Category Archives: Excerpt

Giveaway – The Worst Darcy by Robyn Gynne @XpressoTours

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The Worst Darcy
Robyn Gynne
Publication date: August 15th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Brodie Bishop is the worst.

Vivian Trent is desperate. Her family doesn’t approve of her life as a single mom and the small town of Austen still won’t accept her as one of their own four years later. Playing Elizabeth Bennet at the annual Jane Austen Festival is the perfect way to win over the locals and prove that she’s thriving. But when Austen’s favourite festival hero is replaced by his tattooed, metalhead brother, how is she supposed to achieve perfection with such a bad boy playing Mr. Darcy? He’s never read the book. He’s brash and unpolished. He’s… blond?!

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I dislike you.

Brodie’s used to being the town disappointment, so when Vivian turns her nose up at him, he’s not surprised. Hot librarian or not, she’s way too uptight. But once the festival gets underway, they see new sides of each other. When he finds out her dark secret, suddenly she’s much more endearing. She’s vulnerable, but strong. And the way she looks in that gown only blurs the lines between playing the part and falling for her for real.

But when her goal is within reach, can Vivian go off-book and choose Brodie, if it means risking everything she thought she wanted?

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

—

EXCERPT:

Cuppabeans was the only cafe in town, a cute little corner shop with a mint green and white striped awning out front, knotty pine framing inside, and a constant, thick miasma of warm, rich Arabica beans in the air.

Inhaling deeply as I stood in line, I tapped my foot and checked the time. It was fine. I still had a good cushion to get this done before I had to be at the library. I reached the front and ordered the largest size they had.

“Name?” the perky teenage server called over the morning din.

“Vivian,” I said.

“Lydia?” she asked.

I emphasized each syllable so she could at least read my lips. “Vivian.”

She nodded in a way that made my hopes plummet. I crossed my arms and stepped to the side to let the next person up. I blinked as I saw the man who’d stood behind me. He wore black head to toe, including a thick pair of leather cuffs at his wrists, the dark shade contrasting with his fair skin. The only hint of colour on him popped from the tattoos covering his forearms and the wheat blond of his overlong hair. He left his black aviators on as he put in his order and came to stand beside me, crossing one long leg over the other as he leaned back against the wall.

I watched him in the mirror on the opposite side of the cafe. He crossed his arms and appeared generally standoffish, the sharp line of his jaw ticking as he clenched it. I watched the muscle move as discreetly as I could. By the look of him, he was hardly a Prince Charming candidate, but I could still appreciate a nice jawline. I was only human, after all.

But then a smirk kicked up one corner of his mouth and he tipped his sunglasses down, revealing that his eyes were locked on mine in the mirror. My heart squeezed in surprise. Not only from the frantic feeling of being caught staring, but the shock of how incongruously dark brown his eyes were against that hair, stark in his only slightly sun-kissed face. They tilted up slightly at the outer corners, reminding me of a cat. He nudged the shades off his face and turned to me with a matching feline languor.

I flicked my eyes to the ground, face flaring with heat.

“Don’t like tattoos?” he asked, his voice a slightly gravelly tenor. By that grungy, heavy metal look, he’d probably spent his life screaming into a microphone.

“I wasn’t looking at your tattoos,” I said with a sharp shake of my head. Hopefully, my neck wasn’t going blotchy with embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he asked. In my periphery, I saw him lean closer. “What were you lookin’ at?”

I threw a desperate glance at the server and she held a cup up with a nod. Relief flooded me as I grabbed it and pivoted on my heel to escape this awkward encounter. But as I passed the man, I faltered, frowning down at the cup. It read Vanilla. “Oh, come on,” I grumbled under my breath.

A snort drew my eyes back up to the man. His dark eyes sparked with a mocking amusement. “Hey, at least she got the V right.”

I rolled my eyes and marched past him, ignoring the snicker that followed me out the door.


Author Bio:

Robyn writes spicy contemporary romances about resilient women and memorable men. Having self-published numerous short romances over the years under different pen names, she is pleased to present her first full-length novel, THE WORST DARCY. When she’s not writing, you can find her catching up on her TBR pile, watching spooky movies, and woodburning crafts. She lives in the Greater Toronto Area with her husband and son.

Website / Goodreads / TikTok / Instagram / Newsletter


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Giveaway – Rogues and Redeemers: A Zasra Press Anthology @XpressoTours

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Rogues And Redeemers: A Zasra Press Anthology
Publication date: August 8th 2023
Genres: Adult, Fantasy

It would take such a selfless act, to reverse what you have done… from “Turning A New Leaf”

I didn’t become the frog. The frog became me… from “A Frog Among Princes”

Justice served with a dash of poison was justice served well… from “Path Of The Righteous”

Descend into the darkness or rise up to the light as you explore eight original stories themed ‘Corruption’ and ‘Redemption’. You’ll find something for everyone, from dark magic, covert ambition, and war to ghosts, royalty, and beasts!

~

A. M. Dilsaver — The Devil In The Ashes

Born of lust and fueled by hatred, Aschelle is determined to make her stepmother pay for the cruelties of her childhood. With the prince throwing a ball to seek a wife, victory is only a wish away…

Barend Nieuwstraten III — Turning A New Leaf

When a plan to summon and trap a demon to gain power goes fatally wrong, a bargain must be struck to ensure the summoner does not leave the exchange empty handed.

Christiana Matthews — The Bequest

Gemma doesn’t believe in ghosts–until she meets her dead grandfather, Jock, and uncovers a family secret. In order to move forward with her life, she must persuade Jock to move on as well.

Christiana Matthews — A Frog Among Princes

When Prince Robert refuses to marry a magician’s daughter, he’s turned into a frog in retaliation. Years later, he must seek out the mage in order to save a friend.

Eleanor Owen — The 205th

As a marionette soldier, Faith-7 is given a chance to redeem the condemned soul inside of her by fighting against a heretical empire.

Emma O’Connell — Happy Ending

Waking in a sea of dead bodies, Jacob realises that he has no idea what happened to him. But can he really trust the girl who says she can help?

Ine Gausel — Remnants Of Light

Silencer Osvalt Fell is haunted by his past. To move on, he must learn to let go, even if it breaks his heart.

S. K. Sayari — Path Of The Righteous

Tanith, Imperial Official by day, covert vigilante by night, believes in justice—no matter the means. She must outwit those who suspect her before she loses everything.

Illustrations appear in the print version only.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

SNEAK PEEKS:

PATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS — S. K. SAYARI

Justice served with a dash of poison was justice served well.

Tanith spooned the reddish powder into her ring’s cavity, making sure the poison wasn’t packed too tightly. She slid the dull purple jewel back in place with a click, then slipped the ring on her finger.

It was time to get to work.

Although, could she really call this work? Or was it more of a hobby? A business, perhaps? Now that Tanith’s bitterness had faded in the years since her sister Narys was murdered, she didn’t consider it vengeance anymore. It was second nature and felt right.

As she mused, she sifted through the piles of clothing, hairpieces she’d used before she’d honed her magic, and heavens knew what else strewn about her tiny, ramshackle apartment in the slums of Karkhaz. After selecting a green tunic and brown trousers, the colours of those who toiled in the fields, she pulled them on. To complete her persona, she sucked in a breath and allowed her magic to wash over her like a waterfall.

Her bound auburn hair deepened to brown, and her skin darkened a shade. She stepped up to the mirror to complete the finer touches—high cheekbones, a button nose, and thin lips. The Allure wouldn’t mask her voice or height, but she wasn’t worried about what would happen if someone saw past it.

After all, who would suspect the Keeper of Order of breaking the law?

No one had thus far. Well, no one except him. Since his marriage to the Empress, Rosario Bregan had been intent on finding the “Nighthawk,” as nobles called the elusive assassin targeting the unrighteous within Karkhaz.

As the new Emperor, Rosario had taken the wellbeing of Zehanna’s capital into his own hands. He had introduced new policies for trade with neighbouring countries, bolstered the Empire’s coffers, and created several lesser laws to deal with crime. He’d even interviewed the Keepers, including Tanith. Despite his efforts, the Nighthawk still eluded him.

The name fit her well.

—

THE 205TH — ELEANOR OWEN

The first thing she knew was the mortar blast.

Shrapnel tore through her right shoulder and stabbed deep into her chest, and it was like waking from a dream. The explosion slammed her into her body, into that skin that was not skin, flesh that was not flesh, and left her, awake and aware, standing in the middle of a mist-shrouded battlefield.

She had existed before that moment. She remembered that existence, too, but it was hazy. A life—or something half resembling it—belonging to someone else.

Somewhere ahead, cannons flared through the smoke. Sound crashed dizzyingly around her. Men—boys, really, she thought as she looked into the glazed eyes of the fallen—were dying on that mad rush towards the waiting walls of Mardall. She’d dropped her rifle and made to reach for it, but her limp fingers flopped uselessly against the stock as the last motion in her arm died. The knuckles clicked against each other like dice in a cup.

“Faith-7, report,” a voice shouted behind her.

Clumsily, she turned. Smoke and fog hung heavy around the speaker, but she recognized the silhouette of Patience’s greatcoat. It was almost like an officer’s. Fitting, as he was almost like an officer.

“Functional,” she replied, because she knew that was what she was meant to say.

Broken light fell across the porcelain mask that passed for Patience’s face.

“Raise your arm,” he ordered through unmoving lips.

A pause. She couldn’t, of course. He could see that.

“Fall back, Faith-7,” Patience said. “Report to the carpenter.”

“Yes, sir.”

Patience nodded sharply and vanished into the fog.

Faith—she decided she didn’t need the number—watched him go. If she’d had a heart, she was sure it would have been racing. Indeed, she felt the echo of it, a distant half-memory of when her body had been blood and sinew. But there was silence in her chest, from the glowing green gem that peeked through the cracked porcelain beneath her uniform.

The shrapnel scratched against it. It almost itched.

—

The Devil In The Ashes — A. M. Dilsaver

They called her Elle.

Girl.

Because her father had wanted a quick affair in the kitchen, and what he’d gotten was her—a scrawny, wrinkled child with ruddy skin and hair black as ash. A wild, wispy thing, more witch than human, more spirit than child. Her mother’s in every way, save for the eyes. No matter how he tried to deny the rumors, to separate Elle from his real daughters, people would shake their heads and say those are Bonheur eyes. A deep, unfathomable blue. Not the azure of a clear day, or the twinkling cerulean of a lakeside picnic. Dark and haunted, a deep violet, like the terrifying absence of the sun right after it sets but before the darkness has taken over.

She was not expected to survive.

She did anyway.

And so did her mother, for a time. They lived a quiet life in the servants’ quarter of the manor, sweeping the kitchen and preparing food for the man who refused to acknowledge them, for the family who denied their existence. To keep her busy, her mother would drop lentils into the fireplace, let Elle pick them out one by one, and then laugh and draw symbols in the ash that coated the girl’s skin.

“Aschelle,” her mother would say. “My little ash girl.”

Killing her mother was his first mistake.



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Giveaway – In The Shadow Of The Bull by Eleanor Kuhns @partnersincr1me @EleanorKuhns

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In the Shadow of the Bull by Eleanor Kuhns Banner

In the Shadow of the Bull

by Eleanor Kuhns

July 17 – August 11, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Ancient Crete, 1450 BC. In a world of Goddess worship, sacred snakes and sacrifice, human jealousy, resentment, and betrayal still run wild . . .

When her sister Arge drops to the floor in convulsions and dies at her wedding, fifteen-year-old Martis, a young poet and bull leaper in training, is certain she was murdered. The prime suspect is the groom, Saurus, from the Greek mainland, but when Arge’s shade visits Martis, swearing Saurus is not the murderer, Martis vows to uncover the truth.

As Martis begins asking questions, she discovers that while Arge may have had no secrets, many of the people around her certainly do.

Praise for In the Shadow of the Bull:

“This complex, character-driven mystery is loaded with fascinating historical details”
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: July 2023
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 9781448310869 (ISBN10: 1448310865)
Series: An Ancient Crete Mystery (#1)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

Read an excerpt:

Saurus was clad, not in a colorful loincloth, nor in the robe Cretan men wore for certain rituals, but in his leather armor. His wavy black hair spilled over his shoulders, un-oiled. And he carried his weapons, long knives in their scabbards, at his waist. His one attendant, his friend Kabya, stood behind him, dressed in like manner. Gasps of condemnation sounded through the crowd.

‘Does he think he’s going to fight someone,’ Mother said in angry disapproval.

Saurus looked around at the crowd, his eyes narrowed, and then he lifted his chin defiantly. Although I didn’t like him, I recognized his uncertainty. He knew we despised him and his barbarous ways.

When Saurus had first come to the palace, I’d been prepared to accept him. He knew my mother’s brother and had come with news of him. Like my uncle, Saurus was also a trader. At least he said he was, and we welcomed him into the house.

My dislike dated from that first day, before I knew he would take Arge from us. He examined me and my sisters with careless lechery. I’d just come from acrobatics and wore a boy’s loincloth. As his gaze swept over me, I shuddered with a strange prickly hot feeling. And then he dismissed me with a quick, indifferent turn of his head. Then the flush that burned through me was one of anger.

Despite my feelings, and his awkward broken Cretan, he’d quickly charmed all my sisters. And although Mother frequently eyed him with reserve, I saw them laughing together more than once.

At first, he’d spread his easy compliments among all my sisters – though I was invisible to him – but soon he paid more and more attention to Arge. A knot of worry formed on my mother’s forehead.

Several months after Saurus’s arrival, Arge announced she planned to marry him.

There was Arge now, in front of the mound of ash left by previous sacrifices. Against the deep purple of her jacket, her skin looked deathly pale. She’d pressed her mouth into a long thin line. Was she regretting her decision now? I looked up at the sky, so dark the stars spangled the expanse with flecks of silver, and sent another fervent prayer heavenward – ‘Please, Lady of the Animals and of Childbirth, stop this marriage. I will offer you all the honey from my bees.’

The High Priestess with her nine attendants suddenly appeared from the shadows, stepping through the trees into the torchlight. Their eyes sparkled and one of the attendants stumbled. They were drunk on the sacred liquor, a mixture of beer, wine, fermented honey and herbs. The priestesses wore the sacral knot tied at the nape of their necks, above the tight jackets. to show they were in service to Her who gave us life. Some of them wore doves on their heads, live doves tied to the headdress by the feet, for love. Three of the women carried baskets.

Instead of a dove, the High Priestess carried snakes in her headdress, living snakes that coiled as high as they could from the bindings, flicking their tongues and hissing. Snakes to promote fertility in this new marriage.

As the High Priestess approached the altar, a soft moan of anticipation whispered from the crowd. The goats began struggling even harder against their bonds as they caught the scent of the snakes. The Priestess, who did not seem to notice the throng of people standing on the other side of the altar of ash and bone, turned to the first attendant. She took away the lid and removed the large heavy snake from the basket to coil it around her waist. The remaining two baskets yielded additional snakes. Chanting sonorously, she allowed the snakes to twine up her arms.

I could not repress a tremor of remembered fear and my mother glanced at me. Only nine at Opis’s wedding, I’d been so terrified by the snakes that Arge had had to carry me from the ceremony. I looked at Arge now. Her expression was fixed in a grimace of pain.

Suddenly she fell to the floor, writhing in convulsions and spilling bloody vomit from her mouth.

For several seconds no one moved. The Priestess’s chant continued, then lurched to a stop mid-syllable. Pandemonium erupted. Screaming, Mother ran to her daughter and fell to her knees beside her. After a moment of frozen disbelief, Opis and Nuia followed at a run. I couldn’t move. I stared in horror at Arge’s body lying on the stones. What had I done? I’d pleaded with the Goddess to halt the wedding and She had. But why this way? Why kill Arge, the sweetest and most unassuming of all women? Raising my face to the sky, I began to sob. The stars in the sky blurred together into streaks of silver. ‘Why?’ I asked the Goddess. ‘Why?’

This was my fault: the Goddess had answered my prayers.

***

Excerpt from In the Shadow of the Bull by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2023 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Minotaur/Mystery Writers of America first mystery prize for A Simple Murder. That was the first in the Will Rees series. She went on to write ten more.
In the Shadow of the Bull is the first in the Ancient Crete Mystery series.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:
www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram – @edl0829
Twitter – @EleanorKuhns
Facebook – @writerkuhns

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

 

 

JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Eleanor Kuhns. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

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Giveaway – The Control by M W Layne @XpressoTours

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The Control
M.W. Layne
Publication date: June 5th 2023
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

I didn’t kill my professor. But someone did…
It’s the dead of night when I regain consciousness in my psychology professor’s office. I don’t know what I’m doing here or why my favorite teacher is slumped over, dead at his computer with his head caved in.

When I stumble over to him on shaking legs, I bury my face in my sleeve to mute the smell of death. But as I lean in to see what he was working on when he was killed, the psych profile on his screen is what makes me wretch. The assessment is about one of his students–someone he describes as mentally ill, losing control, and capable of extreme violence. I scroll to the top of the document, and when I get there my stomach freezes because the name I see is my own.

Jim Straub.

I stagger away from my professor’s cold body, eyes filled with tears. He was my teacher and trying to help me. There’s no way I was the one who murdered him. But if it wasn’t me, who was it? And more importantly, why did the killer let me live?

The Control is a psychological thriller–a dark story of nightmares, deception, and love that will keep you guessing until its unforgettable, twisted ending.

Goodreads / Amazon

Get it FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

—

EXCERPT:

With two fingers, I lift Mooken’s icy hand from the keyboard, treating it like a disgusting bug I have to touch. I’ve watched enough television shows and read enough mysteries to know better than to disturb a dead body. But I need the letters on his screen to stop.

They remind me too much of how Mooken used to make his awkward hmmm sounds in the middle of his lectures when pondering a point his students weren’t getting.

Being this close to a dead person, my body revolts at the heavy cocktail of copper, feces, and urine in the room—a combination I’ve never encountered before.

Well, once before. But that was so long ago I sometimes wonder if it wasn’t another one of my nightmares.

But my stomach tells me the scene in front of me is real. My guts convulse and threaten to spew everything from inside of me, and I swallow hard, choking back my sickness…barely.

I bury my nose in my sleeve, breathing through my mouth. Other than the shallow in-and-out of my air, the room is quiet.

Inside my head, however, things are very loud.

Along with the loud buzzing, my father is telling me to run.

Leave now and save yourself, boy. Before they blame you for all of this.

I ignore him and stare down at Mooken.

After five minutes, his screen starts to fade to black, but I move the mouse, and the screen returns to full brightness.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I lean over my professor’s body like I’m showing a dead man something he might find interesting. I hold the mouse lightly in my hand and scroll up. There are so many pages of mmmms that the document appears to stand still as I scroll. I climb through a hundred pages of that single, lonely letter before I make it to the substance of the file and slow down to skim its contents. I scan blocks of Mooken’s text, reading snippets from the bottom up.

classic signs…

early schizophrenia…

chronic sleep deprivation…

acute depression…

disruptions in personal affairs…

My head throbs as I continue further up the document.

delusions…

romantic interest…

auditory and visual hallucinations…

sleep paralysis…

irrational anger and suspicion toward therapist…

potential for extreme violence…

formal evaluation recommended…

I speed to the very top of the document to see who Mooken was evaluating, and my stomach freezes when I read my name.

Jim Straub.

But this can’t be. I didn’t kill the professor. I know this for certain.

Professor Mooken was my teacher and trying to help me. That must be why I came here tonight—to get his help.

Not to kill him.

The delete key stares at me, cooing, tempting me to erase my name—to fix this.

But I can’t do that—not yet, at least.

I disable Mooken’s screen saver, stagger to the other side of his desk, and sink back into the leather chair.

When I check the clock on the wall, fifteen minutes have passed.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and on reflex, I check it. As happens so often lately, it’s a missed call from my father, who suffers from dementia and calls and texts daily.

I love and miss my dad, but I can’t deal with him and his altered, severe personality right now.

My present situation is too dire, although there are still a few hours before other professors and students begin entering the building to start their days.

I squeeze my eyes shut to help me remember the events that led me here, but when I do, I hear my father giving me advice again, yelling at me, ordering me.

Leave.

“Not yet,” I say through clenched teeth. “I need to remember what happened first.”

Author Bio:

When Mike writes twisted psychological thrillers, urban fantasy, or stories with a darker bent, he publishes it under the pen name “M.W. Layne” to differentiate it from his other books written as Michael W. Layne. Both Michael and M.W. apologize for any confusion this may cause readers, but this makes it easier to decide which set of books you can let your kids read. Michael W. Layne, yes! Great for any age. M.W. Layne, maybe not until they’re in their teens…

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram


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Giveaway – The Widow Queen and Her Lover by Alan Gold @XpressoTours

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The Widow Queen and her Lover
Alan Gold
Publication date: September 1st 2023
Genres: Adult, Historical

No longer one of the spoils of war, Catherine, Queen of England and France, resolves to fight for her new life – on her own terms

Catherine of Valois, daughter of the defeated king of France, looks down from the battlements as her future rides to greet her.

As one of the spoils of war, she is to be married to her father’s enemy, Henry V of England. She is prepared to do her duty – what could be worse than continuing to live with her ailing father and cold mother – but she wasn’t prepared to fall in love.

Henry is everything that she wanted in a husband, and a king. In him she finds a devoted lover and inspiring ruler. When he dies, shortly after she has delivered his heir, her future and that of her son is in doubt. Not only must she protect her baby, the young Henry VI, she must protect his legacy from the grasping and scheming of his uncle and protector.

When Owen Tudor — Welshman, commoner, troublesomely attractive — stumbles into her lap, she sees her future. A man who will not lead armies, nor rule kingdoms. Instead, one who will devote himself to protecting what is hers. But he must sacrifice everything he has in order to marry her, and even that may not be enough to keep them all safe.

Add to Goodreads

—

EXCERPT:

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Gaspar saw movement. It was a woman coming up the steps from the rooms below in the castle. She’d heard the singing and wanted to see who was chanting. Monks? Townsfolk? Jongleurs? She didn’t look scared, and Gaspar recognised her immediately. It was the young and beautiful Catherine of Valois, only eighteen and the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Tall, majestic, regal, yet happy in her life, friendly, open, and warm … the very opposite of the mad father and especially the cold cow of a mother. God knows how she could be so happy and cheerful when she had a mother like that woman down below, that Bavarian bitch and a lunatic for a father.

Author Bio:

Alan Gold began his career as a journalist, working in the UK, Europe, and Israel. In 1970, he emigrated to Australia with his wife, Eva, and now lives in St. Ives, Sydney, where he divides his time between writing novels and running his award-winning marketing consultancy.


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Giveaway – Feeling Ballsy by Beck Erixon @XpressoTours @BErixson

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Feeling Ballsy
Beck Erixson
(Love is Awkward)
Publication date: August 1st 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Elin Axelsson is unmistakably the worst goalie in her women’s indoor soccer league. Yet each week, she laces up her cleats, pumps up her teammates, and gives it her all. At least playing soccer means being able to spend more time with her all-star goalie boyfriend, Nate. And her best friend of fifteen years—who’s a total ladies’ man—Hawk.

But when Elin catches Nate cheating, she dumps his ass, and finds herself thrust back into the weird world of online dating. At least she has Hawk to lean on. He has a new woman every week, and is a dating expert. But after a few awkward first dates with other people, Elin starts noticing Hawk in a different light. Except, that can’t happen. She can’t risk losing him, or their fifteen-year friendship if things go sour.

That is, until they manage to fall tongue-first into each other’s mouths. The two form a pact to prevent diving hormones-first into more bad relationships. They’ll hook up with each other, and compartmentalize their friendship. But there are rules: Elin sets the pace, no sex with others while the pact is in effect, and if either develop romantic feelings for the other, they must bail out to protect the friendship. It’s the perfect arrangement!

Until it isn’t.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Our gazes split as I pretend to stretch my neck, crinkling the melting bag of ice, and severing a replay of the moment at the fire pit we both refuse to acknowledge.

He leans in, and a tiny giggle flutters up my chest and out through my lips.

“What?” He asks, pulling his torso back, his voice squeaking high. “Does my breath smell?” Furrowing his brow, he huffs into his palm. With a deep sniff, he shakes his head.

I swallow down a larger chuckle. He looks over my shoulder as he bites his lower lip. Do what happened the other night. It’s simple.

I cough to cover another laugh and clear my throat. “Let’s try again.”

Hawk crosses his arms and tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Are you going to laugh at me again?”

I shake my head. “No?” Maybe.

“Well, that’s so convincing.” His voice hits a puberty high crack. “It’s only me.”

I nod and take in a deep breath. It’s only me? Does he realize what that even means? There is no one I trust more than him. Despite that, this is still new territory. There’s this tiny nag in me throwing up blocks, worried about being tossed aside when he’s bored of me.

My lips part and hover close enough to feel the gentle exhale of air from his mouth. I peek open an eye to find he’s staring back at me. Another obnoxiously loud laugh erupts from my mouth, and a pang of worry seizes my heart.

I suck in my lips and bite down as I open my eyes. Well, crap. He looks so … confused?

“You’re not okay with this, are you?” He scratches at his cheek and glances down.

The bag of ice drips on my shirt and ceases the trembling tickle in my chest. “It’s not that. It’s every time I see your face I laugh.”

“I’m that horrible looking to you?” His tone suggests a joke, but one drenched in a heavy ouch.

“Shut up. You know you aren’t ugly.” I shake my head.

“True. I’m in the realm of hideous.” He flashes a wide grin and runs his tongue over his lips. “Would a bag over my head with lip holes help?”

“You. Are. Ridiculous.”

He covers his face with wide fingers. “Better?”

“Stop making fun.”

All I want to do is see if the fire pit was a fluke, and forget all the other nonsense. Instead, I can’t stop giggling like I’ve never been with someone before. I lean in, kiss the back of his hand, and lean back.

“Oh, baby.” He rolls his eyes back, pulls his hands down his cheeks, and lets out a groan.

“This. This is why it’s weird.” A full belly laugh pulls through, filling the air. “You’re, you.” Knowing it’s him kissing me is different from seeing him kiss me. When the structured lines of his face get close, my nerves flare a warning and a protective shyness takes over.

“Wildflower, I only want to kiss you. I need to kiss you.” His hands land at his sides with an exaggerated smack and his tone shifts to serious. “Do you actually want to do this?”

The way he says “Wildflower” melts me. I nod repeatedly and pout my bottom lip. My chest holds the tingles, the desire, the pull to him. “I don’t know what’s happening. It’s like each time we get near, one of our magnets flips over, shooting us far apart.”

“Oh. Talk dirty to me with science. Two poles of a magnet repelling.” He leans back and gives an approving nod.

The issue isn’t the repelling, it’s the pull. The thing I’m stuck on from the night we kissed is, he kissed me. He scrambled the natural balance of our friendship, messing with the normally clear division line. We crossed into the unknown and he was burned. Literally. I don’t want to get burned or set our friendship ablaze in a grand bonfire. And yet, I want to be kissed—by him. None of this is logical.

Author Bio:

Beck Erixson writes about the beautifully awkward world of navigating the journey to true happiness through friendships, love, and family—be it blood, found, or chosen. Her stories enhance the importance of positive interconnection, even when we feel lonely. She lives on the Jersey Shore, and can often be found either writing by the river, or in it in some way. Her short stories have appeared in Many Nice Donkeys, and Full Mood Mag.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram


GIVEAWAY!

Enter to win one of three paperback copies of Feeling Ballsy!
To enter, people need to follow @beckerixsonauthor, RT, and comment using the hashtags #feelingballsy AND #loveisawkward between 7/28/2023 and 8/8/2023!

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Giveaway – Yoga One For Me by Eden Bloom @XpressoTours

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Yoga One For Me
Eden Bloom
(Misty Falls, #1)
Publication date: October 30th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

They say you can’t outrun your problems, but that won’t stop me from trying…

Josie

It takes my boyfriend proposing for me to realize I need a new life plan, and fast! So I grab my yoga mat and hit the road. I talk my best friend into swapping places while I sort things out. Her small town of Misty Falls is incredible, and exactly what I need to rethink my life choices.

Everything is going great until I run into her brother Rake — literally — and my dinner ends up all over his clothes. Even covered in mashed potatoes, he’s gorgeous. Not that I care. The last thing I need is a relationship after just fleeing one…

Rake

The moment Josie dumps food on me, I know I’m done for. Between the tornado of a person she is and the unexpected surprise that she’s my sudden roommate, I’m in for a ride. But I’ve got too much at stake to let her become a distraction. My lifelong dream depends on staying away from her.

Even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Yoga One For Me is a sweet and funny romcom that will warm your heart. It’s a full-length standalone novel that takes place in a charming small town overlooking the beach. Once you step foot in Misty Falls, you won’t want to leave.

Goodreads / Amazon

Get it FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

—

EXCERPT:

I put down the yoga mat and check the fridge. It’s fully stocked with enough food to feed a football team. Raine went all out, and I only left her some bags to dump in the Crockpot. I owe her big time.

My mouth waters as I rifle through the contents of the fridge. I’m going to double my weight if I try to eat all of this before it goes bad. Most of it will end up in the freezer.

As my stomach roars, I make myself a plate of food and fill a glass with iced tea. Then I head for the dining room, my mouth watering.

I round the corner and crash into something. No, someone. A very tall and very muscular someone.

His eyes widen as my food smashes against his white button-down shirt and my black iced tea runs down his khaki pants, making it look like he wet himself. Maybe he did — I can be scary.

I scream. Smack his side with my plate. He’s surprisingly solid. “Get out!”

He backs up, holding out his hands. “Me? I live here. You get out!”

My pulse thrums in my ears. “No, I do. This is my house for the summer.”

“Says who?” He pulls mashed potatoes from his shirt and flops them onto my plate. His wavy, dirty-blonde hair blocks his face, and he brushes it aside getting food in it.

I get lost in his eyes for a moment. Until I remember that he’s an intruder, and my life is in danger. “Leave! Before I call the police.”

“Did you catch the part about me living here?”

I throw the potatoes back at him. “I don’t know who you are, but Raine said I’d have this house to myself.”

He’s really hot. Maybe he’s one of the guys she’s seeing, and he doesn’t realize she’s in Nevada. That makes sense. But why would he think he lives here?

“Where’s she?”

“If you live here, you should know.” I fold my arms.

He tilts his head, and while he looks menacing he also takes my breath away. “I don’t keep track of where my sister is.”

His sister? He’s Raine’s brother.

Crap. He really does have every right to be here.

Though we’ve never met, now I recognize him from the pictures I’ve seen over the years. He’s even taller and more gorgeous in person.

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “You’re Rake.”

“In the flesh.”

“You still have to leave. This isn’t part of my contract with Raine.” There is no contract. At least not on paper. But she did promise me the house to myself. That’s like a contract. In a way. Fine, it’s a stretch. But I’m going with it.

Rake’s brows furrow. “Leave? I need to shower, thanks to you.”

“After that, you can go.” I storm to my room, taking my useless plate of squished food with me. I’ve lost my appetite anyway.


Author Bio:

Eden has always lived in the Pacific Northwest, and it’s her favorite place to write about. She loves hiking in the great outdoors, sitting by lakes, watching waterfalls, and of course reading romantic comedies. There’s nothing like love and laughter to to lift a person’s spirits, and that’s a gift she hopes to share with all of her readers every time they open one of her books.

Goodreads / TikTok / Instagram


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Giveaway – Summer Veil by Olena Nikitin @XpressoTours @olena_nikitin

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Summer Veil
Olena Nikitin
(Season’s War, #4)
Publication date: July 28th 2023
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

Behold the monster that will shatter the world. Bear witness to her power in awe and despair.
Saga of the Last Empress

With their bond gone, Mar is determined to find Ina, even if he has to challenge the Gods to steal her back.
With an unparalleled enemy threatening Cornovii, Ina must restore her ability to use magic, or the country she fought so hard to save will fall under the axes of a merciless foe.

He would destroy the world for her. She would sacrifice her life to save it. Can the realm survive their love?

***

Immerse yourself in the final instalment of Season’s War series and learn about the kingdom of Cornovii, where passion is mixed with cruelty, and the unwilling hero with world-shattering power has to make impossible choices. Dark Fantasy with mature themes – reader caution advised.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

She let him live. No one was more surprised than Ina, and the beautiful blue sky seemed to mock the foul mood her choice had created. Yesterday, she’d almost killed the necromancer, but even though he deserved to die for the suffering he’d caused, the witch wasn’t sure she could make a rational decision when it came to Rurik.

Her night terrors were back, and the visions of a desolate desert with bleached bones lying under a crimson sun robbed her of sleep. Add to that her guilt at not dragging Rurik to Osterad and the even more disturbing desire to tear the magic from his soul meant Ina was closer to breaking than she’d ever felt before.

The possibility of becoming a world breaker worried her the most. Without Mar and Ren to help, something inside her soul was eroding, and she lost her temper more and more. First, she’d caused the storm, and then her hold on chaos had slipped in the alchemy workshop. If not for Velka’s intervention, Rurik would be a sad, wet mess splattered across the room.

The quest to restore her bond was no longer about the ability to control her magic, but about survival itself. You never know how much you rely on something until it’s gone, she thought, rubbing her chest. The safety of the bond and the power of two stones made her reckless—arrogant, even. Now, she was worse off than before that hairy oaf was dumped on her doorstep. At least then, she’d had a modicum of control over her emotions.

Thankfully, the situation wasn’t a complete loss. With Rurik’s confession, his plotting, at least its core, was laid bare, and without his interference, Liath and the South were as safe as they could be. The threat of invasion by the Iron Empire had terrified the necromancer enough to lock himself away and seek the oblivion of intoxication. That left Ina with a dilemma: did she travel to Osterad and warn the king of this latest threat, or try to repair her bonds so she could help defend the country from invasion?

‘Right, let’s try to fix my magic first. There’s no point in warning Rewan of an invasion if I lose my mind and kill everyone,’ she said, before turning from her inspection of the ceiling and sitting up. Ina looked at her clothes. Ayni’s armour and the simple dress she used to cover it were all she had, but for the alchemy workshop, she needed clothes that were easily replaced after any of her usual accidents. Her gaze fell on the storage chest next to the bed, and determined to find some work clothes, Ina opened the trunk to find a violet dress with lots of frills and puffy sleeves, which had been fashionable before she was born. The witch looked at the monstrosity, grinning at finding perfection for her messy experiments.

It took her a moment to push her bosom into the dress, but Velka’s horrified gasp was well worth it when she saw her at the top of the stairs.

‘Do you like it?’ Ina asked, twirling extravagantly before Velka grasped her shoulders.

‘So it finally happened. The last thread of sanity abandoned your wretched soul, and now you think you’re the Empress Sowenna. Ina, what happened yesterday? Could I have saved you from this if I’d stayed?’ she asked, shaking her friend frantically.

‘Don’t be silly, Velka. I just found some old clothes I can ruin without worrying. I’m sorry for scaring you last night, but I promise I’m calm enough to focus on repairing my bonds now.’

Understanding brightened Velka’s eyes. During their university days, Ina had always returned from alchemy class with stained, ripped, or burnt clothes; sometimes all three. ‘Damm it, Striga, you should have told me. I thought you’d lost your marbles after yesterday’s discussion with Rurik.’ Velka relaxed her grip, laughing with relief.

‘So you can face me down when I’m about to destroy the world, but one look at me in a dress, and you’re terrified?’ Ina enjoyed the absurdity of the moment before sobering. ‘I will be in the workshop. If you see Rurik, send him up. I’ll need his help to find out what poison Mirena poured into me.’

Author Bio:

Olena Nikitin is our pen name. We are an enthusiastic couple of writers who are fascinated by the fantasy/paranormal romance genre and decided to write a book we would love to read

Behind the Pen name:

Olga – is Polish, armed with a wicked sense of humour and typical Slavic pessimism she is the wicked witch from the East. She has written stories since childhood, initially mostly about her work. As an emergency physician, she always has a story to tell and often not much time to write.

Mark is a typical English gentleman whose charm, refined taste and an impressive collection of books were tempting enough to make Olga leave her homeland. Don’t tease him too much; this man has an impressive sword collection and he knows how to use it. He also can fix everything, including Polish syntax in English writing.

See more on our website: www.olenanikitin.uk

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Giveaway – Year Of The Fledgling by Linda Kage @XpressoTours @lindakage

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Year of the Fledgling
Linda Kage
Publication date: July 29th 2023
Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

Theron, the Eradicator, has one job: to protect the people of Starcast by killing the deadly creatures that attack them. That’s it.

Being an Eradicator comes with a heavy price, however, for he’s strictly prohibited from having any kind of personal contact with the villagers.

But one night, he sneaks into the town’s harvest festival, anyway, and meets the lovely, young healer’s apprentice.

As Theron grows close to her, it becomes harder to tell what’s more dangerous: risking a fatal injury while battling dark ones or risking fatal punishment by beginning a secret dalliance with a forbidden girl.

In either case, doom seems to be the only outcome, and tension mounts as love and danger blur across the reach of this fantastical, seaside landscape.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

She pounded on the thick door as hard and loudly as she could.

When it began to open and she had her first look at his face again—his features a mask of puzzled bewilderment—the terrible pressure in her chest finally released in a flood, and it all seemed to spill right out of her mouth.

“Wha…?” he started to ask.

But the flood had already hit her.

“I am beyond vexed with you,” she seethed, flinging off her hood so he could see the full extent of her rage before she pushed past him to enter the watchtower.

Theron glanced out into the darkening evening as if to make sure she didn’t have anyone else with her, then he shut the door and turned, lifting his eyebrows sternly. “Please tell me you did not walk up here by yourself.”

Ignoring his question, she demanded, “Honestly, how could you do this to me?”

“Are you absolutely mad?” he challenged right back, just as upset as she, and stormed forward. “What were you thinking? If someone had seen you—”

“They would’ve shrugged me off as you! But no one saw me. And I was thinking about how mad I am,” she railed, lifting her chin to meet his swirling, livid gaze.

Theron scoffed. “Yes, I can tell you’re unhappy, but that gives you no right to put your very livelihood at stake to come up here and tell me thus.”

“It’s my livelihood to worry about, and my right to risk it as I please.”

“And you are one of two people left in this entire, bleeding world that I’m allowed to still talk to. So I refuse to let you be so frivolous with your—”

“Argh!” she shrieked, lifting her hands and curling her fingers as if to display her claws at him. “You are so maddening.”

One of his eyebrows arched, then he burst out grinning. “But am I maddening enough for you to want to kiss me senseless again? Please say yes.”

She snorted. “Hardly. You’re certainly maddening enough to make me want to wring your fool neck as hard as I can, though.”

Lifting his chin to put his neck on full display, Theron countered, “Well, take your best shot, little healer-in-training. But first, would you at least tell me what I did wrong this time that made you so mad? A fellow appreciates at least knowing why he’s being strangled.”

Xia sucked in an irate breath. Then her chin trembled. And finally, the tears that she’d been holding back all the way from Norbin’s pig pen came gushing down her cheeks.

“You made me care for you!” she accused, weeping so soundly that her entire body shuddered and she had to cover her mouth with both hands to contain it.

Author Bio:

Linda writes romance fiction from YA to adult, contemporary to fantasy. Most Kage stories lean more toward the lighter, sillier side with a couple meaningful moments thrown in. Focuses more on entertainment value and emotional impact.
Published since 2010. Went through a 2-year writing correspondence class in children’s literature from The Institute of Children’s Literature. Then graduated with a Bachelors in Arts, English with an emphasis in creative fiction writing from Pittsburg State University.

Now she lives with hubby, two daughters, cat Holly, and nine cuckoo clocks in southeast Kansas, USA. Farm girl. Parents were dairy farmers. Was youngest of eight. Big family. Day job as a cataloging library assistant.

Harry Potter House Gryffindor, Patronus White Stallion, character match Hagrid. Supernatural Team Dean. Game of Thrones Team Jon Snow and Tyrion Lannister. The Walking Dead Team Daryl. Outlander Team Jamie Fraser. Teen Wolf Team Stiles. Avenger Team Thor…or Hulk (can’t decide). Justice League Team Flash. Arrow Team Stephen Amell. Stranger Things obsessed. Heard Laurel, not Yanny.

Started out reading with the Baby-Sitters Club. Then moved to Sandra Brown, Linda Howard, Julie Garwood, and LaVyrle Spencer in high school. Now all over the place with her romance reading tastes.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Instagram / Twitter


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Giveaway – Bewitching The Vampire by Brooklyn Ann @XpressoTours

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Bewitching the Vampire
Brooklyn Ann
(Brides of Prophecy, #9)
Publication date: July 21st 2023
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

The Lord Vampire of New Orleans meets his match in the leader of the local witch coven.

Magic is returning to Earth, and Raina Callahan’s witch coven is growing more powerful. She’s been warned to be wary of catching interest from dangerous people, and sure enough, she discovers that someone is following her. Her stalker turns out to be the owner of a vampire-themed club—who really is a vampire. And although he is dead sexy and charming, Raina is not okay with his surveillance or his intent to claim her as his. She will use every means of magic at her disposal to thwart him.

Valentin St. Scarasse, Lord Vampire of New Orleans, has a weakness for voluptuous women with magic in their blood. Just when he has his sights set on what promises to be a delicious meal—and maybe a few passionate nights in bed—the Thirteenth Elder commands him to watch over the witch and her coven and keep them safe. But when Raina catches Valentin spying on her, the witch and the vampire embark on a battle of wills that will only end if they surrender to the heat between them.

As the Evil One’s cultists invade the city, Raina and Valentin must learn to trust each other and together, help their communities form an alliance that both sides swore would never happen.

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

—

EXCERPT:

The sun had set by the time they left the restaurant. Raina groaned to see Valentin leaning against her car. “Did you even have time to feed?”

The vampire smirked and put his hand over his heart. “I’m touched that you care.”

“I just want to make sure that you aren’t planning on biting one of us.”

“And now you wound me.” Valentin gave her an unfairly sexy pout. “Ms. Callahan, I told you that your safety is of utmost importance to me. Now, may I have a ride, or will you make me walk?”

“Can’t you fly?”

His laughter held the texture of roughened velvet. “That is a rare ability with my kind.”

Raina wanted to ask more about what he could do but held her face in an impassive mask. “I guess you’ll have to take an Uber, then.”

With that, she and Alma got in her little Nissan Leaf and drove home. But when they pulled into the narrow driveway, Valentin was waiting on the curb, just outside the protective wards.

Raina glared at him as she got out of the car, noting that he remained outside the barrier. “I thought you couldn’t fly.”

“I can’t.”

“Did you turn into a bat then?” Alma asked him. “Or teleport?”

“I have my ways.” Valentin stood and dusted off his jeans. “You may as well invite me in.”

“Hell no,” Raina said as she shut her car door. “I’ve seen enough movies.”

The vampire laughed. “I don’t need an invitation to go inside your house. I’ve been in there before. You both have interesting taste in art. I especially like the movie posters. I’d just appreciate it if you to let down your ward.”

“No.”

His pout twisted things beneath her ribs. “I am tired of being outside.”

“Then go home.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Raina threw up her hands in exasperation, and she and Alma went into the house. They tried to ignore the fact that a vampire was lurking outside and watch a movie, but ended up turning it off and going to bed early. Despite her exhaustion, Raina tossed and turned for an hour, countless questions burning in her mind. She gave up on sleep, put on her robe, and went outside. Valentin was still sitting on the curb, reading a book.

He looked up with a smirk. “I’m glad you’re here to alleviate my boredom.”

“Who is Xochitl’s uncle?” Raina demanded, marching up to him.

Valentin’s eyes widened, and he visibly shuddered. “Probably one of the most terrifying beings in existence. I don’t know how much I’m allowed to tell you about him.” He sighed. “I honestly am sorry. I hate all these unknowns and uncertainties.”

“Me too.” She thought of her own concerns with the Nightwatch Society visitor and Xochitl’s email that gave her more questions than answers. Remembering the email, she found herself blurting, “Xochitl said you were watching me during the backstage meet and greet back in February. She said you looked like you wanted to eat me. What did she mean by that?”

The vampire’s lips curved in a wicked smile. “Exactly that.”

“But what—”

Suddenly, he stood behind her. Too late, she realized she’d stepped passed the protective barrier. Valentin’s fingertips swept her hair to the side, and his lips grazed her neck as he whispered, “If you’re asking if I want to sink my teeth into your pretty neck and taste your powerful blood, the answer is yes.”

Before she could respond, he appeared in front of her, his green eyes glowing like dark emeralds. “Or, if you’re asking if I want to part your luscious thighs and plunge my tongue into your plump pussy until you scream my name in pleasure, the answer is also yes.”

Raina shivered uncontrollably as the mental picture he painted sent frissons of arousal jolting between her legs.

“Of course, I will not do either unless you ask me to,” he finished while his eyes continued to blaze emerald flame.

Finally, her faculties recovered enough for her to pull away and step back into the safety of her barrier. “Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I have low enough self-esteem to fall for your attempts to flatter me.”

Valentin’s eyes hardened. “Just because society often lauds thinner women as paragons of beauty doesn’t mean I have to change my own personal tastes. Nor does it make you any less beautiful. Furthermore, I’ve never felt the need to feign attraction to someone. My flirtations are sincere. It’s one thing if my advances aren’t welcome, but quite another if you think I’m a liar.”


Author Bio:

Formerly an auto-mechanic, Brooklyn Ann thrives on writing romance, urban fantasy, and horror novels featuring unconventional heroines and heroes who adore them. Author of historical paranormal romance in her critically acclaimed “Scandals with Bite” series, urban fantasy in the cult favorite, “Brides of Prophecy” novels, rockstar romance in the award-winning, “Hearts of Metal” series, and horror in the “B Mine” series, horror romances riffing on the 1970s and 1980s B horror movies that feature a Final Couple instead of a Final Girl.

She lives in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho with her gamer son, rockstar/IT Guy boyfriend, three cats, a few project cars, an extensive book collection, and miscellaneous horror memorabilia.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Newsletter


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  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
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