came of it. The situation is unreal. I can’t believe it. How could I be so stupid? Alcohol and penises just don’t mix.

There’s a pounding on the bathroom door. “Adder! Tell me! Tell me, tell me! Are you… preggers?” he whispers the last word like someone might hear. I grab my head and whimper.

I do the futile and try to banish him, yelling through the door, “Jazzie, go away!” I lean my head against the Pepto Bismol color wall of my apartment.

You are!” He gasps, rattling the door. Finding it locked, he starts knocking like he’s a Girl Scout with a cookie quota to make. “Let me in! I need to see!”

I stand, because my bathroom is closet-sized and unlock the door. Opening it, I wave Jazzie in and move to sit on the edge of our tub. He picks up the stick and then sets it down, cringing. “You tinkled on this. Augh! I forgot about that!”

“I didn’t pee all over it,” I defend myself.

“Knowing you, that’s debatable.” He rolls his eyes.

I sigh. “Jazz, I’m gonna toss you out in a second.”

“Will not, I’m your best friend.” He smirks. “I’m your only friend.”

“I can find more friends.” I knock my head against the tile.

“But we’ve known one another since we were six. I came out to you when I was thirteen. We have history,” he says smugly.

“We are going to be history,” I sass.

Jazzie ignores me, smiles before laughing joyfully. “We’re going to be mothers!”

I lift my arms in argument and let them fall to my thighs with a clap of defeat. “I can’t keep this baby!”

“You aren’t talking about…” he whispers, “abortion.”

“I’m talking about having this baby and dropping it off on PJ Westgate’s doorstep. He’s got money, and you and I eat out of the clearance racks at Vons.” I stand, grabbing the pee sticks and move out to the living room. I set the pregnancy tests down on our kitchen table, and Jazzie squeals.

“Ewww! No! We eat here!” He points at the table before going and grabbing napkins from our copious supply. We have a collection from nearly every fast food restaurant in the city. He lays out five, waves me to set down the sticks and makes a face. “So gross.”

“Seriously? I couldn’t do the tests any other way. It was urine only, nothing else was acceptable.” I give him a look of censure.

He shivers like he’s got the willies and sucks on his bottom lip. “Whateves. Take a picture. Send it to him. NO! Better yet. Send it to the whole band. Blast it. Make it so it can’t be ignored.”

“I don’t know. You’re talking about rocking the boat… again. That didn’t work so well last time. I lost my job and can’t worm my way into working anywhere in the entertainment industry again.” I look down at the tests. “Cheez Whiz. How am I going to afford the costs of being pregnant? It’s expensive. I mean, my bank account is hurting just in food I lose in tossing my cookies back up these days.”

“Well, you do buy expensive cookies.” Jazz sighs as I flip him off. “What? You’re a known cookie slut. I mean go with it. It’s one slutting you can wear with relentless pride.”

“Jazz? How am I going to do this?” I mutter.

“I have a great job.” He hugs me. “I’ll help.”

I wrap my hands around my best friend. “No offense, but you’re an Uber driver. You don’t have any benefits. With me out of work, we are eking by. We can barely pay for this apartment.”

I look around. Our apartment is delightful with its parquet floors and 40’s-esque charm. Miracle Mile isn’t the most overly sought after location in Los Angeles, but everywhere you go in the city, you pay more than you should. Our one bedroom is barely 800 square feet, it’s small and over 2k/month.

I got a great severance from CypherSphere when I was let go. I was a paid intern, which is a unicorn position in the industry. On top of that, I got a hush settlement to stop talking about what happened. Those two combined lasted six months. Not being able to find a job is an expense in itself.

“We’ll make it work.” Jazz nods. “Now send off those pee sticks.”


Ali Lucia Sky is the author of The Powers That Be series. She lives in Southern California with her husband and a house full of kitty cats and a yard full of crows.

She loves laughing, drinking good coffee, vegan food, and supporting animal rescues.

When she isn’t writing or dreaming of new stories, she can be found planning her next vacation because traveling is life.

If you encounter her in the wild, don’t be offended if she should run away. She’s timid with strangers, but can be plied with shiny things and pictures of your cat or dog.

She’s a weirdo like that.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok / Pinterest


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25 April 2023

Undertaking Love by Megan Montgomery Book Blitz! #UndertakingLove #MeganMontgomery #XpressoTours @XpressoTours⁣

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Undertaking Love
Megan Montgomery


Publication date: April 1st 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Bethany West upgraded her lucrative career as a sex worker for her dream job as a death worker when she partnered at Smythe & Co. Mortuary. She expected her eco-friendly innovations and death positive attitude to blow the roof off the Victorian-era relic. But that was seven months ago, and during that time, she’s only managed to piss off her embittered business partner, George Smythe, a man dead set on maintaining the status quo and driving Bethany out of his namesake business.

When the pair reluctantly travel together to a mortuary conference in New Orleans—and compete in dueling embalming demonstrations—George finally recognizes the value of Bethany’s business model for the first time. He’s also starting to recognize a growing attraction to his blonde bombshell business partner. Meanwhile, Bethany learns the truth behind George’s cold contempt, and it’s much worse than she thought, stemming not from a single incident, but from the constant on-call status, the compassion fatigue, and the overwhelming stress of the job.

Bethany has 4 days to crack open his tough outer shell to reveal the compassionate man she knows is inside, and she has a plan, but unless George learns to open his heart and lean on her, at the risk of succumbing to their cremation-level attraction in a dangerous way, he’ll jeopardize both the business and their hearts by refusing the true partnership they both need.

Goodreads / Amazon


Bethany

My body was broken.

I blinked hard to lubricate my eyes, struggling to stay awake behind the wheel. The vent blasted tepid air into my face, trying its damnedest to desiccate my skin and sabotage the efforts of my latest hyaluronic acid injections.

My stomach churned from too much coffee and too little sleep.

A sweat broke out under my arms and boobs.

Great. Now I could smell all that coffee excreting from my pores and ruining my favorite silk blouse.

I glanced at the man in the passenger seat.

George’s pores were looking perfectly dry, as usual. He wouldn’t think of sweating, even from the most strenuous effort.

I’d seen him pull a rotund, decomposing man out of that impossible space between the toilet and the bathtub and plop him on a mortuary cot in an un-air-conditioned, third-floor apartment in the middle of August without breaking a sweat.

The man never had a hair out of place, was never not freshly shaven, and he never forgot to button his suit jacket when he stood, or unbutton it when he sat.

And he was a consummate professional—as long as you didn’t work with him.

And as long as your name wasn’t Bethany West.

I breathed in a lungful of stale air. Even now, in the mortuary van, George managed to smell fresh, yet intensely masculine. The faintest notes of sandalwood and citrus wafted toward me as he fiddled with his ear, pushing his earbud deeper in.

I suspected he wasn’t listening to anything producing actual sound; the earbuds were just a tactic to try to keep me from making “unnecessary” conversation.

I was almost too tired to care.

I stifled a yawn, hoping he wouldn’t catch it.

He did, of course.

I saw the tick of his jaw from the corner of my eye. Glaring at the screen of the laptop balanced on his crossed legs, his flexed fingers hovering over the keyboard, a ballpoint pen clutched in his teeth.

I’d never seen the man smile except for a wince-like approximation of the real thing, and he saved that stingy expression for our clients.

After an entire life spent in the trenches of the funeral business, his handsome face was permanently etched into a show of bland sympathy—except when he scowled in contempt.

That expression was reserved exclusively for me.


Megan Montgomery writes romance. Sometimes they're funny. Sometimes they're morbid, but all her characters have cool jobs. She and her husband, Johnathon Olavarria co-host Forced Proximity podcast, a weekly romance book and movie club.

Her debut novel, Well . . . THAT Was Awkward was inspired by her homesickness for southern Maryland. She now lives halfway across the US on the prairie with her husband, son, and mom.

When she’s not writing, reading, lifting weights, or cooking dinners her son won’t eat, you’ll find her toiling in the garden or brewing potions from her medicinal herbs.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub

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