Rejected Moon Dirigo Pack Series Book 4 by Sabrina Silvers Release Tour!

 As they confront their painful pasts and the powerful

 mating bond they once rejected, can they forge a new

 future together, or will they be torn apart by old

 wounds?  

Rejected Moon

Dirigo Pack Series Book 4

by Sabrina Silvers

Genre

 Paranormal Romance  

 Nik Connal has lived his life in the shadows, on borrowed time. As a rogue, he was supposed to be killed the moment he was exiled from his birth pack, rejected by his father, and condemned by all who knew him. Instead of sinking into despair, he gathered a pack of others like him and forged his own path, determined to make a difference, outside the pack hierarchy, yet always determined to find a home for himself and his pack. He lived a life of lies, did things he hated, all for a greater good.

Until he came face to face with the mate he was forced to reject.

Isa Sinclair knows what it's like to be abused and tortured, to be at the mercy of those stronger than her. Now that she is the number three enforcer in the Chesapeake Pack, she takes her duties as protector seriously. When she is asked to help those wolves abused by the Saranac Alpha, she willingly accepts, until she is confronted by a ghost from her past, a ghost she never expected to see again.

As Nik and Isa confront the mating bond that ties them together, can they navigate the dangers of their present, and overcome the pain of their past to find a new future, healed and whole together? Or will they fall back into despair, alone and broken? Rejected.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Kobo * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

Forbidden Moon

A Dirigo Pack Series Prequel Novella  

Can a mating bond bridge the gap between feuding packs … or will it destroy them all?

Maya Wessex and Garrett Colvin were childhood friends until their pack rivalry tore then apart. When they meet again as adults, the mating bond roars to life, giving them a second chance at life, love, and mating.

But when a vicious attack on Maya’s pack threatens to ignite a war, not only is their mating at risk, but their lives and the lives of their pack.

Forbidden Moon is a prequel novella set in the Dirigo Pack world. It does not need to be read before the other books in the series.

Amazon * Apple * B&N * Google * Kobo * Books2Read * Bookbub * Goodreads

Rejected Moon – Sabrina Silvers

A scent tinged with the bitterness of anger drifted to him, along with a hint of something he was more familiar with. Fear. It was acrid and sour to his nose, and he hated it. Over the past two years, he had become far too accustomed to it as Treadway’s enforcer and right arm. Even when he had tried to help people, they had watched him with wariness. He couldn’t wait for the peace and quiet and remoteness of the Alaskan wilderness, provided Caleb didn’t screw them over.

Another scent floated on the bitter one with tones of jasmine, rose, and sandalwood, notes embedded in his memory for the past decade but lost to him until recently. It made the wolf inside him lunge against the stranglehold he had placed on him, almost tearing loose.

Nik froze, his hands bracing the punching bag still, his body rigid and stiff. He didn’t dare turn around, afraid of scaring away the interloper.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone in here this late.” Her voice was husky and caressed his nerve endings, making him want something he would never have. His cock stirred, something he was quickly becoming accustomed to after years when it had seemed to have gone dormant.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He slowly turned around to face the female whose screams had haunted his nightmares since that horrible night, more than ten years ago. “I can go if you want the space.”

Isabelle Sinclair, third in the Chesapeake pack, stood in the gym doorway dressed in black leggings and a T-shirt. She hugged herself, betraying her tension despite her carefully blank face. She looked anywhere but at him, her gaze darting around the spacious room filled with workout equipment and sparring mats. Caleb had spared no expense for his enforcers, ensuring they were well-prepared for anything they faced on the job. Too bad Nik was slowly demolishing his stash of punching bags. He considered it his payment, since nothing else was coming to him or his team. At least not yet.

He held his breath as she seemed to consider her options. Then she straightened, her chin lifting as she met his gaze defiantly. “You don’t have to leave. I’m not afraid of you.”

He suppressed a smile and silently applauded her, the too-silent she-wolf who used to cower beneath the gazes of the males of the pack they had come from. “I never thought you were afraid of me. You will never have anything to be afraid of. I would never hurt you. I couldn’t.”

She snorted. “Bull. You forget, I know you, Nico. I’ve always known you. You may have the Council fooled with your reformed ways, but I grew up in your pack. I saw you. I know what’s in your blood. I know who you really are, deep down.”

Nik flinched, her words striking him like knives. She wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t exactly refute her words. He was Nico Constantine, son of one of the most traditional Alphas on the entire Council and one of the most brutal, save Treadway. His blood ran through Nik’s veins. His DNA had made Nik the man he was. His father’s actions had formed his entire early years. He’d made Nik, and, for worse, he was the voice inside of Nik’s mind and soul at all times, continuing the torment from his childhood.

Nik advanced on her slowly until he stood a few feet from her. “Believe me, I never forget who I am or where I came from. No one knows that better than I.” He let his gaze travel over her, the toned body, the fighter stance, the challenge in her gaze. “But you’re not the same Isabelle Sinclair from back then either, are you?”

Her lips curled in a snarl, her wolf rising to the surface, and his wolf pushed at the chains, eager to tangle with his mate. “My name is Isa.”

“And mine is Nik. Nik Connal. You’re not the only one who has changed, Isa.”

“Unlike you, I changed more than my name. I will never be a victim again, not of you. Not of anyone.” The fierceness in her tone made his wolf proud, glad she could defend herself.

“You never had to protect yourself from me. I never hurt you, not intentionally.” Of course, it was the unintentional pain that he wished he could take back, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

She gave him a look of disbelief, then folded her arms in front of her, armor against him. “Whatever. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

He raised an eyebrow. How could she be so oblivious to the call of her wolf? Was she that disconnected from her wolf? Or did she hate him so much that she would rather live the life of a rejected mate with the bleeding hole where the bond was torn out? He would know. He’d spent the last decade with the raw, open wound, never expecting to find her again.

He’d let her go, never sought her out even though the bond would act like a homing device if he let it, but he’d respected her choices when she’d told him never to follow. However, the Goddess had other plans for them, bringing them together in the shitstorm of Treadway and their Supreme Alpha’s mess. Now, he had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. If she asked him to leave her alone, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do it.

He took another step forward, slowly, carefully, watching her for any sign of fear. He’d gotten good at watching for those indicators over the past two years and hated it every time he saw them. But instead of fear, he saw a flare of awareness.

“Don’t you know? Check your wolf, Isabelle. See what she says.”

Her eyes glowed gold for a moment as she sucked in a breath. “No.” She breathed the word, a hint of horror in the tone, and hope plummeted.

“Yes, Isabelle. We’re mates. The bond has reawakened, stronger than ever. The power can’t be ignored.”

She shook her head almost frantically. “The Goddess wouldn’t be this cruel to me twice. You rejected me. I was there. I felt you reject me.”

He rubbed his chest where the bond still ached, a dull seeping of energy, like a trickle of blood that he’d almost grown accustomed to over the years. But, with her nearness, the bond had flared to awareness and ached with a visceral pain, demanding that he claim her as his own. But he would never force her. He had vowed no one would force Isabelle again, not even him, and he stood by that.

“Clearly, it didn’t take,” he replied dryly.

Her eyes flashed fire. “Reject me. Now.”

“I don’t think that will work this time, baby. I think we have to figure a way around this and complete the mating.”

Forbidden Moon – Sabrina Silvers

Maya glided silently through the forest, as quietly as her human half could move, and expanded her wolf's senses as far as she could while keeping a firm grip on her other half. She couldn’t risk letting out her wolf, not with her emotions running as high as they were. As a human, she could maintain control, not let the rage, pain, and grief explode into the night. There was only one way that could go, and it would be bad for anyone around. As a result, she locked her emotions down tightly into a vault, muting everything she could to reduce the pain to a numbness. It also numbed the mating bond that had been a raw wound for the past few weeks since she left Garrett at the Council Headquarters, but she’d better get used to that pain since it was highly unlikely that she’d ever be able to complete that bond now that the situation between their packs had turned to shit.

No, she relied on the strict control her Alpha demanded, what had been ingrained in her, in their entire pack, since the day she began training to shift. That control was only reinforced and built upon during her years of enforcer training when her true strength as a powerful, dominant member of the pack had revealed itself.

Where was that strength when the most vulnerable members of her pack, the pups and caretakers who relied on her for protection, needed it? Where was she when they were slaughtered and the survivors kidnapped by unknown assailants, leaving behind a blood-soaked ground and broken bodies?

A growl erupted from her throat and she paused, her hands fisted at her side as she fought against the overwhelming tide of grief coming from inside of her and through the pack bonds. A wave of soothing energy flowed through, a power smoothing out the rough edges, and she felt the band around her chest loosen. Her Alpha, checking on the pack and letting them all know he was with them. 

Maya bent over at the waist, her hands braced on her knees as she gulped air, feeling like she could breathe for the first time since that awful moment earlier that day. The band around her chest easing just enough to let her think clearly for a moment. It was in that split second that her wolf caught the scent of something. She pushed at the restrictions that Maya had placed on her, almost breaking free, but Maya wrestled her back to let the human surface and consider the information.

The scent was something that was familiar, something that made her wolf perk up inside, yet it didn’t belong on Dirigo Pack land. She suppressed a growl and moved quietly, yet swiftly, in the direction of the scent on the wind. She slowed as she approached the clearing, crouching behind the brush to spy on the source of the smell.

A male dressed quickly in the clearing, as if he had just shifted, shrugging into a flannel shirt to ward off the chill in the spring evening air. He already wore a pair of jeans and shoes and, as she watched, balled up a soft bag to stuff in his pocket, a bag some shifters carried a change of clothes in while shifted. His posture was awfully comfortable and relaxed, considering he wasn’t Dirigo and could be killed for trespassing. In fact, if any other enforcer had found him, they already would have killed him, considering the heightened emotions and state of emergency they were operating under. Yet he acted as if it was a normal day.

Could he be one of the Council Enforcers, sent to investigate the situation? If so, he got here rather quickly since her pack leadership had only put the call in a few hours previously. That was the only reason she hesitated to act. Well, that and the fact that her Alpha ordered her and all enforcers not to react violently no matter what, in an effort to avoid further bloodshed.

She eased into the meadow and shifted her hand, placing her claws against his throat, even as a familiar scent teased at her memory.

“Why are you on Dirigo land? Speak quickly before you can’t say anything.”

**Don’t miss the rest of the books in the series!**

Find links on the

Author’s Website! 

 Sabrina Silvers began her writing career dreaming of elves, orcs, and hobbits in the fantasy section of her local library, looking in wardrobes for Narnia and Aslan, and hunting for gnomes in the forest. To her dismay, she never found any of them except between the pages of her books. So, she had to go out and create them for herself, leading to her lifelong love of reading and writing and dreaming about adventures, fantasy creatures and love in fantasy lands! She divides her time between writing sexy contemporary romances under a different pen name, reading, knitting and being owned by a very spoiled cocker spaniel who does not share her love of fantasy creatures

Website * Facebook * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$10 Amazon

a Rafflecopter giveaway

City Knights Book 1 by Chris Miller Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #TheSonsOfThunder @authorchrismiller @cmwordslinger

Welcome to the Revolution 

The Sons of Thunder

Unrated Directors Cut

City Knights Book 1

by Chris Miller

Genre

 Dystopian SciFi Cyberpunk Action Splatterpunk Adventure

WarningL Sexual content and language

When Sawyer "Deck" Declan, more machine than man, is offered an opportunity to go after the terrorist who took his former life away, he heads into the wastelands surrounding the domed city of Nuevo Buenos Aires, hunting a sadistic army of cultists bent on equality or death, all under the direction of their mysterious Messiah and Declan's nemesis, Carlo Varga. A showdown for the ages is in store for The Sons of Thunder, because Declan is bringing hell to their doorstep.

The Revolution Starts Now.

"Fantastic! A high-octane, uber-violent blend of

 cyberpunk and splatterpunk...Blade Runner meets Road

 Warrior." - Mike Duke, author of the AMALGAM series.

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads

Death is something a man earns.

Sawyer Declan had more than earned his, though it had been denied him in the end. He supposed most would be thankful for the opportunity, to be wrenched from the abyss and dragged back into the light, just to be alive. But Declan’s life had ended fifteen years ago, blown apart into so many pieces that reconstruction and augmentation were out of the question.

There still needed to be brain activity for it to work. He’d been blown apart too—at the same time his life was ending—but he’d been the lucky one, at least if you’d asked anyone besides Declan, that was. Even though he’d lost an entire arm and leg, the lower half of the other leg, an eye, and his organs had been mostly shredded, there had still been brain activity, and the self-described benevolent entity that owned The City and everything and everyone in it had swooped in and saved his body, even though his life was gone.

Fucking monsters.

A woman on one of the stages was humping a chrome pole with her naked crotch and whipping her breasts for a collage of men and women gathered around, most holding cred sticks in the air. She blew a kiss to one of them, and they swiped their stick over the scanner for tips.

Another woman was in a suspended, transparent cylinder, pressing a pair of gargantuan breasts against the glass, smooshing them into something that resembled fried eggs from a chicken the size of a bus. The rest of her was big, too, but she had no fewer congregants than the thin woman at the pole, cred sticks out. Even the guy at the back who stroked a phallus that had to be cybernetic to be so large—and to remain engorged for so long—was raking it in with an idiot grin on his face as eager men and women hooted and awed at his massive man-rocket.

Declan looked back to his drink, uninterested in the show, and lifted the glass to his mouth, the scent of scotch stinging his nostrils. He took a sip. His cybernetic left arm made no audible whirs of servos and moved smoothly as it manipulated the tumbler. He sat it back on the bar with a thunk and Declan pinched the bridge of his nose with his real hand, trying to push the memories away.

Push the happiness of them away. The brief joy they brought was always followed by the crushing pain of loss and the desperate desire to finally acquire what he had more than earned in service of Mothercorp. He’d tried a dozen times putting a pistol in his mouth, resting the barrel on his tongue, tasting its cold metallic tang. But he didn’t have the balls. This, too, shamed him and was thus why he spent most nights here at this out-of-the-way dive in the red-light district after a hunt. After he left another scumbag with a crushed face dead and bleeding into the sewers to be reclaimed into what the people of The City would drink in the form of water in a few days.

He ignored the prostitutes promising to make his night one to remember. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to drink. Thankfully, even though his liver, kidneys, lungs, heart, and most of his stomach and gastrointestinal tract were artificial, he could control the speed with which his liver processed alcohol. At least he could still get drunk, even if liquor and tobacco were incapable of killing him now. One more reason to drink.

Declan tapped ash from the end of his cigar into a plastisteel tray on the bar and drew a long puff. Before the smoke was even gone, he downed the rest of his scotch, seeing the girl on the pole through the bottom of the tumbler. Now she was upside down, holding herself in place with taut legs and her sex seemed to be sucked to the chrome rod. More cred sticks swiped. More tips. More disinterest from Declan.

He turned to the holocast over the bar, which showed the front of Airescorp with the ruined steps. The bodies had been cleared and they were reporting on the attack by The Sons of Thunder. The fifth such attack in the last month, and they seemed to be increasing in frequency.

Aside from a brief statement, they weren’t bothering to report much on the latest victim of who NBAN News had branded as ‘The Cyber Angel,’ a title Declan always frowned at the mention of. It wouldn’t have been the name he’d have chosen for himself. He wasn’t some hero. He was just taking out The City’s trash, unlike the corporate police, unlike anyone else. It was all he had now.

All those newscasts did was bring up memories and feelings best left forgotten or at least blurred in a bath of alcohol.

“Can you change this, Brown?” Declan asked the bartender.

The bar bot turned to him, its brown—almost rusty if you asked Declan—steel body whirring loudly with servo motors and gears, its blue LED eyes blinking off and on once.

“I am sorry, Deck,” it began with a digitized voice that nonetheless sounded apologetic, “but the proprietor of this establishment has given me orders to show our patrons the state of The City at all times and—”

Declan waved him off.

“Okay, okay. Just top me off,” he grumbled. Then, under his breath, he added, “Like anyone in here is paying attention to the state of The City.”

Brown’s waist tilted several degrees in a sort of bow, the eyes blinked out and back on, and it rose.

“Coming right up, Deck.”

Brown made his way to the back bar as Declan let his eyes lift back to the holocast. It had been a horrific attack. Nicolai Bulgakov had been surgically augmented with a bomb inside his torso, but that wasn’t all. Two-and-a-half-centimeter ball bearings—solid steel spheres—had been implanted along with the bomb, and it had been these that had caused most of the casualties.

The drone footage of Bulgakov coming apart in half a dozen directions, a beam of blue-white fire erupting from him, people’s bodies being rent and torn apart in explosions of flesh and gore, had been too much for Declan to watch, too close to the last thing he had seen as his life had been snuffed out fifteen years before.

When he had been denied the death he had so honestly earned.

Cora had been beautiful. Long, dark hair—almost black—with hazel eyes he’d once thought he would forever be lost within. She hadn’t been especially tall, but she was slender and fit, with an intoxicating smile and an utter refusal to take any shit whatsoever, which lent itself well to her not only being accepted into the Corporate Security Force Academy, but also in climbing the ranks quickly after graduation.

Declan took his tumbler in hand after Brown had refilled him and spun it lazily on its base with his cybernetic hand. The neural sensors controlling the kilos of pressure his fingers exerted were now so tuned he hardly had to consider them anymore. The more he stared at his robot arm, the more bitter he became. The more he drank, the more bitter he became. The more he went out in the dead of night, hunting the elusive man who had ended his life only to settle on cheap substitutes to put down when he couldn’t find him, well...

It all reminded him of Cora. All of it. Every time he looked in the mirror and saw the chrome eye staring back at him from his scarred left socket—the scar extended over his cheekbone and terminated above the corner of his mouth—he was sent back to that moment, that sweet, carefree moment in bed, seconds before Carlo Varga had kicked in their door and Declan’s waking hell had effectively begun.

“Fucking monsters,” he muttered with a slur under his breath before throwing back the whole scotch in one go. He swiped his cred stick over the bar’s scanner and stood to leave, his legs uneven for a moment. His left eye twitched, his liver began processing the alcohol faster, and within a few seconds, he felt better. But this feeling was short-lived.

“Sawyer Declan,” a woman’s voice came to his ears—a familiar voice, one he had not heard in many years—and the blood chilled in his veins. “You’re a hard man to find.”

He turned slowly, the hairs on his neck curling out, erect and tingling, his breaths barely moving any air into his artificial lungs. His pulse accelerated as she came into view, and he grabbed the edge of the bar as he blinked, not believing what his eyes were telling him.

It was like staring at a ghost.

 Chris Miller is a native Texan and award - winning author of more than fifteen books in horror, suspense, crime, sci - fi, and more, including the Amazon - bestselling Splatter Western, Dust, which was nominated for a Splatterpunk Award, Shattered Skies, also nominated for the Splatterpunk Award, one - third of the collection Cerberus Rising, nominated for two Splatterpunk Awards, and many more. His novel The Damned Ones was winner of the Home Grown Horror Award in 2021.

Chris is also featured in dozens of anthologies. Father to three beautiful

 children, he lives in Winnsboro, Texas.

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

#DystopianBooks #Scifibooks #sciencefiction #Cyberpunk #actionbooks #Splatterpunk #adventurebooks #books #readers #reading #booklovers #booktok #bookbuzz #bookboost #BookPromo #AuthorPromo #BookBlogger #Bookstagram #bookish #bookclub #MustRead

#Writersofinstagram #AmReading #BookTour #Giveaway #writingcommunity #readerscommunity 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$50 Amazon

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Private License by Kevin Doyle Book Review Tour!

PRIVATE LICENSE

Kevin R. Doyle

GENRE:  Mystery

About Private License 

All Lorie Jones wants is a little help with her divorce. Some extra information, a bit of ammunition to take into court against her no-good husband. And when she hires the biggest and best investigation firm Kansas City has to offer, that’s exactly what she gets. But after their operative wraps up Lori’s case, he decides he doesn’t want to move on, and Lori soon realizes that she’s got an even bigger problem than she had before, one that threatens her privacy, and maybe even her life.

It’s up to Sam Quinton, one-man detective agency, to take on the largest firm in the business, and as Sam digs into the background of Lori’s harasser, he soon finds something bigger, and much more dangerous, than one overzealous guy who just can’t let go.  

Read an Excerpt

Lorie hadn’t reported the latest invasion of her home. Maybe she was tired of running to the police and getting nothing accomplished, but when I considered the last intrusion and threatening note had happened before Karyn Roberts had suggested coming to me, my stomach fluttered a bit. 

“Not exactly the kind of stuff you go to local cops for,” I said. “No offense.”

Sloan grunted. “None taken, mainly because you’re right. And actually, she didn’t initially bother us with the first two incidents.”

I nodded. “It was the third went over the top for her.”

“Yeah.” Sloan closed the file. “Which kind of fits because messing around with someone’s home is cop business. The rest of it lies with the post office and the banking people.”

“So what did you do?”

“About what?” Sloan looked up at me. 

I sighed and managed to keep myself from shaking my head. And here we’d been getting along so well. “Did you look into her allegations?”

“These would be the allegations that a respected employee of a respected firm in the city was screwing around with her mind and emotions.”

“No,” I said, dropping my voice an octave or so. “Those would be the allegations a licensed private investigator, an ex-cop at that, was harassing and intimidating his own client.”

“You implying somehow we slow walked this because the guy she mentioned used to be a cop?”

Author

A retired high-school teacher and former college instructor, Kevin R. Doyle is the author of four novels in the Sam Quinton mystery series, all published by Camel Press.

He’s also written four crime thrillers, including And the Devil Walks Away and The Anchor, and one horror novel, The Litter, along with numerous short horror stories published in small magazines over the years.

The first Quinton book, Squatter’s Rights, was nominated for the 2021 Shamus award for Best First PI Novel, and the fifth in the series, Private License, will be out in August of 2024. 

Author Links

http://kevindoylefiction.com

http://www.facebook.com/kevindoylefiction

Purchase

Amazon

Kevin R. Doyle will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift

card to a randomly drawn winner.

a Rafflecopter giveaway