Taming Her Heart by Bree Westland Release Blitz! #authorbreewestland #tamingherheart #ruggedpeaksseries

 

When a ghost from the past shocks the clan, Leslie Beckett, guardian of the long-awaited prophecy, is left with no choice but to plot a way forward. Tyler Jackson becomes a welcome distraction, igniting feelings Leslie is unprepared for. 

Meanwhile, the rogue fae are quietly claiming the minds of loved ones in their own quest for the elusive prophecy. Readers who enjoy brother’s best friend and tortured heroes who fall first tropes will devour Taming Her Heart by Bree Westland, a steamy fated mates romance.

 

Earning her place among them was the easy part. 

Leslie Beckett had been the glue holding her family together since her mother disappeared not long after her birth. As a witch, a dragon shifter, and the only daughter in a household of male dragon shifters, she’d had to train harder. Be the best. She’d always crave the hunt. Yet the innate tug of magic made her feel most alive.

Tyler Jackson followed his sister to Rayner, leaving his career as a police officer on Earth behind. Ditching his ties to his undercover ops position proved more difficult though. So he put those skills to work when granted a spot on the alpha’s elite team. He was nothing if not ruthlessly efficient in his role. 

  When a ghost from the past shocks the clan, nothing is as it seems. As the guardian of the long awaited prophesy, Leslie plots a way forward. Tyler is a welcome distraction, igniting feelings Leslie is unprepared for. And he can’t get the wickedly talented, pretty princess out of his head. 

Meanwhile, the rogue fae quietly claim the minds of loved ones in their own quest for the elusive prophesy. Can Leslie and Tyler’s growing bond prove stronger than the forces of fate uniting against them? *Readers can expect healthy doses of hot shifters, naughty language, and intimate time with a fated mate, all wrapped up in a happily ever after. Can be read as a standalone romance but best enjoyed in the order written.

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*Readers can expect healthy doses of hot shifters, naughty language, and intimate time with a fated mate, all wrapped up in a happily ever after. Can be read as a standalone romance but best enjoyed in the order written.

 #fatedmates #tormentedhero #protectivehero #brothersbestfriend #hefallsfirst #magic #telepathy #telepathiccharacters #foundfamily #paranormalromance #pnr #shifterromance #spicyromance #mustread #mustreadromance #ebook #bookstagram #oneclick #amazon

 Start the Rugged Peaks series → 

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Copyright 2024 @Bree Westland

The futility of his statement hit him as their eyes met and held. Leslie would always be in danger. Instinctively he understood that. Her prophetic powers would only get stronger from here on out, ensuring that she’d be an ongoing target. 

He’d just have to make it his life’s work to keep her safe because he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.

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Start the Rugged Peaks series → https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BXBMRQNJ

About Bree Westland

Hi, I’m Bree! Paranormal romance writer and lover of all things fantasy. I write steamy shifter romances with growly alpha men and the strong women who love them. Most days you can find me tucked away in my office, lost in the worlds and characters I create, listening while they tell me their stories. 

When not writing, you can catch me curled up with a hot cup of tea and my ever-growing TBR pile. I call home the sunny beaches of Jacksonville, Florida, but I love traveling as long as I can take my laptop with me!

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Uptown Flava BK Style by Shamarie Knight Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #UptownFlavaBKSyle #ShamarieKnight #

 Uptown keeps making it, and Brooklyn keeps taking it.  

Uptown Flava BK Style

by Shamarie Knight

Genre: Urban Fiction

 Uptown keeps making it, and Brooklyn keeps taking it.

The long-standing rivalry between Harlem and Brooklyn persists at the High School of Environmental Studies, where the flashy Fly Boys of Harlem and the grimy Crooklyn Crew from Brooklyn are in constant conflict.

The tension is palpable, and when their beef gets personal, the outcome of their inevitable clash is uncertain. However, one thing is sure - it will not be a pleasant sight.

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Chattering and laughter mixed with the hum of passing cars. The scent of bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches wafted as a light breeze blew. The bell rang, letting the students know the school day had begun. The Fly Boys joined the crowd of students streaming into the school building, still discussing Spades.

DeVante felt the energy pulsating through the hallways. Lockers slammed shut, and students rushed to their classrooms, exchanging quick hellos and good mornings. Chatter echoed off the walls, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the nearby vending machines.

 “Hey, DeVante,” one of his classmates called out. “What’s up, man?”

 “Not much,” DeVante replied. “Just trying to make it through the day.”

 “Yeah, same here,” the classmate said. “I heard we have a pop quiz in English today. Did you study?”

DeVante shrugged. “A little bit. But honestly, I’m just ready for lunch. You know what I’m saying?”

 The two chuckled as they went their separate ways, and DeVante continued down the hall, making his way to his first-period class, Math. The floors were polished to a shine, and the walls were adorned with motivational posters and student artwork.

 “Good morning, class,” the teacher greeted as DeVante sat. “I hope everyone had a great weekend.”

 As the teacher began the lesson, the room was filled with pencils scratching against paper and the occasional rustling of notebooks. DeVante tried his best to focus, but his mind kept wandering to his top client in school, his girlfriend, and the Spades game he planned to play during lunch.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and DeVante hurriedly left to earn cash and visit his girlfriend, Sadira. DeVante walked through the High School for Environmental Studies halls and was met with a flurry of activity. The sound of lockers slamming shut, the chatter of students discussing their weekend plans, and the occasional shout of a teacher trying to maintain order all blended in a symphony of noise.

The air was thick with the scent of adolescent sweat and perfume, and the fluorescent lights overhead cast an artificial glow that added to the harshness of the environment. Students rushed past DeVante, some with their heads down and their backpacks slung over their shoulders, while others walked with a confident swagger that suggested they owned the place.

Shamarie Knight was born and raised in East Harlem, New York, and after graduating from the High School for Environmental Studies in 2000, he decided to continue his education at the Borough of Manhattan Community College (BMCC) to study Business. Later, Shamarie transferred to City College of New York in 2005, where he pursued a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and Science with a minor in Creative Writing, which he completed in 2009.

Throughout my life, I have always been passionate about writing. I draw inspiration from various mediums such as television shows, movies, music, music videos, and books. Writing allows me to express myself freely on paper and share my ideas. It's not just a hobby but a way of life for me. If you want to read more of my work, you can check out some of my other pieces on Medium.com. Be blessed, and stay safe.

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The Maiden of Florence by Katherine Mezzacappa Blog Tour!

 The Maiden of Florence

'My defloration was talked about in all the courts of Europe. The Prince boasted of his prowess, even as preparations were being made for his wedding, as boldly as if he had ridden across that causeway with bloodstained sheet tied to his lance.' 

1584, Italy: Twenty-year-old Giulia expects she will live and die incarcerated as a silk weaver within the walls of her Florentine orphanage, where she has never so much as glimpsed her own face. This all changes with the visit of the Medici family's most trusted advisor, promising her a generous dowry and a husband if she agrees to a small sacrifice that will bring honour and glory to her native city. 

Vincenzo Gonzaga, libertine heir to the dukedom of Mantua, wants to marry the Grand-Duke of Tuscany's eldest daughter, but the rumours around his unconsummated first marriage must be silenced first. Eager for a dynastic alliance that will be a bulwark against the threat of Protestant heresy beyond the Alps, the Pope and his cardinals turn a blind eye to a mortal sin.A powerful #MeToo story of the Renaissance, based on true events.

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The Maiden of Florence

The heroine’s husband was effectively blackmailed and bribed into marrying her, after she was deflowered as a proof of virility by the heir to the city-state of Mantua and had a child by him. Here she tells him about her upbringing in the Innocenti and then in the grim Dominican-run orphanage of the Pietà in Florence, where the girls were not allowed to speak to each other or own anything that was wholly theirs, and were made to weave for the silk guild of Florence to earn their keep. Hundreds of children a year were abandoned to Renaissance Florence’s orphanages. A wealthy man might decide to keep an illegitimate son, but was much less likely to want his daughter.

I could see she wanted to tell me more about her life behind those walls, the privations, the silences, the cruelty. She had never been able to tell anyone.

‘If a piece of cloth was spoiled,’ she said, ‘the girl that did it would not eat that day. She would stand instead in the corner of the refectory with the damaged material draped about her neck. Any girl who felt sorry for her and tried to take food to her would be punished too.’

‘Were you?’

‘Punished? No, though just being there was a punishment. I was too careful, too fearful. The worst for me was not having anything of my own, not ever. Our clothes were all the same: plain white garments, unmarked, so I’d have to wear whatever shapeless old sack came back from laundering, with a rope like a friar’s tied around the waist.’

She hesitated. ‘There was a young priest all of us girls loved, though he never spoke to us, and to my delight I saw him wearing one of those…’

‘Chasubles?’

‘Yes. One I had made, I with three companions.’

To my surprise I felt the smallest twinge of jealousy at the mention of this first man my wife had loved.

‘I don’t suppose he ever spared a thought for the unknown girls whose fingers were pricked and calloused from those stiff filaments – our eyes ached with the strain. We went to Mass every morning and were confessed three times a week, but it was always the palsied old chaplain who heard us – Don Alessandro. He would pinch us just here…’ she said, passing her hand fleetingly over her breast, ‘…whenever he thought the Prioress was not looking – we hated him.’

‘Confession three times a week? What on earth did you find to say, shut up in there?’

‘I spoke of my longing to be outside, to walk the streets freely – even the begging I had done with Tommasa felt like freedom by then – to have something that was my own. I don’t even mean fine things, but a room all to myself, with a door, without having to hear other girls snoring, weeping, farting in their sleep. I think making us sleep in that dormitory was one of the ways they encouraged vocations – not a spiritual longing, but the longing for a cell to sleep in undisturbed.’

I understood this, thinking of where I had lodged before our marriage. How could such small things be considered sins?

‘Of course the pious women who ran that place thought Don Alessandro a man of great Christian charity. When a girl called Anna complained of him, it was she who was punished.’ Giulia shivered. ‘She was brought into the refectory where we were all standing waiting to say grace, and was made to kneel before the Prioress’s table, and we were told to turn and face her. The old sister in charge of the habits pulled the veil and wimple and linen cap from her head, and her black hair fell down in great matted hanks. We were only able to wash our heads, and our bodies, once every two months, though we were in trouble if our clothes were not clean, white though they were. It was unavoidable then, but I can no longer bear the reek of unwashed flesh.’

I smiled. ‘I know! I heard Deodata exclaiming to the baker that you expected her to bathe from top to toe every Saturday evening, and that she was afraid she would catch her death of it.’

‘She will become accustomed to it.’

‘And your companion?’

‘Anna? The prioress said that she was to be punished for “speaking of matters that pertain only to the married state, and for having spoken ill of a good and holy man.” The sewing sister brought her shears and hacked the hair from Anna’s head in great uneven lumps. Anna knelt there crying with those black locks strewn around her. We owned nothing in that place, not so much as a pin, but a girl’s hair was her own, the one gift – other than chastity – that each one might hope to bring to a man as his bride. We always ate in silence, but our silence was different that evening – a hundred and fifty girls stiff with horror and shame at what we had witnessed, whilst Anna sobbed and snuffled unceasingly – the very smallest ones cried with her. I longed to go and wipe her poor face, clean the mess that coursed from her nose. I could eat little and was cuffed for it. She was not to eat at all. She was taken from the refectory before we were dismissed, and we found her in her cot in the dormitory when we went up, still crying in the darkness. During the night I crept to her and stroked her face, and I was not the only one, but if we had been seen by the Prioress’s assistants, we too would have been punished, for we were not allowed to touch each other. Even in the Innocenti there had been hugs: Tommasa was always embracing me.

‘When he was at last in his coffin we were made to kiss the old goat who had cost Anna her hair. We were told to shed tears over the corpse’s hands and feet. I screwed up my eyes but could not force tears to come, though spit gathered in my mouth. I leaned over the dead body without touching it, holding my breath. I whispered: “You are not worth even my curse.”’

Listening to her, I saw where my duty lay, yet it was not onerous. This woman deserved to be loved; she had been starved too long of kindness.

Katherine Mezzacappa is an Irish writer of mainly historical fiction, currently living in Italy. She has published several novels under pen names with publishers Bonnier Zaffre and eXtasy.

 She works as a manuscript assessor for The Literary Consultancy. Katherine reviews for Historical Novel Society’s quarterly journal and is one of the organisers of the Society’s 2022 UK conference. In her spare time she volunteers with a used book charity of which she is a founder member.

Social Media Links 

Twitter

https://twitter.com/katmezzacappa

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/katherinemezzacappafiction/

https://katherinemezzacappa.ie/

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Win a vintage postcard, early 1900s, of the babies from the façade of the Innocenti orphanage. (Open INT)

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Irresistible Freedom Land of the Free Book 1 by Mimi Barbour! @SilverDaggerBookTours

 

 To escape the dysfunction of city life, Demi Fedora leaves behind

 everything she knows to move to her deceased grandfather’s derelict

 cabin in the wilds of Alaska. There she encounters true adversity that

 puts her life in danger more than once.  

Irresistible Freedom

Land of the Free Book 1

by Mimi Barbour

Genre

Romantic Suspense, Adventure

 Escape… a new beginning.

That’s what Demi Fedora yearns for. And so, she leaves everything and everyone she knows to move to her deceased grandfather’s derelict cabin in the wilds of Alaska, the one he left her in his will.

Meeting Whittaker Hart isn’t in her plans. Though the ruggedly handsome gold prospector does everything to win her over, she keeps her distance until her need to survive a life totally foreign to her nature overcomes her desire to do everything herself.

After rescuing a young drunk and taking on the tough life of a greenhorn, she realizes one thing. Between fixing up the place to make it livable for the coming winter and learning how to exist in a land filled with vicious storms and treacherous wildfires, she can’t cope alone.

No matter how much she yearns for independence, she needs help…. a lot of help.

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Unforgettable Freedom

Land of the Free Book 2

 Demi has been consistently warned that the northern winter would be perilous, yes. Yet nothing in her wildest imagination could prepare her for the reality. In book two, she will go through incredible and frightening adventures where the little bastard (as she calls her wild wolf pup) will be instrumental in not only driving her crazy but saving her life… more than once.

Her ongoing belief that Whit will survive being lost in the fire he and Glen went to fight becomes a huge conflict. She refuses to accept any other ending… but should she?

And Glen, the young native friend she saved in book #1, will be a challenge that can’t be ignored. Life isn’t easy by any means. Thankfully, the awe-inspiring land, many call God’s country, has a way of soothing those in need.

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Ultimate Freedom

Land of the Free Book 3

 Conquering conflicts and battles, Demi and her Alaskan family face more unexpected adventures. Battling for her life is just the beginning. Before she has a chance to catch her breath, she’s deep in a fight for her best friend’s future.

Nothing comes easy in this wild country. Even with the support of the handsome gold prospector, her new brother, and her wolf, life in the North continues to challenge her every step of the way.
If she fights with everything in her, will she finally find the peaceful existence she craves?

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Irresistible Freedom:

            From time to time, Demi sense that reality was just on the other side of her closed eyelids, but she refused to let it in. Instead, she soaked in the sensation of floating. Maybe she did it as a defense from having to face the brutality again. She didn’t know. When she heard voices, she pretended not to.

Periodically, she felt a cool cloth on her face, washing it and bathing the swelling that had finally stopped burning. Hands would also clear away her hair from tangling around her shoulders. Gentle hands. Hands that soothed and made her sigh with contentment. She loved those hands.

Only when the room was empty did she finally allow herself to open her eyes. Darkness surrounded her, and she loved the safety of concealment. Hadn’t that been her go-to as a young girl after that brutal attack when she was thirteen?

If it hadn’t been for Tanner, her foster brother and best friend at the time, who knows what might have happened. He’d taught her to fight back. Given her the confidence she’d needed to care enough to do so. He’d instilled in her a spirit of battle where one didn’t give up. And she hadn’t… not during that fight. It’s what saved her.

But afterwards, when she’d hidden for days in any dark space she could crawl into, that’s when she’d let her weakness take over. Tears of self-pity had poured out until she’d drained them all. Then began the questioning to God of why her? Why had it happened? What had she done?

Eventually, Tanner had found her hiding spot and asked her why she’d run away. She hadn’t been able to talk about it then. Though confused by her behavior and more than willing to take on her demons, he’d finally taken her at her word that she was fine and dropped the subject.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she arched her body, the discomfort beginning to make itself felt. It’s then she sensed she wasn’t alone. A tall figure came to her side of the bed and had seen her eyes open before she could pretend she hadn’t woke up.

Whit sat carefully on the side of her bed, his hand reaching out to gently push her hair over her shoulder. “How are you?”

In this atmosphere of safety, she couldn’t find her battle gear, her sarcasm, or her uncaring, pissy attitude. In a small voice, she whimpered. “I must be a bad person. If not, then why do I seem to draw all these maniacs into my world?”

“No way, Demi. You’re the bravest, most beautiful soul I’ve met in a long, long time. I don’t know what happened in your past, and if you want to share, I’d be happy to listen.”

She shook her head. “I was terrified.”

“Yet you still attacked that killer to save Glen and me. We’ll never forget it.”

His voice mesmerized and seemed like the balm her sadness needed. She reached for him, her good arm winding around his lowered head. She peered into eyes that shone in the dimness, shone with a light that made her feel good. Actually, better than good. He made her feel happy to be alive.

Moments passed where they just took their time to search… to gaze. All she saw was hunger. She pulled him closer, needing the touch of caring to wipe away that stench of hate.

When he lowered his mouth to gently caress hers, she let him. In fact, she’d unconsciously reached for his lips. And when they met, she knew such gladness. All the loneliness disappeared. She was alive. And she was desired.

Her arm tightened more, pulling him closer. From time to time, she’d sense that reality was just on the other side of her closed eyelids, but she refused to let it in. Instead, she soaked in the sensation of floating. Maybe she did it as a defense from having to face the brutality again. She didn’t know. When she heard voices, she pretended not to.

Periodically, she felt a cool cloth on her face, washing it and bathing the swelling that had finally stopped burning. Hands would also clear away her hair from tangling around her shoulders. Gentle hands. Hands that soothed and made her sigh with contentment. She loved those hands.

Only when the room was empty did she finally allow herself to open her eyes. Darkness surrounded her, and she loved the safety of concealment. Hadn’t that been her go-to as a young girl after that brutal attack when she was thirteen?

If it hadn’t been for Tanner, her foster brother and best friend at the time, who knows what might have happened. He’d taught her to fight back. Given her the confidence she’d needed to care enough to do so. He’d instilled in her a spirit of battle where one didn’t give up. And she hadn’t… not during that fight. It’s what saved her.

But afterwards, when she’d hidden for days in any dark space she could crawl into, that’s when she’d let her weakness take over. Tears of self-pity had poured out until she’d drained them all. Then began the questioning to God of why her? Why had it happened? What had she done?

Eventually, Tanner had found her hiding spot and asked her why she’d run away. She hadn’t been able to talk about it then. Though confused by her behavior and more than willing to take on her demons, he’d finally taken her at her word that she was fine and dropped the subject.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she arched her body, the discomfort beginning to make itself felt. It’s then she sensed she wasn’t alone. A tall figure came to her side of the bed and had seen her eyes open before she could pretend she hadn’t woke up.

Whit sat carefully on the side of her bed, his hand reaching out to gently push her hair over her shoulder. “How are you?”

In this atmosphere of safety, she couldn’t find her battle gear, her sarcasm, or her uncaring, pissy attitude. In a small voice, she whimpered. “I must be a bad person. If not, then why do I seem to draw all these maniacs into my world?”

“No way, Demi. You’re the bravest, most beautiful soul I’ve met in a long, long time. I don’t know what happened in your past, and if you want to share, I’d be happy to listen.”

She shook her head. “I was terrified.”

“Yet you still attacked that killer to save Glen and me. We’ll never forget it.”

His voice mesmerized and seemed like the balm her sadness needed. She reached for him, her good arm winding around his lowered head. She peered into eyes that shone in the dimness, shone with a light that made her feel good. Actually, better than good. He made her feel happy to be alive.

Moments passed where they just took their time to search… to gaze. All she saw was hunger. She pulled him closer, needing the touch of caring to wipe away that stench of hate.

When he lowered his mouth to gently caress hers, she let him. In fact, she’d unconsciously reached for his lips. And when they met, she knew such gladness. All the loneliness disappeared. She was alive. And she was desired.

Her arm tightened more, pulling him closer.

NYT & USA Today, best-selling, award-winning author, MIMI BARBOUR, has

 nine romance series to her credit. She also has a new Trilogy, many single

 titles and a huge number of box sets – her own and multi-author collections.

Mimi lives on the East coast of Vancouver Island with her small dog, Charli,

 and writes her various romances with tongue in cheek and a mad glint in

 her eye. She’s been known to say: “If I can steal a booklover’s attention

 away from their everyday grind, absorb them into a fantasy love story,

 and make them care about the ending, then I’ve done my job.”

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Faeries Don’t Lie Heart of the Worlds Book 1 by TF Burke Book Blast! @SilverDaggerBookTours #FaeriesDontLie #HeartofTHeWorlds @tfburkeauthor

Faeries Don’t Lie

Heart of the Worlds Book 1

by TF Burke

Cover by Cristina Tanase

Genre: YA Epic Fantasy

Can Two Worlds Survive an Augury?

Releasing a Chandarion’s god-like magic into the world isn’t what sixteen-year-old Aunia, the village’s outcast, intends. She only wants to impress Mathias, a visiting seventeen-year-old pegasus flyer, who fiercely believes the choice—either Faery or Mortal world surviving—has come.

Her action calls forth the Boggleman, a soul-sucking ghoul, who abducts her dad, eats her faery friends, and sets Dagel demons on her isolated village. And worse.

The worlds of Ahnu-Endynia are full of faeries, pegasi flyers, myths, secrets, and themes of belonging, despite being misunderstood. And if you don't watch carefully . . . You might be pulled into the Betwixt. . . the space between the worlds.

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TF Burke currently works with NYT David Farland’s Apex-Writers as an admin and marketing specialist, where she schedules industry leaders for weekly multi-Zoom calls, provides content for social posts, and hosts several writer-focused Zooms.

Her published works includes hundreds of newspaper articles, blog posts across various platforms, anthologies, including MURDERBUGS, the second volume of the Unhelpful Encyclopediam a collection of short stories in WHIRL OF THE FAE, and the first book of the Heart of the Worlds Series, FAERIES DON’T LIE.

When not writing or wearing other hats, she can be found with a sword and a dagger in her hands for medieval-style fencing tournaments and melees, something she’s been doing since 2010.

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#CoverReveal #YAFantasybooks #Yabooks #fantasybooks #Faeries  #books #readers #reading #booklovers #booktok #bookbuzz #bookboost #BookPromo #AuthorPromo  #BookBlogger #Bookstagram #bookish #bookclub #MustRead #Writersofinstagram #AmReading #BookTour #Giveaway #writingcommunity #readerscommunity 

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