Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Author, blog, Book, Giveaway, Paranormal Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Story, Tour, Writer

Beneath the Night by Jen Colly – Book Tour + #Giveaway

27/04/17

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BENEATH THE NIGHT
by Jen Colly
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Pub date: 4/25/2017
Genre: Paranormal Romance
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Sometimes survival means surrendering everything . . .
Lord Navarre Casteel wakes from a long sleep to
find the vampire city he rules forever changed and his future in the
hands of a mysterious beauty who offers her life for his.
Fiery-haired Cat survives his feeding, fueling Navarre’s body and
mind—as well as his suspicion that she is one of the Forbidden—a
lethal mix of vampire and human blood. Yet that doesn’t stop the
throb of Navarre’s desire, the feeling that she is destined to be
his mate, to hell with consequences. . . .
A solitary fighter sworn to protect the
children in her charge, Cat never expects to feel so much for Navarre
in the face of his savage feeding. Which is why his offer of
protection is nearly her undoing. For how can she let down her guard
when she has always walked alone? But Cat has never faced an enemy
like the one she faces now, never felt such a powerful need to
surrender to the force of love . . .
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btn- excerpt
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Chapter 1

 

Peace. He didn’t care for the word, didn’t believe in its existence. The

concept seemed possible, and certainly desired, but he’d yet to witness it

in his own life. Even when Balinese had been under Lord Navarre’s rule,

the city prospering and harmonious, Devlin Savard had not been at peace.

Savard glanced over his shoulder for the second time tonight. Something

had him on edge. He scanned the tree line at his back. Nothing.

From where he stood, high on a hillside, the impressive château below him

seemed somehow benign. Yet it concealed the entrance to Balinese, a vast

underground city of vampires. The forest surrounding the château took it a

step further, cloaking the stone structure from any who might wander near.

Winter was well on the way, and though snow had yet to fall, it would

come soon enough. The château had been sealed and prepped months ago,

and only in the last few weeks had the chill of the night permeated the

ground and seeped into the city below.

Savard cocked his head slightly. A low ripple of energy in the air sent

his senses on high alert, rousing survival instincts that had refused to fade

over time. Someone, or something, approached.

He curled his fingers around the hilt of his sword, but then the shift in

energy became substantial and settled at his right side. Heavy, like waves

on the ocean. Then, though the air around him was already cold, a chilled

patch of air pushed toward him.

“Report,” Savard commanded. Keir dropped out of his invisible Spirit

form and appeared at Savard’s right.

“You’re damn hard to sneak up on,” Keir said, and then suddenly

thinking better of his words, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Not

that I was sneaking.”

Savard nodded, but said nothing. It was best others didn’t know how

Savard’s talents worked, especially when he knew of no other who possessed

a similar gift. In Spirit, Keir moved with a certain high-energy fluidity,

something Savard had yet to encounter in another vampire, and was

easily recognizable.

Finally glancing at the man who had joined him, Savard asked,

“What did you find?”

“Nothing,” Keir said, supremely confident in his own abilities.

Savard simply nodded.

“I give you the same answer every night. Seven years of nothing. You’re

not paying me to say ‘nothing’ to you every night.” Keir scratched his chin,

the goatee darkening his already sinister look. “You bought my loyalty.”

“Have I?”

Keir cracked a grin. “Yeah, you have.”

“Perhaps.” Savard looked over his shoulder, once again peering deep into

the forest, but still finding nothing amiss. “One day your answer will change.”

“And when it does?”

“Then everything will change,” Savard said, his tone even, expectant.

Savard would have been a fool to not at least attempt to buy Keir’s loyalty,

and so far it had paid off. The man was an ace in his pocket. While Savard’s

own ability to travel in Spirit was extensive, Keir’s was unsurpassed.

Since the phenomenon of traveling in Spirit only seemed to surface

when a vampire was caught in a fight-or-flight situation, Guardians tended

to be the most likely to possess the ability. The species had lived in peace

for centuries, and few had experienced even a small taste of taking Spirit.

Once the trick of walking in Spirit was learned, it was simple to duplicate,

though most couldn’t advance beyond several feet in this invisible form.

Some grew physically ill should they pass through an object. The process

also seemed to deplete the body so extensively that most vampires needed

to feed soon after traveling in Spirit.

Not only could Keir travel great distances and pass through multiple

structures with ease, he could linger in Spirit for nearly an hour. Invisible

and undetectable, he was the perfect spy. Having Keir on his side had been

useful, and on occasion, life-saving.

“Same time again tomorrow?” Savard asked.

Keir shook his head, smiling just a little. “And again and again.”

The radio at Savard’s hip popped with static and Steffen’s voice came

through, sounding hollow as it floated away on the chilled night breeze.

“Several animals were just spooked.”

Savard searched the edge of the forest surrounding the château and

saw nothing. Whatever movement Steffen noted had settled back into

the safety of the trees. He gripped the radio in his hand, brought it to

his lips. “Where?”

“North forest. Deer.”

The north forest was at his left, the château his right. A call concerning

the north forest made him nervous. The entrance to the château, the gate,

faced north. In the recent past, his Gatekeepers had occasionally reported

the night going silent, or animals fleeing the woods. They’d come to

associate these signs with the presence of demons.

“Damn it. If the deer are moving at this hour, then something deep in

the forest disturbed them,” Savard said as he switched radio channels.

“Briona! I have Keir. I need two more Guardians at the gate. Now!”

“Already on their way!” the cheeky little half-Irish dispatcher yelled.

“Move your arse, m’lord.”

Savard broke into a run, Keir at his side, racing down the hill toward

the château. The disturbance warranted an investigation. If demons had

made their way onto the property yet again, his Guardians would engage,

but it was near dawn and he risked the sun, and their lives.

He checked his watch. They’d have a tight timeline to work within, but

thanks to Briona, they’d have a chance. A few years ago, Briona had barged

into his office and promised she was the answer to problems he didn’t know

he had. She’d been right. Briona was a technical genius. Whatever it was

she did in that little room surrounded by buttons and wires, she did well.

She’d boosted his Guardians’ response time, increased overall efficiency,

created a number system for different high-priority zones in the city, and

became adept at predicting situations and reactions.

Briona listened to all Guardian radio chatter, often making the call for

backup before a Guardian could ask for help. She’d saved lives, and she’d

been on top of this situation as well. No doubt the men Savard trusted at

his side would already be waiting for him.

The door to the château was in sight. His Gatekeepers, Steffen and Ivan,

stood guarding the entrance to Balinese. As Savard and Keir approached,

Osric and Titus emerged from the château. No one spoke. Steffen simply

pointed to the forest where he’d seen the deer in flight.

Savard nodded to his Guardians, and they vanished, as did he. Moving

effortlessly up the hillside, speeding toward the woods, Savard floated

unseen, like a ghost over the grass. He couldn’t see his men, nor they him.

Titus would hold the west. He was young, but the extent of his abilities

so great that his careless and cocky attitude was rarely a hindrance. When

Titus put a man down, he stayed down.

Osric was a recluse, his main goal to hide the rippled burn scar that ran

from high on his cheek down the side of his face and neck, disappearing

beneath his shirt collar. He only emerged from his home as a Guardian,

and he served his city well. Osric would take the east.

And Keir? As a former assassin, he’d have the north well in hand. Savard’s

personal bodyguard was without question an exceedingly capable Guardian.

Savard took the southern position, cutting off the direct path to Balinese.

He would stay in Spirit. An observer. As lord, he was not to engage in

combat unless necessary.

Traveling in Spirit had definite advantages, one of which was speed.

Savard easily raced over the dense forest floor, through trees. His passing

startled only a few small rodents.

In a clearing just ahead, nearly a dozen men sat in a circle and focused

on their leader with eyes glowing red in the dark. Demons.

Attacking a group while in Spirit was underhanded, and in most cases,

a guaranteed win. The expertise in this sort of warfare belonged to

the assassin. Without making so much as a whisper of sound, his men

surrounded the demons and waited for Keir’s command.

Savard kept his distance from the demons, as would the others, until

signaled. He had no problem holding his Spirit this night, and Titus never

wavered, but Osric couldn’t linger in this state for much longer. They

needed to attack soon.

What does Keir wait for?

Then Savard felt a ripple as the assassin passed near, or maybe through,

his Spirit. It was Keir’s way of pinpointing their locations, confirming they

were in position. Seconds passed. Still, Keir waited.

“We enter through the front gate at dawn. Only two guard the door,”

one of the demons said, its red eyes glimmering oddly in the night. “Even

if we catch them in the middle of switching shifts and their numbers are

doubled, it’ll be easy to get by such a small group.”

Grunts followed, acknowledging their leader.

Suddenly the blond demon sat tall and rigid, its eerie red eyes searching

the surrounding trees. “I feel…”

Several other demons stilled, shared glances. The man in charge finished

the sentence. “Like the night air has changed.”

“It has, demon,” Keir said, his body still invisible, his distorted words

floating through the cold night, everywhere and nowhere.

The assassin appeared behind the blond demon. Keir’s wild, curly hair

and goatee lent him a wickedly sinister look. And that smile of his. That

nasty gotcha smile. In one quick, clean motion, Keir sliced the demon’s

throat, then disappeared again.

Demons scrambled to their feet, drawing swords. Osric dropped from

Spirit first, drove his shoulder into the nearest demon like a linebacker,

and knocked it to the ground. He ignored the downed demon, bent on

sinking his sword into the next, much larger foe.

Titus appeared beside the demon Osric had just knocked down. Flipping

his grip on the hilt of his sword, Titus took only a moment to jab the blade

through the fallen demon’s chest, barely sparing it a glance. Ducking

under the sweeping blade of an approaching demon, he spun to catch it

across the torso, then left it incapacitated on the ground to search for a

more active target.

Keir was surrounded, but he seemed to like it that way, taunting those

red-eyed creatures. He’d leave himself open to their attack, then move with

an uncanny speed to slice through major arteries left and right, weakening

those he didn’t have time to kill.

Titus took on two, using anything at his disposal, be it sword, elbow,

hilt, or head. The vicious physicality of his fighting style made Savard

wonder why the young vampire never brought his teeth out to play.

Savard scanned the scene before him, desperate to remain in the here

and now, to be mentally present for his Guardians. The chaos of swords

hitting in repetition, of men grunting and yelling in the throes of battle

messed with Savard’s head, threatened to throw his mind back to a different

time and place. Making a sincere effort to block the sounds, he focused on

movement instead. Short, contained blows from his Guardians suggested

everything was well in hand.

Then a demon broke away from the center of the battle and threaded

through the melee, its sights set on Osric. The Guardian’s sole focus was on

the big bastard he was trying to take down. He didn’t see the demon coming.

Savard, still in Spirit, moved to intercept. He appeared, sword drawn

and braced for impact. Clotheslined, its head nearly severed, the demon

never saw Savard.

Now visible, Savard turned to fight anyone left standing. Only two

demons remained, each engaged with a Guardian and fighting for their

lives. Keir stalked through the battlefield, checked the downed bodies for

signs of life, but suddenly he stopped, stood motionless. Savard felt it too.

The telltale tingle at the back of his neck signaled the rising of the sun.

Savard assessed their now-urgent situation. Osric had taken down his

demon. Titus battled the last. Weapons lost, the two were face-to-face,

throwing punches, wrestling for higher ground.

Keir was on the move before Savard could say a word. Knife bared,

Keir came up behind the last demon and sank his blade deep into its back.

Titus shot Keir an angry glare. “What gives?”

“We don’t have time for this. Not anymore.” Keir stepped back and the

demon slipped off his blade, crumpled to the ground.

“He’s right,” Savard said, sending a short nod in Keir’s direction. “Drag

the bodies east, outside the tree line.”

Osric and Titus shared a concerned glance, but it was Titus who spoke.

“You want them to burn in the sun? Let their ash become part of our earth,

their evil seep into our lands?”

“Do you know how long it will take the four of us to drag twelve men

back to the city, remove their heads, encase them in coffins, and bury them

deep?” Savard didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed a demon’s ankle and

began hauling it through the forest. “We have no other options, no time

to appease an ancient superstition, and it doesn’t take long for demons to

come back after they’ve been killed. I, for one, prefer them as ash and dust.”

The four men hauled the bodies, and the occasional detached head,

out into the open. Vampires didn’t care to admit they shared several base

similarities with demons, but they did. One of which was their inability to

dwell in sunlight. Direct exposure would cause cells to destroy themselves,

slowly at first, but once the chain reaction began, the body would combust.

A few demons still lived. Barely. The sun would finish what the

Guardians had begun.

When the last demon was dropped at the east edge of the forest, Savard

turned to his men. “Get home. Now.”

Titus vanished, as did Keir, but Osric ran. After holding his Spirit for

so long initially, Osric had nothing left to give. Damn it. He’d never make

it back before the sun claimed him.

Savard didn’t know Osric’s story, or how he’d gained those burn scars,

but being vampire there were only two possibilities: trapped by a fire

below ground or burned in the sun. If Savard didn’t help him, then the

final moments of Osric’s life would be spent burning, reliving the fear, the

pain he’d already suffered to a point of leaving him crippled inside and out.

There was no decision to make. Savard couldn’t allow Osric to die this

way, even if it meant exposing one of his unknown abilities.

Savard disappeared into Spirit and was at Osric’s side in seconds. He

released his Spirit, became corporeal just long enough to take hold of

Osric’s arm and drag the Guardian into Spirit with him. He raced home,

speeding through the trees and down the hillside, Osric in tow.

They made the shelter of Balinese just before the sun brightened the

east sky. Once inside, Osric stumbled as he fell haphazardly out of Spirit.

Savard appeared a dozen feet away from him. They shared a glance, and

for a moment Savard thought Osric would say something, point out the

impossible feat. The marred Guardian only nodded, a quick and silent thankyou.

Then all four were on the move again, headed through the kitchen,

down the back stairs, into the cellar, and through the door to Balinese.

When their feet touched the corridor that encircled the city, the men

scattered. Each went a separate way, never saying a word, and acting as if

the entire event had never happened. Unless Savard decided the skirmish

would go on public record, it hadn’t happened. He trusted these men, and

his Gatekeepers, to keep quiet and never acknowledge the incident unless

directed otherwise.

If the citizens of Balinese knew how many demons had been found

above ground on their land, or how many had entered the city, they’d never

sleep. Unless a citizen witnessed a demon, any encounters the Guardians

had with demons never officially occurred.

Savard walked alone now, taking the back route to his home. He needed

to clean up. Black demon blood had spattered across his face, dotted his

shirt. Thankfully, these exterior corridors in Balinese tended to be empty,

lit only by sconces hung high on the wall.

“M’lord?” Briona chimed through the radio.

Savard scanned the corridor. Empty. “We’re clear. Go ahead.”

“Bravo, then, you lived.” She took a breath, then pushed on as if

his survival was expected and his response unnecessary. “You wanted

notification if anyone was scheduled to enter the royal storage. Why am

I still doin’ this? Isn’t this Soren’s job, since, I don’t know, he has the

keys to the room?”

“It is. I’m just overcautious when it comes to safeguarding Navarre’s

possessions. What is Soren having removed?”

“He just sent two Guardians to collect a golden birdcage.” There was a

pause, but Savard knew better than to think Briona was finished talking.

“We’ve a birdcage?”

“No. We do not. The Casteel family was gifted with the large golden cage

from a Chinese ambassador in the late 1600s, along with an assortment

of birds. Did you fail history class?”

“Nah, slept through it. Want me to send a couple extra Guardians up to help?”

“No, I’m sure they can handle it. Make sure Soren has them log out the

cage when they return the keys to him. Thank you, Briona.”

“And now I’m your wee secretary,” she mumbled before the radio died.

Savard shook his head, almost entirely certain she’d left the radio channel

open a second longer on purpose.

He continued past the corridor leading to his home and stopped a good

four feet before the next. Taking Spirit once more, he floated up through

the ceiling. When in the room above, a large attic with angled ceilings, he

released his Spirit. This was the royal storage, and the Guardians would

be here any moment.

Treasures from all over Europe had been covered, hidden from view,

while others lay exposed, collecting layers of dust. A gold, jewel-encrusted

urn half the size of a man glinted in the dim light seeping from beneath the

door. A golden yellow chaise in Greek styling was half hidden beneath a

sheet, the craftsmanship elaborate. Yes, he grew nervous when Guardians

were scheduled to enter this room, but theft was not his fear, nor was the

handling of such priceless artifacts.

He’d have given his life to protect what was beyond the row of five

large French curio cabinets in the corner of the attic. Savard slipped into

Spirit long enough to move through a curio, and once inside the makeshift

seclusion, returned to his true form. Here, easily hidden behind the towering

cabinets, was the most priceless treasure in Balinese.

Navarre Casteel, the true lord of Balinese, lay motionless on a small

bed, trapped in a deep healing sleep. Not waking, not dying.

Navarre had fallen in the demon attack nearly seven years ago. A demon’s

blade had pierced his chest, and from what they could tell, nicked his heart.

Navarre had slipped into a healing sleep, his body shutting down to repair

from the inside out. After that point, nothing could be done to help him.

Their lord would have to heal on his own, or not at all.

Every day since, Savard expected his lord’s death, even planned for

the loss. It never happened. Months had passed. Years. Seven years of

total stillness.

Savard blamed himself. He never should have set foot inside Balinese.

Decades ago Lord Navarre had taken him in, and the people of Balinese

had hatefully labeled Savard “the stray.” They’d watched him, judged him,

from the moment he’d stepped foot inside their grand home. While the

people of the city suspected he did not belong in their rich and secluded

world, Savard knew for a fact that he did not. Navarre seemed not to

notice. Or care.

Months into his tentative stay, Navarre had placed him in command of

the city’s Guardians. Savard had objected, along with Navarre’s council,

but the lord would not be swayed.

Savard had reluctantly taken the position, and for the first time in his

life buckled his sword to his hip with a great deal of trepidation. Becoming

captain to such a great lord and legendary city had felt wrong.

Every night Lord Navarre had proudly said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Savard’s consistent response? “It’s only a matter of time before I’m gone.”

Navarre would nod, and they’d move on with life. The same conversation

repeated. At first once a day, then as time went on, once a month. After

five years Navarre had stopped triggering the conversation altogether,

never believing his captain had any intention of leaving.

Leaving was no longer an option. He had a responsibility, not just to

Navarre, but to the city Navarre loved. Savard had done everything in his

power to keep the city functioning smoothly, and to keep threats away.

But if Navarre died? If his friend left this world, then there was no reason

to care for the things Navarre had held dear, and Savard couldn’t live

surrounded by memories of yet another massive failure.

The padlock outside the door rattled, the heavy hinge laid back against

the door. Then the large wooden slide latch was moved, wood scraping

wood, until the handle hit the end of its range with a solid thud.

Savard knelt beside the bed and took his lord’s lifeless hand in both of

his, ready to weather the brief intrusion, prepared to Spirit Navarre away

should it become necessary.

The hinges on the thick door creaked as it opened. The Guardians

stepped inside, flipped on the lights. Boots scuffed the uneven floorboards

beneath their feet, and long, purposeful strides quickly carried them deeper

inside the room.

“There it is,” Dyre said, his young, smooth voice trapped in the low

ceiling of the attic. “It doesn’t appear heavy, only awkward.”

“Why are we putting an empty birdcage outside the dining hall?” Cat

said, suspicion bleeding through her tone.

The presence of these two was unexpected. As arena Guardians, Titus

and Graydon often drew the short straw, being sent on random missions

that sometimes involved moving furniture. Not today. Somehow Dyre and

Cat had taken their place.

“Don’t ask, just do,” Dyre said.

“Ugh.” She exaggerated the guttural sound. “I hate your motto. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not my motto,” Dyre said, the effort of sliding wooden furniture

across the floor temporarily halting his speech. “And you seem to like it

just fine when you’re the one barking orders.”

“Fair enough,” she said, relenting.

Savard smiled slightly, shaking his head. In public those two barely spoke

a word to each other, and after the parade of Guardian partners Cat had

gone through, he never would have thought Dyre would be the one she’d

accept. But then, Dyre was one of the few able to bring her unpredictable

temper down to at least a simmer.

“Here, take this end,” Dyre directed. “I’ll go down the stairs backward.”

“You think I can’t go backward?” Cat snapped at him, instantly geared

up for a fight, offended her partner might find her lacking.

“No,” he said calmly, his tone hinting at simple honesty. “I

think you’re short.”

If Cat gave him a response, Savard didn’t hear it. Boots scuffled across

the floor, the lights went out and the door closed, the bolt slid home, and the

padlock clunked into place. The room was left in silence once again. Savard

peeked through a crack between the dressers to make certain they’d left.

Turning Navarre’s hand over, Savard pressed his fingertips to his lord’s

exposed inner wrist. As he did with each visit, Savard searched for a pulse,

craved confirmation that Navarre still lived. Beneath his fingers, the

normally slow, lurching rhythm of Navarre’s pulse seemed to have sped

  1. Not rapid or racing, but simply stronger. This could be his body’s last

surge of energy before death. Savard looked at Navarre’s face, fearing it

might be the last time.

Navarre, still deep in a healing sleep, turned his face slightly toward

the door. He wasn’t dying. He was waking.

“Oh, God. It’s her.” Jaw slack, Savard sank back onto his heels.

He shoved his hair off his face. How had he not seen this connection?

When Cat had first arrived on the night of the attack, he hadn’t known

what to do with her. He’d put her in one of Navarre’s extra homes. That

home was on the floor beneath this attic, not terribly far from where

Navarre lay sleeping.

Most vampires could recognize the beckoning call of their fated mate.

Supposedly, though he’d never seen it happen, the presence of your mate

could even negate the deadly call of the sun. Her proximity was most likely

the only reason Navarre still clung to life. Cat must be his mate. If so, then

she was the key to Navarre’s awakening. Ironically, her continued presence

in the city was contingent upon Navarre allowing her to stay once he woke.

Plans quickly took form now that Savard at long last had a clear solution.

If Navarre’s condition was going to change, it would happen tonight. He

would make it happen tonight.

While this new development should bring elation, Savard’s skin crawled

with a morbid anticipation. Something unstoppable was happening in the

world around him, a life-altering force headed his way. He’d felt this same

unease the night he’d become lord, an awareness that he balanced at the top

of a mountain and would soon fall. He just didn’t know in which direction

*
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Jen Colly is the rare case of an author who
rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years. Now
she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing
her first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write
about anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her
weaknesses are pirates and vampires. She lives in Ohio with her
supportive husband, two kids, one big fluffy dog, and four rescued
cats.
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Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Authors, Bewitching Book Tours, blog, Book, Paranormal Romance, Story, Tour, Writer

My Defender by Alanea Alder – Book Tour + #Giveaway

27/04/17

 


My Defender

Bewitched and Bewildered

Book Eight

Alanea Alder

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Sacred Forest Publishing
Date of Publication: April 25, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-941315-18-7
ASIN: B01N18RZXY
Cover Artist: Kim Killion
Tagline: She’s been Bewitched, he’s Bewildered

Book Description:

When a mysterious illness begins to sweep through Noctem Falls affecting the children, Eleanor Kimball is called to the city to see if she can determine what is wrong. As a pediatrician Eleanor loves children and desires many of her own, however, after several dating disasters she has not only sworn off men, but has given up her dream of a family, and the promise of a destined mate.
After discovering Grant in Noctem Falls she is faced with her own insecurities and finds it hard to believe in his love.
Grant Douglas is a man of few words and doesn’t do well surrounded by others. He is scared to death of finding a mate. He believes the harshness of his past, where he struggled to survive, didn’t cultivate a gentle heart. After a series of terrifying nightmares where his mate is at risk, Grant has decided he doesn’t want a mate at all.
When he meets Ellie, he realizes there are some things worth fighting for. Even if it means putting himself out there by becoming the Alpha he was born to be and facing the power he desperately tries to hide.
As Ellie starts to believe in Grant’s love it will take every ounce their combined strength to discover why the shifter children are suddenly falling ill before it’s too late.
Amazon       Amazon UK       Amazon AU     Amazon CA

About the Author:

USA Today Best Selling Author, Alanea loves reading almost as much as she loves writing. She began writing at a very young age, some of her first scribblings are treasured in a keepsake box and written in green marker. She started when she was still in grade school and continued on through college.
She believes that love truly conquers all and that everyone no matter what, deserves a chance at that love and a place they can call home. She absolutely loves to hear from her readers so don’t hesitate to reach out to her. As always, her promise to her readers remains, “If you keep reading, I’ll keep writing!”
Website        http://alaneaalder.com/
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Her Black Soul by A.J. Norris – Book Tour

19/04/17

 

Her Black Soul
The Dark Amulet Series
Book Three
A.J. Norris
Genre: PNR
Publisher: Limitless Publishing, LLC
Date of Publication: April 11, 2017
Cover Artist: Deranged Doctor Design
Tagline: Sometimes the fight for your soul is a battle you can’t win.
Book Description:
Netherworld…
Humans call it Hell. She calls it home…
Evita the Warrior has no memory of the life she led as an angel before her fall. The only place she knows is the fiery world full of goat-demons and animal-headed beasts. Despite many opportunities to flee, she chooses to remain. 
Virgil the Redeemer lost his mate centuries ago and has given up all hope of finding her…
Accepting that Evita will never return to him, Virgil eases his loneliness in the arms of different females, refusing to get attached, though his selfish ways leave a trail of heartbroken and angry lovers in his wake. During a night of drinking, Virgil hooks up with a demon in disguise and is captured by the Demon Ruler, Abaddon, and taken to Netherworld.
Trapped in Netherworld, Virgil faces an eternity of unendurable torment…
But it’s there Virgil finds his lost love. Overcome by joy at the reunion, he convinces her to leave Netherworld…only to discover the true reason Abaddon lured him to his realm.
Evita has a secret buried in her forgotten past…a secret the Demon Ruler could use to lay waste to the Earth…
Abaddon knows Evita hid an amulet on Earth before she fell—and he wants it back. To thwart him, Evita must recapture her memories of her life before her fall, and remember where she hid the amulet.
Can she unlock her past and beat the enemy to the prize in time to save the Earthly Realm from falling prey to Abaddon’s deadly plans?
Author Reading First Chapter: https://youtu.be/JJkkg4gqGkg

Excerpt:
Evie was more
beautiful than he remembered. They sat crouched together on the ground. A
smudge of dirt was streaked across her jawline and chin. Light from a torch far
above their heads shone down. Her eyelashes cast shadows on her high
cheekbones. Her black horns hadn’t diminished her looks. Partly because he
loved her and nothing could interfere with that, and also he knew they were
actually once golden wings. Even in the dimly lit cavern, he saw her blush. She
was a fierce Warrior class angel in combat, but somewhat demure. His mate
concealed the protrusions with her hands.
He tried his
best to smile. “Do not worry about those.”
“Ohhhh,” the
Damned soul garbled. Virgil helped Evie up and shielded her with his big body.
The soul inched his way toward the cavern’s entrance on his stomach with his
head facing up, leaving a bloody trail in his wake.
“Let’s get out
of here,” Virgil said, taking her hand. The cool metal cuff reminded him they
wouldn’t be getting far. Pools of molten rock lay on either side of the path
leading to the Void cavern. Leaving her side, he searched around for something
to chip the stone wall surrounding the anchors to free her chains.
On the far wall,
near the people chained for punishment, Virgil spotted a pointed iron rod.
Trying to break Aba’s chains was useless, but the walls weren’t under the
Ruler’s control. Virgil focused on the metal staff as he approached. The
chained Damned didn’t look as disgusting at a distance, although up close…oh
Deus. Intestines spilled out onto the floor, eyeballs hung from sockets, and
one was missing its lower jaw. Strike that. Not missing. On the ground in a
pool of bodily fluids…
Virgil covered
his mouth until he realized his own hand was coated in feces and coughed in
disgust. “Yuk.” He dreamed of a hot shower. Many hot showers. He grabbed the
rod and ran back to Evie and started chipping away at the wall.
“What are you
doing?” she questioned.
“Getting
us…out…of here,” he said between jabs. Stone chunks flew.
“But I don’t
want to go anywhere.”
His heart
constricted and died a little bit, except he didn’t stop chipping away. He
switched to the other side of the anchor. Pebbles and dust landed on the
ground.
“Stop…please,”
she begged.
“No. You’re
coming with me.”
“But I told you
I don’t want to.”
 The last bit of wall gave way and the anchor
clanked to the ground. They stared at each other for a moment. “You wanted me
to tell you how I knew your name, did you not?”
“Yeah, but—”
“That is the
deal.”
Evie narrowed
her eyes. “That wasn’t our deal.”
He splayed his
hands and shrugged. “It is now.”
“You can’t
change the rules.”
“Are you going
to come willingly or do I have to carry you out of here? Your choice, but I’m
warning you, I’m not leaving without you.”


About the Author:
A.J. Norris is a romantic suspense and dark paranormal romance author. She enjoys being able to get inside someone else’s head, even a fictional one, and see what they see. Watching how her characters deal with difficult situations or squirm with the uncomfortable ones makes the hard work of writing all worth it. However, writing and reading weren’t always in her foremost thoughts. In fact, her love affair with writing came as a shock to everyone she knows, including herself. At a young age, she rarely opened a book, unless forced to read something for school. But that’s all behind her now. She wrote her first book several years ago, which turned out to be a surprisingly cathartic process, and she hasn’t been able to stop writing since.
A.J. loves going to the movies, watching her son play baseball, and communing with other writers. She’s a member of two writer’s groups and RWA. She lives in southeastern Michigan with her family, who are extremely tolerant (at least most of the time) of all her late nights behind the computer.
Along with contributing to Magical Pages Book Blog & Reviews, she’s currently working on book two of her Tattoo Crimes Series.
Her romantic suspense novel, Tattoo Killer (Book 1 of the Tattoo Crimes series), was published by Limitless, LLC in October 2016. Her Black Wings, book one of The Dark Amulet Series, a paranormal romance, released in July 2016 and book two, Her Black Heart released August 23, 2016. The third book in her Dark Amulet series, Her Black Soul, comes out April 11, 2017.

 

Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Author, Contemporary, Paranormal Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writer

Falling Hard by Stacy Finz – Book Tour + #Giveaway

18/04/17

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FALLING HARD
by Stacy Finz
Pub date: 4/11/2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
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In the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountain town of Nugget, California,
falling hard is all too easy . . .
This is the summer of Annie Sparks—at least according to her. No more
supporting lazy jerks or coddling irresponsible family or taking care
of anyone who doesn’t deserve her help. Instead she’s headed to
an estate in a remote mountain town, to spend her summer with her
boots covered in mud and her hands working the earth. Love is the
last thing on her mind.
Nugget is a long way from Logan Jenkins’ old life as a Navy SEAL. But
before he starts fresh in the private sector, he receives a bequest
from a man he never knew: his biological father. To learn more about
his background, Logan makes his way to his late father’s estate,
where he is immediately knocked on his heels by an incredible woman
with a heart of gold.
Annie’s not looking for a fling, and Logan knows Nugget can’t be forever,
so falling in love should be impossible. But when they’re together,
time stops, and suddenly the impossible seems like the only thinkable
option . . .
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Stacy Finz is an award-winning reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle.
After more than twenty years covering notorious serial killers,
naked-tractor-driving farmers, fanatical foodies, aging rock stars
and weird Western towns, she figured she finally had enough material
to launch a career writing fiction. In 2012 she won the Daphne du
Maurier Award for unpublished single-title mystery/suspense. She
lives in Berkeley, California with her husband.
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Posted in #Book, Author, blog, Book, Cover Reveal, Fiction, Paranormal Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Story, Tour, Writer

Beginners Luck by Kate Clayborn – Cover Reveal

18/04/17

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BEGINNER’S LUCK
by Kate Clayborn
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Pub Date: 10/31/2017
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When three friends impulsively buy a
lottery ticket, they never suspect the many ways their lives will
change—or that for each of them, love will be the biggest win of
all.
Kit Averin is anything but a gambler. A
scientist with a quiet, steady job at a university, Kit’s focus has
always been maintaining the acceptable status quo. Being a sudden
millionaire doesn’t change that, with one exception: the
fixer-upper she plans to buy, her first and only real home. It’s
more than enough to keep her busy, until an unsettlingly handsome,
charming, and determined corporate recruiter shows up in her lab—and
manages to work his way into her heart . . .
Ben Tucker is surprised to find that the
scientist he wants for Beaumont Materials is a young woman—and a
beautiful, sharp-witted one at that. Talking her into a big-money
position with his firm is harder than he expects, but he’s willing
to put in the time, especially when sticking around for the summer
gives him a chance to reconnect with his dad. But the longer he
stays, the more questions he has about his own future—and who might
be in it.
What begins as a chilly rebuff soon heats up
into an attraction neither Kit nor Ben can deny—and finding
themselves lucky in love might just be priceless . . .
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Buy Links:
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Kate Clayborn lives in Virginia,
where she’s lucky enough to spend her days reading and talking about
all kinds of great books. At home she’s either writing, thinking
about writing, or–during long walks around her fabulous
neighborhood—making her handsome husband and sweet-faced dog listen
to her talk about writing.
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Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Author, Bewitching Book Tours, Fiction, Paranormal Romance, Tour, Writer

Beneath the Night by Jen Colly – Release Day Blitz + #Giveaway

18/04/17

 


Beneath the Night
The Cities Below
Book Three
Jen Colly
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Kensington/Lyrical
Date of Publication:  April 18, 2017
ISBN: 9781516101481
ASIN: B01JEJDHFM
Number of pages: 200
Word Count: 71,000
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs
Tagline: Sometimes survival means surrendering everything . . .
Book Description:
Lord Navarre Casteel wakes from a long sleep to find the vampire city he rules forever changed and his future in the hands of a mysterious beauty who offers her life for his. Fiery-haired Cat survives his feeding, fueling Navarre’s body and mind-as well as his suspicion that she is one of the Forbidden-a lethal mix of vampire and human blood. Yet that doesn’t stop the throb of Navarre’s desire, the feeling that she is destined to be his mate, to hell with consequences. . . .
A solitary fighter sworn to protect the children in her charge, Cat never expects to feel so much for Navarre in the face of his savage feeding. Which is why his offer of protection is nearly her undoing. For how can she let down her guard when she has always walked alone? But Cat has never faced an enemy like the one she faces now, never felt such a powerful need to surrender to the force of love . . .
Amazon    iTunes     GoogleBooks    Kobo    BN
Excerpt:
This was the
royal storage, and the Guardians would be here any moment. Treasures from all
over Europe had been covered, hidden from view, while others lay exposed,
collecting layers of dust. A gold, jewel-encrusted urn half the size of a man
glinted in the dim light seeping from beneath the door. A golden yellow chaise
in Greek styling was half hidden beneath a sheet, the craftsmanship elaborate.
Yes, Savard grew nervous when Guardians were scheduled to enter this room, but
theft was not his fear, nor was the handling of such priceless artifacts.
He’d have given
his life to protect what was beyond the row of five large French curio cabinets
in the corner of the attic. Savard slipped into Spirit long enough to move
through a curio, and once inside the makeshift seclusion, returned to his true
form. Here, easily hidden behind the towering cabinets, was the most priceless
treasure in Balinese.
Navarre Casteel,
the true lord of Balinese, lay motionless on a small bed, trapped in a deep
healing sleep. Not waking, not dying.
Navarre had
fallen in the demon attack nearly seven years ago. A demon’s blade had pierced
his chest, and from what they could tell, nicked his heart. Navarre had slipped
into a healing sleep, his body shutting down to repair from the inside out.
After that point, nothing could be done to help him. Their lord would have to
heal on his own, or not at all.
Every day since,
Savard expected his lord’s death, even planned for the loss. It never happened.
Months had passed. Years. Seven years of total stillness.
The padlock
outside the door rattled, the heavy hinge laid back against the door. Then the
large wooden slide latch was moved, wood scraping wood, until the handle hit
the end of its range with a solid thud.
Savard knelt
beside the bed and took his lord’s lifeless hand in both of his, ready to
weather the brief intrusion, prepared to Spirit Navarre away should it become
necessary.
The hinges on
the thick door creaked as it opened. The Guardians stepped inside, flipped on
the lights. Boots scuffed the uneven floorboards beneath their feet, and long,
purposeful strides quickly carried them deeper inside the room.
“There it is,”
Dyre said, his young, smooth voice trapped in the low ceiling of the attic. “It
doesn’t appear heavy, only awkward.”
“Why are we
putting an empty birdcage outside the dining hall?” Cat said, suspicion
bleeding through her tone.
The presence of
these two was unexpected. As arena Guardians, Titus and Graydon often drew the
short straw, being sent on random missions that sometimes involved moving
furniture. Not today. Somehow Dyre and Cat had taken their place.
“Don’t ask, just
do,” Dyre said.
“Ugh.” She
exaggerated the guttural sound. “I hate your motto. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not my
motto,” Dyre said, the effort of sliding wooden furniture across the floor
temporarily halting his speech. “And you seem to like it just fine when you’re
the one barking orders.”
“Fair enough,”
she said, relenting.
Savard smiled
slightly, shaking his head. In public those two barely spoke a word to each
other, and after the parade of Guardian partners Cat had gone through, he never
would have thought Dyre would be the one she’d accept. But then, Dyre was one
of the few able to bring her unpredictable temper down to at least a simmer.
“Here, take this
end,” Dyre directed. “I’ll go down the stairs backward.”
“You think I
can’t go backward?” Cat snapped at him, instantly geared up for a fight,
offended her partner might find her lacking.
“No,” he said
calmly, his tone hinting at simple honesty. “I think you’re short.”
If Cat gave him
a response, Savard didn’t hear it. Boots scuffled across the floor, the lights
went out and the door closed, the bolt slid home, and the padlock clunked into
place. The room was left in silence once again. Savard peeked through a crack
between the dressers to make certain they’d left.
Turning
Navarre’s hand over, Savard pressed his fingertips to his lord’s exposed inner
wrist. As he did with each visit, Savard searched for a pulse, craved
confirmation that Navarre still lived. Beneath his fingers, the normally slow,
lurching rhythm of Navarre’s pulse seemed to have sped up. Not rapid or racing,
but simply stronger. This could be his body’s last surge of energy before
death. Savard looked at Navarre’s face, fearing it might be the last time.
Navarre, still
deep in a healing sleep, turned his face slightly toward the door. He wasn’t
dying. He was waking.
“Oh, God. It’s
her.” Jaw slack, Savard sank back onto his heels.
He shoved his
hair off his face. How had he not seen this connection? When Cat had first
arrived on the night of the attack, he hadn’t known what to do with her. He’d
put her in one of Navarre’s extra homes. That home was on the floor beneath
this attic, not terribly far from where Navarre lay sleeping.
Most vampires
could recognize the beckoning call of their fated mate. Supposedly, though he’d
never seen it happen, the presence of your mate could even negate the deadly
call of the sun. Her proximity was most likely the only reason Navarre still
clung to life. Cat must be his mate. If so, then she was the key to Navarre’s
awakening. Ironically, her continued presence in the city was contingent upon
Navarre allowing her to stay once he woke.
Plans quickly
took form now that Savard at long last had a clear solution. If Navarre’s
condition was going to change, it would happen tonight. He would make it happen
tonight.

 

While this new
development should bring elation, Savard’s skin crawled with a morbid
anticipation. Something unstoppable was happening in the world around him, a
life-altering force headed his way. He’d felt this same unease the night he’d
become lord, an awareness that he balanced at the top of a mountain and would
soon fall. He just didn’t know in which direction.
 
About the Author:
Jen Colly is the rare case of an author who rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years. Now she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing her first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are pirates and vampires.
She lives in Ohio with her supportive husband, two kids, one big fluffy dog, and four rescued cats.

 

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Posted in #Book, Author, Bewitching Book Tours, blog, Book, Paranormal Romance, Story, Tour, Writer

If you were my Vampire by L.J.K. Oliva

 
If You Were My Vampire
A Shades Below Novel
Book 2.5
L.J.K. Oliva
Genre:  Paranormal romance
Word Count:  approx. 100,000
Cover Artist:  L.J.K. Oliva
Book Description:
Sometimes, your life begins the day you die…
Asher Evans is a man haunted by history. Turned vampire in the concentration camp that claimed his family, he has never recovered from the loss of his humanity. Removed from the mundane world and resigned to facing eternity alone, he’s completely unprepared when the unthinkable happens: he meets a girl.
As the youngest daughter of San Francisco’s most prestigious psychic family, Grace Alan has always known about the things that go bump in the night. She especially knows about monsters…including the fact that she is one. Grace has spent her entire life trying to be normal, and finally, things seem to be looking up. There’s only one problem.
She’s just been murdered.
When Asher stumbles upon a dying Grace, he knows he should leave her to her fate. But in a world that looks at him and sees only a monster, Grace reminds him what it feels like to be human. He can’t bring himself to let her die.
Unfortunately, rescuing her has consequences. Female vampires have been illegal for centuries. In saving Grace, Asher may have condemned them both.

Can be read as a standalone


 
Listen to the Playlist at YouTube and Spotify
Excerpt
2
Traffic was
scant on The Embarcadero.  Even going at
a light pace, it didn’t take long to reach Fisherman’s Wharf.  A stiff wind was blowing in off the Bay, and
the crowds of tourists had long since departed in favor of warmer
retreats.  Seagulls feasted on the scraps
of sourdough bread bowls sticky with clam chowder left in their wake.
A lone street
musician remained on the empty sidewalk.
He was seated on a small, rusty stool, a battered guitar perched on his
knees.  He sang in a haunting tenor, his
voice crisp and clear in the stillness.
The words of the song echoed off the surrounding buildings.
Someone to watch
over me…
Asher stopped.  “This song was written the year I was
born.”
Grace didn’t
answer.  Asher was about to look down
when her hand slipped into his.
Perhaps it was
the cold.  Perhaps he was still high from
the streetcar ride or the race down Market Street.  Either way, he clearly wasn’t in his right
mind, because instead of pushing her away, he spun her around so she was
squarely in his arms.
Her eyes
widened.  “What…?”
“Dance with
me.”  He couldn’t believe
himself.  Asher took a deep breath.  “I mean, unless you don’t—”
Grace coiled her
fingers through his, lifted her other hand and rested it on his shoulder.  She met his eyes.  Asher wasn’t sure what she saw there.  A blush stole across her cheeks, but she
didn’t look away.  “You’ll have to
show me how.”
Asher released
the breath.  He hadn’t been aware he was
holding it.  Gently, he reached up and
adjusted her hand on his shoulder.  Then
he set his hand to her waist.  “It’s
easy.  Just move with me.”
He heard her
breath stutter, and her hand trembled a little in his.  For some inexplicable reason, that pleased
him.   He firmed his other hand against
her back, and started to move.  It was
nothing complicated, just a simple two-step he’d seen his parents do.  Asher closed his eyes.  For a moment, he could almost remember a time
when things had been normal.  A time when
he’d been happy.
A time when he’d
been human.
He jerked his
eyes open again.  His throat ached.  He swallowed ruthlessly, tried to lock down
the place inside him that felt poised to crack wide open.  He started to pull back.
Grace’s fingers
tightened around his, and she rested her cheek against his chest.  Her hand slid from his shoulder and curled
around the back of his neck.
Asher wasn’t
sure he remembered how to breathe.
“Grace,” he whispered.
The emptiness inside him expanded.
“I can’t…”
“It’s
easy.”  He felt her voice in every
fiber of his being.  “Just move with
me.”
Asher stared
down at her.  The emptiness receded a
little.  The vise around his chest
loosened.  He closed his eyes again and
let Grace hold him, let the scent of patchouli leak into his senses and anchor
him firmly in the present moment.


They danced
until the song ended, and the street musician finally packed away his guitar.
About the Author:
L.J.K Oliva writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, with a heavy dash of suspense. She likes her whiskey strong, her chocolate dark, and her steak bloody. L.J.K. likes monsters… and knows the darkest ones don’t live in closets.
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