#BookBlitz…Book of Watchers…#BookBoost #Fantasy #NA @XpressoTours @MaryTing

 

Book of Watchers
Mary Ting
Publication date: March 22, 2018
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult

Before the Bible, there was Book of Watchers.

Enoch wants to live an ordinary life. He’s content to lie low, skip his college classes, and avoid committing to any one girl. But ordinary isn’t on the syllabus for Enoch because at night, he dreams of demons. Vivid dreams that leave him wanting escape more than ever. When they escape his dreams and attack him during daylight, his reality becomes a nightmare.

As he pieces together the meaning behind the encounters, supernatural creatures emerge. Demons. Vampires. Witches. Angels. And they all want something from him. In a supernatural world he never thought possible, Enoch uncovers a secret that either will destroy him or force him to become much more than he ever wanted.

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The scent of my own flesh and blood seeped through the walls. I didn’t bother to knock on the door, but instead flicked my wrist to the side. My power tore the slab of wood off the hinges, and I walked in. The family of four became immobile, their eyes wide with terror as they watch me saunter into their lives.

            Fools.

They should be on their knees, bowing, worshiping me, but instead they stared like I was a ghost. Luckily for them, I felt tolerant. After all, I had come to claim my own. A happy occasion indeed.

            I didn’t hide my true form, and I supposed I would be horrified if I were human and saw the likes of me. A demon. Over seven feet tall with ripped muscles, I towered over the entire family. But my face, reptilian with hardly any nose and rows of teeth like shark’s—I was a thing of nightmares.

 

Author Bio:

International Bestselling Author Mary Ting/M. Clarke resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children’s chapter book-No Bullies Allowed.

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#BookBlitz…Shadows of Omega…#BookBoost #Dystopian #NA #BookLovers #Giveaway @XpressoTours @SummerEllenLane

 

Resurrection: Shadows of Omega
Summer Lane
Publication date: February 9, 2018
Genres: Dystopian, New Adult

The war is over. At last, Omega has been defeated, and the militias have found peace and stability. General Cassidy Hart has been elected to lead the newly resurrected post-apocalyptic government as President of the Western Republic. The world is a different place. From the ashes, structure emerges. From death, hope blossoms.

Yet the shadows of Omega remain. Omega loyalists and dangerous anarchists infect every level of the crestfallen civilization, threatening to undermine the Republic’s attempts to maintain peace. Most of the world’s population has been slain: those who remain alive have very different ideas about what must be done to continue to survive.

A seasoned war veteran, sniper, and leader, Cassidy resents the stifling role of presidential leadership. General Chris Young, her former fiancé, leads the United Militia’s military as it rebuilds. Her comrades from war have scattered, and the one person who understands her, truly and completely, has disappeared.

When a new threat emerges, one that could undo everything they have fought for, Cassidy is forced to make hard decisions and ask for help in places where she never imagined she could.

The old is gone. The new has come.
Welcome to the Hart Presidency. Welcome to the Western Republic.
The Resurrection has begun.

From prolific author Summer Lane, creator of the #1 bestselling smash-hit Collapse Series, Zero Trilogy, Bravo Saga, Unbreakable SEAL and Running with Wolves. Enjoy this new series, following the adventures of beloved heroine Cassidy Hart, along with some familiar faces that fans have come to know and love.

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The chopper takes a sharp right turn, and then we are turning back across the island, toward the eastern side. I peer out the window, retracing our flight pattern in my head, glancing sideways at the three men beside me. They are unfazed by the sudden change in direction. I glance up toward the cockpit. Something uneasy stirs inside me, but I push the feeling away.

I am safe with these men. If the pilot is altering course, it’s purely because there is a change in the weather pattern. He will get me to where I need to go.

There are a lot of people who would like to see you dead.

I curse myself, and then I shout,

“Hey, why are we turning?” The man beside me replies, “The pilot knows what he’s doing, ma’am.”

“That wasn’t my question!” “I’m not the pilot, ma’am. I don’t know.”

“Our flight pattern was very clear. We shouldn’t be altering course.”

“Ma’am, I don’t know—”

I reach toward the earpiece in my ear, intending to key into the pilot’s headset and inquire directly about our change in course. The man beside me places his hand on my wrist.

“Ma’am,” he says, firmly. “Don’t.”

I glance at his face. It’s hard to read his expression—stony, direct. I push his hand away.

“Stand down, soldier,” I say.

I raise my hand again, and this time, he grabs my wrist and shoves my arm behind my back. It happens in the span of a single breath—fast, fluid, and efficient. Unfortunately for him, I am equally as fast. One year on the road as president has not even slightly dulled my reflexes or instincts. I immediately take in three things about him: One, his patch reads Douglas. Two, he’s at least two hundred and fifty pounds. Three, he’s trying to break my arm.

I use my right hand to grab the knife in my boot and swing it around. I slash the right side of his cheek open and he screams. Hot blood gushes from his face. I realize in this moment that the other two men in the chopper have risen from their seats. At first, I think they are coming to my assistance.

Wrong.

One has his handgun drawn. I unbuckle my harness.

Adrenaline. Here it comes. The supercharged rush, the inhuman strength. It flashes through my body, giving me speed and finesse I have not experienced since I took on the mantle of the presidency.

 

Author Bio:

Summer Lane is the #1 bestselling author of 20 hit novels, including the Collapse Series and newly launched Resurrection Series, featuring popular heroine Commander Cassidy Hart.

Summer owns Writing Belle Publishing (a management company) and Writing Belle (an online magazine). She is an experienced journalist and writing instructor.

Summer lives in California with her husband, Scott, and their German Shepherd, Kona. She is an avid adventurer, animal lover, and coffee addict.

You can visit her at her website, summerlaneauthor.com, for new and upcoming book release information. To stay up to date on current titles and events, follow @writingbelle on Instagram, or @SummerEllenLane on Twitter. You may also check out Summer Lane on Facebook.

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#BookPromo…Survivor’s Dawn…#BookBoost #ContemporaryFiction #WomenFiction #New Adult Fiction @survivorsdawn

We are thrilled to be hosting Ashley Warren’s Survivors’ Dawn Blog Tour this month! Sign up to win a free copy by filling out form below. Good luck!

 

Title: SURVIVORS’ DAWN
Author: Ashley Warren
Publisher: Chaparral Press LLC
Pages: 316
Genre: Contemporary Fiction / Women’s Fiction / New Adult Fiction
BOOK BLURB: 
A heroic story of three college women’s fight for justice
At first glance, Brooke Flanagan, Lauren Le, and Nikki Towers have little in common: a churchgoing virgin, a party girl, and a resident advisor. But they all have their own dreams, dreams that can be shattered in a single night.
 
When freshman Brooke Flanagan first arrives at the university, she’s excited to escape her sheltered life in a Southern town. Lauren Le, a scholarship student, likes to have a good time, but she never disappoints her hardworking, single mom. Nikki Towers always goes her own way. Confident, poised, and wealthy, Nikki’s biggest problem is what to do with her future.
 
Into these girls’ lives walks Colin Jordan. Colin is the son of a private equity titan, captain of his club basketball team, and a brilliant pre-law student. He is also a sexual predator.
 
Survivors’ Dawn relates a journey of heroes: the strength, courage, and determination of the victims as they fight to survive; the obstacles they face in their pursuit of justice; and finally, with its conclusion, hope for a future where students can pursue their dreams without fear of being attacked.
 
A contemporary novel, Survivor’s Dawn wrestles with issues of privilege, sexual assault, and the responsibility of academic institutions to protect their students.

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LAUREN LE BEFORE:
At eleven thirty Lauren Le stood with
her new friends at the Homestead, a
lively bar in the Triangle. Everyone talked at once, shouting to be heard above
the music. The Homestead had space
for a couple hundred people, with a large square bar in the middle, dozens of
stand-up tables, and two dance floors. The constant beat and the bass notes
coursed through Lauren’s veins.
She
took a slug of the vodka soda.
Pace
yourself, Lauren.
It
had taken her a month to get comfortable on campus. She had grown up in Irving,
Texas, outside of Dallas,
and had never traveled this far to the east before starting school here. Some
of her high school friends had gone to college, but none as far away as Lauren.
They fell short when it came to grades and test scores and ambition.
Lauren
was the result of a short-lived and reckless affair between a Vietnamese
immigrant, Kim Le, who worked in a nail salon, and a tall Texan who lit out for
the oil rigs as soon as Kim missed her first period. Kim had never heard from
him again, and she seldom mentioned him to Lauren. As Lauren grew older she
became curious and would sometimes ask about her father.
“I
was stupid,” Kim had said. “I tried for a big dream with a big white man. But
he was no good.”
When
Lauren pressed for more information, Kim would grow adamant.
“You
forget about him. You need to study.”
If
Kim wasn’t working at the salon, a short distance from their apartment, she was
doing piecework for a local tailor. Kim never paid Lauren an allowance, but she
let her work a part-time job so long as she kept her grades near perfect.
With
a tired mother and an absent father, Lauren was forced to learn how to have a
good time on her own, and at that she had excelled. As a senior with a full
figure, a fun nature—her hobbies were cosplay, online gaming, and organizing
flash mobs—and a curious mind about partying and sex, Lauren had always
attracted guys.
She
had drunk one cocktail at the Italian restaurant and started with a shot of
tequila at the Homestead. When they
had first arrived, the girls danced as a group for nearly an hour, not allowing
the dearth of boys to deter them from getting the party started.
Lauren
took a break, her head buzzing slightly from the alcohol and the dancing. Cool
air from the duct above her whisked away the perspiration.
God,
college is fun.
The
bar began to fill, and boys drifted by their group in ones and twos. A
sophomore from New Jersey bought
her another drink. He was her height, with red hair, and talked fast in a
northern accent. He was almost cute, except for a big pimple and his lack of
coordination. They tried dancing but couldn’t make it work. Afterward, he told
her his dream of becoming a veterinarian. Snore.
Lauren
spied one of the resident advisors from Roxbury Hall, Nikki
Towers, watching her from the other
side of the bar. The girls had approached Nikki when they first entered the Homestead,
nervous because they had used fake IDs to get past the bouncer. They needn’t
have worried. Nikki’s nickname was Cool RA. She had a reputation for doing her
own thing in her own way and never traveling in a crowd. Cool RA had wished
them a good time but advised them not to get wasted. (“I’m your RA, not your
babysitter.”) Nevertheless, when Lauren caught Nikki’s eye, she could tell Cool
RA was not impressed with the New Jersey
kid.
“So…,”
he said, “do you want to come over to the frat house and listen to music? I’ve
got some killer weed.”
“Oh…well…like…”
His
eyes were glazed and his shoulders swayed, like a five-year-old on a bicycle.
Lauren wasn’t a fan of just-met sex. If he had been gorgeous, like Liam
Hemsworth, then maybe. Wait, maybe? Not maybe. Definitely! But she would not
have sex with New Jersey, at
least not tonight. “You know, I’m gonna hang with my friends a while longer.
Thanks, though.”
“Not
a problem. Catch you later.”
He
leaned toward her as if expecting something. She hesitated, unsure, and then
offered to shake hands. He only got about ten steps before he stopped to chat
up another girl.
“What
did he want?” said Caitlyn, her roommate. Caitlyn’s face turned sour as
Lauren told her of the invite to smoke pot. “Eewww! That guy?”
They
laughed. Lauren was light as a feather. She could party all night.
LAUREN LE AFTER:
At
two thirty in the morning an Uber
dropped Lauren outside Roxbury Hall. Lighting a cigarette, she gazed up at the
three-story brick building and remembered move-in day, how excited she’d been;
her mother and aunt and uncle had come to help. What had she wanted then? Freedom?
Relief from her mother’s watchful eyes? Yes, that was part of it, but she’d
hoped for a lot more.
Lauren
had smoked pot with her latest score, a hipster from California,
and now her head felt heavy and thick. After the joint he had wanted to have
sex again. She had no urge for an encore but couldn’t think of a polite way to
turn him down. What did that make in total? Three? Four? Five counting the
blackout sex with Colin Jordan. Five boys (men?) in four weeks. What the hell?
So weird. The hookups were like gorging on pizza, but the gnawing emptiness
she’d felt after Colin hadn’t abated at all.
What
did she have on the calendar for the next day? A couple lectures: Psychology
and English Lit. She might make it to class, or she might not. They were easy
courses anyway. Crushing the butt beneath her heel, she tossed it in a trashcan
and walked through the door.
Inside
Lauren’s dorm room, Caitlyn sat at her desk reading a textbook with her earbuds
in.
“Hey,”
said Lauren. “What are you doing up so late?”
Caitlyn
turned in her chair. “Studying for the psych test.” She sniffed the air.
What?
Caitlyn never studied this late. Lauren walked to Caitlyn’s side and saw, sure
enough, that the fat psych book was open a third of the way through.
“What
for? The test is next week.”
“It’s
tomorrow.”
“No,
it’s next week.”
“It’s
tomorrow. I texted you to study together, but you never answered. Where’ve you
been?”
Lauren
ignored Caitlyn and walked to her desk to check her laptop. The test had
to be next week; she’d skipped a few classes and hadn’t read the book. “What?”
“I
asked where you’ve been.”
“The
Homestead. I went for a drink.”
Fuck!
Caitlyn was right. The test was that morning—less than seven hours away. Lauren
shook her head. The buzz from the pot had turned into a headache. How did she
mess this up? Caitlyn was saying something else.
“What?”
“You
smell like cigarettes and pot. Where did you smoke pot?”
“Uh…I
stopped at this guy’s place to party.”
“On
a Tuesday? Shit, Lauren. What the fuck?”
“Hey,
you’re not my mom. Chill the fuck out.”
After
a shower and some caffeine, Lauren reviewed her notes and opened the textbook.
Caitlyn had gone to sleep, and Lauren’s desk lamp made shadows on the floor.
The quiet of the room calmed her, and for the first twenty minutes she made
progress, covered the better part of a chapter, but then her eyelids grew
heavy, and the words blurred on the page. A short nap would clear her head and
allow her to absorb the material with her usual speed. She set a twenty-minute
timer on her phone, lay down, and closed her eyes. The psychology concepts
quickly drifted away.
*
* *
Lauren
sat in the classroom, breathing fast; her eyes flitted back and forth over the
questions. Half of the class had already finished and left. She flipped back
several pages. Damn. There had to be another question she could answer,
but she couldn’t find it, and after another minute the professor called time.
She
had woken at eight thirty to Caitlyn
roughly shaking her shoulder.
“Wake
up! It’s time to go. I woke you twice already.”
With
no time to even brush her teeth, Lauren had pulled on boots and a clean top and
walked with Caitlyn to class. She had never felt so unprepared.
And
now she’d failed the test. Fucking flat-ass failed it.
Outside
in the bright sunlight, Caitlyn stopped to face her. Her eyes peered into
Lauren’s, her ever-present smile nowhere to be seen.
“How’d
you do?” said Caitlyn.
“Awful.
I really fucked up.”
“I’m
sorry. You know…I tried to text you.”
Lauren’s
legs were numb. Adrenaline had fired her up during the exam, but now all the
energy had burned off.
Caitlyn
headed off to another class, and Lauren trudged to the student union. She’d
spent the last of her cash on cigarettes. Once inside, she made it to the ATM
and took out ten dollars.
She
stared at the red and white logo on the touchscreen.
Bank
of America.
Her
mother’s apartment was two blocks from a branch. Kim would deposit cash tips at
the drive-thru while Lauren sat in the passenger seat. Some days at the salon
were hard. The owner would berate the workers for not learning English. But the
drive-thru had always lifted Kim’s spirits. On the way out she’d pause to look
at the B of A sign and say the same thing every time: “Your future is in this
bank.”
Lauren
took two steps and her knees softened. She turned her back against the wall and
sank until her butt touched the floor.
Don’t
cry. Don’t.
But
her throat tightened and warm tears forced their way through closed eyelids.
She sat with elbows on knees, her hands over her face. Silent sobs shook her
shoulders. Students walked past in the hallway, busy, with classes to attend,
futures to build. Two girls giggled, happy, oblivious.
Fuck.
What was happening? She was freefalling into black air.
Someone
said something. A man’s running shoes appeared through spread fingers.
“Are
you all right?” he said.
Lauren
pressed her palms against her eyes to rub away the tears. She wouldn’t compound
her failure by making people pity her, too. Pushing off the tiled floor she
stood, pulled her backpack over her shoulder, and faced him.
“You
looked kind of sad,” he said.
Who
was this guy? What was his game? Not bad looking, with strong shoulders and a
relaxed vibe, faded jeans and a simple black T-shirt.
“Do
you want to fuck me?” she said.
“What?”
His mouth opened. “No!” He stepped back and thrust his hands in front as if to
ward her off. “What’s the matter with you?”
Several
students stopped, sensing an incident of interest.
Lauren
marched away from the onlookers. She ran upstairs to the second floor and
exited onto the grounds on top of the hill. She kept walking, past the
admissions building and the Old Chapel and onto Philosopher’s Row. She took one
of the paths into the side gardens and dropped on a bench.
She
rocked slowly, hugging her arms. God, how pathetic was that? What would she do
next? She wanted to skip class and walk to the Homestead
for an early afternoon cocktail.
As
if clinging to the edge of a dark abyss, Lauren tried to hold on, her stomach
roiling, her arms shaking. She had propositioned the boy, because she had wanted
to fuck him. She wanted to fuck a guy…any guy…every guy.
But
why? She’d never done that before. Never on the first night…that was her rule,
one she’d broken how many times now? Five.
She
grasped the edge of the stone bench, squeezing, ignoring the grating surface
against her fingers. A bird sang from a nearby tree. The bird flew from one
tree to the next, a flash of red, a cardinal. It settled for a few moments on
the branch of a maple tree, whose leaves had begun to turn, sang, and flew off.
The
cardinal reminded her of Todd, the gay guy she’d met three weeks earlier, with
his bright plumage and sweet song. What had Todd told her as they waited for
the Uber driver? Something about the dean of student affairs. Maybe she should
check it out.

 About the Author

The unending accounts of sexual assault on college campuses compelled me to write Survivors’ Dawn.

My goal in writing the novel was NOT to focus on the act itself, but instead, to write of the victim’s journey, to tell a story about the strength, courage, and determination of survivors, to describe the difficulties they face in their pursuit of justice, and finally, to offer hope for a future where students can pursue their dreams without fear of being attacked.

As Lady Gaga’s “Til It Happens to You” implies, non-victims can never truly know how it feels to be assaulted, but we can try to empathize, and we can try to help. Awareness is key to reducing the incidence of sexual assault on campus. Please do your part by taking the It’s On Us pledge and contributing to organizations that are fighting on the front lines.

Thank you to readers who give me encouragement. It means so much to me. Word of mouth is an incredible thing, so thank you also for telling your friends about Survivors’ Dawn. 

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

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Ashley Warren is giving away a FREE
Kindle copy of SURVIVORS’ DREAM!

Terms & Conditions:

  • By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
  • One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter.
  • This giveaway ends midnight March 30.
  • Winner will be contacted via email on March 31.
  • Winner has 48 hours to reply.
Good luck everyone!

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#BookBlitz…Angel of Shadow…#BookBoost #Dystopian #Fantasy #NA @XpressoTours @dhnevins

 

Angel of Shadow
D.H. Nevins
(Wormwood #2)
Publication date: January 13, 2018
Genres: Dystopian, Fantasy, New Adult

D.H. Nevins hurtles you into a world of half-angels, demons and tormented love in this driving, dystopian sequel to Wormwood.

Half-angels, known as Nephilim, have all but destroyed the surface of the Earth. Yet for Kali Michaels, her life is now much more complicated than simply surviving. Grappling with her own powerful identity, she worries her connection to the world of Shadows could destroy those around her.
And what if she hurts Tiamat Wormwood, the Nephilim outcast who has given everything to save her? Tiamat and Kali know they have no future—not when outside forces and Kali’s own power push both the humans and the Nephilim to the brink of extinction.

As she fights to stop the inevitable, she is led to question who her real enemies are, and whether the ultimate threat may actually be herself.

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“Do we have to go back?”

“No way. We’re not going to be stopped by a few branches,” I said. Keeping one hand on his back, I reached over him and broke off a few more of the limbs that were directly in our way. I grabbed a thicker branch for balance and stepped around Bram, positioning myself in front of him. “I’m going to sit down here. Just put your arms around my neck and your legs around my middle, okay?”

I lowered myself onto the log and he obeyed silently. I could feel his small frame quivering as he latched onto my back. “Stop looking down,” I told him. “It’ll be easier.”

“How’d you know?”

“That you were looking down?” I felt him nod his head against my back and I laughed quietly. “You know you’ve been staring down there almost constantly. It wasn’t hard to guess.”

“Well,” he said in a soft voice, “it’s scary down there.”

“I know, kiddo.”

“And,” he continued, his voice even quieter, as though he hoped it would fade into nothingness, “your Shadow is down there.”

I stilled. “You don’t ever have to worry about my Shadow. I control it … and I wouldn’t hurt you with it, Bram.”

“Yeah. Alright,” he said softly.

I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he sounded like he believed me—a tentative belief, perhaps, but it would do.

 

Author Bio:

D.H. Nevins was born in Toronto and currently lives in a quiet area of Ontario, surrounded by forests and lakes. By day, she is a personable, friendly school teacher. By night, she silently chuckles as she writes about destroying the world. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys world travel, hiking, camping, flying around on her motorcycle or dabbling in live theatre.

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#BookBlitz…Queen of Corona…#BookBoost #Contemporary #NA #Giveaway @XpressoTours

 

Queen of Corona
Esterhazy
Publication date: December 15, 2017
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

Queen of a Corona delves into the mind of a young American adult growing up in today’s multicultural society. It is a human look at contemporary existence “from the bottom of the barrel.” It tells the story of a high school senior who is running after a student protest ends in tragedy. She is ushered onto an airplane by her mother, headed back to the land of her ancestors for the first time in her life. Her journey is both a way of escaping a seemingly dead-end existence and a chance at rediscovering herself by stepping outside the confines of societal standards. Queen of Corona is a coming-of-age novel in a dangerous age, in the age of Trump and all the forces stirring with and against the American president.

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I bet you thought I was going to fold. That I wouldn’t be able to resist that fine china-white powder resting right there in the sanctuary of my pocketbook.

But it stays tucked away the entire night, I swear. I ride my bike to the river to get some air. I sit down on the concrete bank and look out at the wilderness just across the water. At the narrow beaches spotted with bushes, fluo-green against the fading sky of late summer.

Here the riverside is wild, untempered. The bars along the water light up, the music gets louder. I go to the bar. As I’m standing in the endless line I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I count to five in my mind and I look up. Oh man, I think, here we go again. And I let myself fall into it one more time because I need anything to get myself out of this emotional hole I dug for myself.

At first, I’m confused. Because the face that is looking back at me is a face I know so well. A face so familiar and unfamiliar. A face I’d seen dozens of times, but not a face I’d ever called a friend. I stared at him as I tried to place him. He smiles back at me amused. The cogs in my mind begin to click. An actor. I know his face from the movies. That series on Netflix about the homicide detective addicted to porn.

I’m not drunk enough to get up the balls to sidle up to him all sassy and shit. But I don’t need to because he comes up to me. He looks me up and down and nods like he’s approving a shipment of the latest iPhone.

“Mind if I sit down?” he says in that Hollywood voice.

“Yes. I mean no. Why not.”

He says he’s here filming an episode where he’s chasing some jewel thief around Eastern Europe. He can’t believe I’ve never heard of his show. He doesn’t waste any time pouring me doubles out of the bottle the waitress brings over. He asks me if I want to dance and I follow him out to the dance floor. He’s a terrible dancer. He’s basically grinding against my pelvis and slobbering on me. Then he’s trying to get into my panties under my dress like we’re not out in the open and all these people aren’t looking at us. At some point, he grabs my hand and leads me towards the car he’s got waiting for him. I’m not good with cars, so I can’t say what kind of car it is, just that it’s shiny and black. The driver drops us off at one of the big hotels where he’s got a suite. He opens the door like he’s a sheik opening the palace gates. As if a hotel room that looks like millions of other hotel rooms around the world is going to make me go woozy with passion.

Pretty soon he gets back to his sloppy kissing. He’s got my dress off and he says he wants to fuck me like Charles Bukowski and I don’t know who he’s talking about.

I’m probably only fucking him because he’s famous, not because I really like him. What’s there to like in an arrogant middle-aged man with a paunch and a lazy eye? And what’s in it for him, fucking a girl young enough to be his daughter.

“Can I take a picture of you?”

I shrug and he takes it as a yes. He asks me to stop covering my breasts and to spread my legs. I feel horribly shy but it’s exciting at the same time to think this famous dude is going to be looking at my pictures later and reminiscing about our time together. But what if he posts them online? I should have said no. Julita tells me I’ve got a real problem saying no. I’m too much of a yes girl. A goddang people pleaser and where’s that been getting me? Not very far, eh? says the reasonable voice in my head. The other voice, the one that just wants me to take it easy and go with the flow, tells me that it’s fine. It’s just two consenting adults having a good time. Isn’t it?

We end up trusting celebrities almost implicitly, as if their fame is guarantee that they’re harmless. We trust them to tell us what’s fashionable and what’s not, how to eat and how to vote. And sometimes we let them fuck us just because they’re famous. And sometimes we let them get away with the worst.

He goes to take a shower and I walk around the room and look at the stuff lying around his room. There’s his passport on the table. I open it up and look at the picture, which looks nothing like him, he must’ve aged a lot in the past few years. I look at the birthdate and do the math. It turns out he’s 52, not 45 like he told me last night. I pick up my stuff and go straight out the door. I feel sick, not the throwing up kind, just the sick dismay of disappointment. Sick at how they think it’s okay to treat you like an empty shell of a person and then got the nerve to lie to you. I think this might be my breaking point. At last, you say.

I’m sobbing into my sleeve as I walk through the lobby and my mascara’s running all over the fucking place, so I sit down for a minute. In a flash, hotel security is coming my way and they’re asking me to leave and if I didn’t feel like a whore before then I definitely do now.

Author Bio:
Esterhazy is a journalist, writer and translator. A native New Yorker, she holds degrees in Comparative Literature from New York University and American Studies from the University of Warsaw. Queen of Corona is her debut novel.

 

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#BookBlitz…Blaze…#BookBoost #NA #UF @XpressoTours @SierraCrossBook

 

Blaze
Sierra Cross
(Spelldrift: Coven of Fire, #4)
Publication date: December 13, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy

The demon is still out there.

Tenebris—the monster who killed my parents, violated my mind, and destroyed my coven sister Callie—has gone into deep hiding. I won’t rest until I find him and personally take him down.

Luckily the vampires have a bead on him, and they want me along for the demon-hunting ride. But with his brand new skinsuit and the magic amulet he stole from a witch, Tenebris is more powerful than ever. I’m not dumb enough to go up against my mortal enemy without the Coven of Fire at my side. The vampires, however, flat-out refuse to let my “non-traditional” coven in on the job. It seems that no one in the magicborn community respects us, no matter how many lives we save or how many sacrifices we make. Callie was one sacrifice too many.

So screw the vampires. Forget working within a system that won’t accept us. Matt, Asher, Liv, and I may be misfits, but we’re a coven. And our coven is not complete without Callie. Somehow, we’ve got to track her down and find a way to save her. Then, we’re going to avenge our loved ones and take down Tenebris once and for all…but we’ll do it as a coven. As a family. One witch for all and all for one, no magicborn left behind.

Goodreads / Amazon

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For a limited time you can grab RISE, the first book in the Coven of Fire series, for just .99¢!

“I’m sorry, Director,” I said. “Something’s come up. I’m afraid I can’t get on that plane.”

Bonaventura spun and sucked in a breath in that almost soundless way only a vampire could. He’d already thought I was a flaky amateur, now he probably thought I was a nutcase. Even Matt and Asher were looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I could really see how it might look that way.

Didn’t matter. Callie was my coven sister, and she needed us to save her. Family first.

“So am I to understand,” Bonaventura’s voice dripped with condescension, “that after begging me to help with the amulet, insisting you be present when Tenebris is killed, you’re now refusing to accompany me?”

“Believe me, if it weren’t absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t do this.” My magic was begging to come to my fingertips. But starting a brawl with a vampire seemed like one of those “poor life choices” they’d warned me about in middle school.

Bonaventura composed himself with a smooth exhalation, then turned to Liv. “I suppose you’ll have to do.” Another finger-snap. “Let’s go.”

“It’s a coven matter that has come up,” Liv said. “None of us can go.”

“We’ll send you the deactivation spell,” I said, not caring in the least that I was giving up the only leverage we had with the Director.

If Bonaventura could’ve killed me with a look, I’d be bleeding out right now. I’d seen what he’d done to Wes, his own son. I got the feeling he was picturing doing worse to me. “Not an option, Ms. Hill.” The terminal dropped ten degrees in an instant. “One of you two witches will board the plane. Or I will release you from your pitiful existence.”

Strange what a difference a little blood could make. More than scaring me, those words hurt. I’d disappointed him. I took a deep breath and shrugged off his compulsion. Vampire mind tricks aside, I owed no loyalty to Bonaventura. And as badly as I wanted to take Tenebris down, I needed to do this more. “If you want to try,” I said, “have at it.”

Matt, Liv, and Asher had already flanked me, ready to fight at my side even if they didn’t fully understand. Bonaventura’s crew did the same for him. The Director narrowed his eyes, looking at each of us in turn. I couldn’t decipher the calculations he was making behind those ice blue eyes. “Know this, witch—and this goes for your whole coven—when our paths cross again it will not be a friendly encounter.”

My heart was racing. Did I really want to make the director of the Council Suprema my enemy? But what choice did I have? We had to follow up on that phone call. We had to find my coven sister. “If that’s how you want to play it.” I hoped there’d be a way to make things right with Bonaventura later.

The Director turned on his heel and all the other vampires followed suit. I watched as they disappeared through the gate door.

“Alix, luv.” Asher turned to me, his voice sweet as saccharine. “Be so kind as to tell me why I just voluntarily incurred the wrath of the one of most powerful vampires in the northern hemisphere?”

 

Author Bio:

Spells and skyscrapers. Warriors and warlocks. Coven secrets and forbidden romances. Sierra Cross lives for urban fantasy, for modern magic and the bold supernatural beings who stalk our contemporary world. Her Spelldrift universe stars kickass witches and their heroic guardians, as well as vampires, shifters, mages, Fidei, and the dark demonic forces that threaten them all.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Amazon

 

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#CoverReveal…The Lost Savior…#BookBoost #YA #NA #BookLovers @lolasblogtours @siobhandavis

Today is the cover reveal for The Lost Savior by Siobhan Davis. This cover reveal is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours.

The Lost SaviorThe Lost Savior (Alinthia #1)
By Siobhan Davis
Genre: Paranormal Romance/ Reverse Harem
Age category: upper Young Adult / New Adult
Release Date: 30 January 2018

Blurb:
They came from another world to protect her. Now it’s her destiny to save them …

Tori King is a normal senior in high school. Head over heels in love with her childhood sweetheart, she is busy making plans for college when a chance encounter with an alien bounty hunter turns her world upside down. Now, she’s experiencing terrifying changes and developing supernatural abilities that leave her questioning her entire existence.

Then the arrival of four hot new guys at school has everyone talking—especially when they become fixated on Tori, following her wherever she goes. She can’t shake them off, and as they grow closer, she finds herself drawn to all four of them in ways she cannot explain.

When they finally reveal their true identity, and why they’re here for her, she discovers everything she thought she knew about herself is a lie.

Because there is nothing normal about Tori King.

And she’s about to discover exactly how underrated normal is.

This mind-bending paranormal alien reverse harem series is only suitable for readers aged seventeen and older due to language and mature content.

You can find The Lost Savior on Goodreads

Sign up here to be notified when this book goes on pre-order! You will also receive an email when it’s released in January.

Check out the cover for The Secret Heir (Alinthia #2)!
The Secret Heir
Add The Secret Heir to your to-read list on Goodreads

SiobhanAbout the Author:
USA Today bestselling author Siobhan Davis writes emotionally intense young adult and new adult fiction with swoon-worthy romance, complex characters, and tons of unexpected plot twists and turns that will have you flipping the pages beyond bedtime! She is the author of the international bestselling True Calling, Saven, and Kennedy Boys series.

Siobhan’s family will tell you she’s a little bit obsessive when it comes to reading and writing, and they aren’t wrong. She can rarely be found without her trusty Kindle, a paperback book, or her laptop somewhere close at hand.

Prior to becoming a full-time writer, Siobhan forged a successful corporate career in human resource management.

She resides in the Garden County of Ireland with her husband and two sons.

You can find and contact Siobhan here:
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#BookRelease…Dissension…#BookBoost #NA #PNR @MoBPromos @KrissyGirl122

DISSENSION
A Deliverance Novel, Book 2
by Kristy Centeno


Genre: NA Paranormal
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing

In an age where humans dominate the world…
 
And supernatural creatures exist in the cover of darkness…
 
He must find a place among his rivals or risk losing it all.
 
Hayden has had his hands tied coping with life outside of the Institutes. He’s come far despite all the bumps along the way. He’s allowed himself to believe he could live a normal life…until a new threat makes its presence known.
 
In an instant, his entire life is flipped upside down once more. Those he cares for are not safe with or without him. There’s no escaping his past. Or permanent solution to his problems. One way or another he’ll become the target for all those looking to destroy the hybrid who endangers their way of life and challenges everything they’ve ever known.
 
Now he must decide between kill or be killed, and risk becoming the very monster he’s fought so hard to prove he’s not. Freedom has come with a price, but is he willing to pay the cost?


“Where is Kristina?” Rose elbows her way to the front of the procession, ignoring the quick glares Bray’s werewolves direct at her.
 
Kristina.
 
I scan the crowd, accounting for everyone except her. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. She was here a moment ago. Where did she disappear to? A frightening realization assails me and I do a quick body count of Jovian’s men. Two are missing. Neither here nor among those I mangled in the fight.
 
Fixated on the spot where I last saw her standing, I dash toward it. My nostrils flair as I breathe in, detecting three distinct scents. One of which belongs to her.
 
The woods. They took her.
 
Without a second thought, I race into the woodlands, following the vampires’ scent. My feet heavy, as if they’re made of lead. I fly between trees, moving at record speeds, but even so it’s like I’m not making any progress. As if the world is at a standstill. The more distance I cover the farther away she feels.
 
She’s gone.
 
Dismay settles in, filling me with trepidation and lack of confidence. I’ve lost her trail. I read the signs left on the earth. Two sets of footprints now instead of three. She must have not been walking from this point on. Where were they taking her?
 
Afraid of what I will find at the end of the trail left by the pair who carried her away, I use my preternatural senses to put together a possible scenario. I don’t detect either the vampires or Kristina. No unusual sounds anywhere that can point me to where she is.
 
Still, I push on. Despite my conscious stating repeatedly that she’s no longer within the vicinity, I trudge on. Injured and weak, I begin to feel the results of the multiple encounters with Jovian and his men. But I don’t care. My body will heal. Kristina, however, will not. If they harm her…

AmazonInkteraiTunes  KoboGoodreads

He’s been locked away his entire life.

He dreams of freedom.

The only way he can accomplish his goals is by breaking free of the chains tying him to a dark past and gloomy existence. But there’s one catch. He’s not human.

And he’s never set foot outside his jail.

Devoted to saving his peers as well as his own life, he sets out to find the one person that can help him achieve his objectives. He knows where she will be and what she will look like, but what he doesn’t anticipate is the fact that he finds himself caring for the girl whose life he’s put at risk, more and more each day.

 He has no name.

 He has only known hatred and violence before her.

 However, she will teach him to have faith in humanity, even if she can’t trust him.

Together they will embark on a journey to bring down a corrupt system responsible for the loss of many innocent lives. But when he finds his feelings compromised, can he still move on knowing that doing so will put an end to the life she once knew? How far is he willing to go to be free?

Kristy Centeno is the author of the Secrets of the Moon saga and Keeper Witches series.

She has always had a passion for books and after years of being an avid reader, she decided to transform her desire to write into a reality and thus, her first novel was born. When she’s not busy taking care of her five children or holding down the fort, she finds time to sit and do what she loves the most: writing.
 Website ✯ Twitter ✯ Goodreads ✯ Amazon ✯ Facebook ✯ Blog 
✯ Pinterest ✯ Google+
 

#Book #Promo…Deliverance…#BookBoost #PNR #NA #Giveaway #OnTour @SDSXXTours @KrissyGirl122

Deliverance
By Kristy Centeno
Genre: Paranormal, New Adult

He’s been locked away his entire life.

He dreams of freedom.

The only way he can accomplish his goals is by breaking free of the chains tying him to a dark past and gloomy existence. But there’s one catch. He’s not human.

And he’s never set foot outside his jail.

Devoted to saving his peers as well as his own life, he sets out to find the one person that can help him achieve his objectives. He knows where she will be and what she will look like, but what he doesn’t anticipate is the fact he finds himself caring for the girl whose life he’s put at risk, more and more each day.

He has no name.

He has only known hatred and violence before her.

However, she will teach him to have faith in humanity, even if she can’t trust him.

Together they will embark on a journey to bring down a corrupt system responsible for the loss of many innocent lives. But when he finds his feelings compromised, can he still move on knowing that doing so will put an end to the life she once knew? How far is he willing to go to be free?

Kristy Centeno is the author of the Secrets of the Moon saga and Keeper Witches series.

She has always had a passion for books and after years of being an avid reader, she decided to transform her desire to write into a reality and thus, her first novel was born. When she’s not busy taking care of her five children or holding down the fort, she finds time to sit and do what she loves the most: writing.

 

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#Bookblitz…Poetic Freedom…#BookBoost #BookLovers #Poetry #YA #AfricanAmerican #Giveaway #OnTour @RABTBookTours @EatmyFrank11

Poetry/African American/YA/NA
Date Published: (Planned) Oct., 30, 2017
Publisher: Phenomenal One Press
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Poetic Freedom.

A raw, gritty, urban poetic expression with an exploration of choices we have to make at the crossroads of life. The thoughts are honest, harsh, but hopeful. A perception of the media that feeds us, the spirituality that we cling to, the expectations of the society we are a part of, and how a young man fights to decipher, decide and climb the path not easily traveled, but most strengthened.

~Excerpt from Poem THE TEST by Frank Preston

Pain and frustration the fuel for admiration
Admiring the world’s temptations till they become motivation
When the sensation of success is worn as a vest
They say he’s blessed but that depends on the quest

About the Author
Frank ‘ThatGuy’ Preston, is an artist with a powerful voice. His journey as a comedian, author and motivator didn’t come easily and has lead him to have give back to the community by coaching kids, co-creating new sports, and sharing his growth through comedic videos, in person performances, his art and writing. He challenges the minds of his readers to see life through a different scope. As a speaker he explains the difficulties of life as a minority in a world that doesn’t accept him, and how anyone who is mistreated for their differences can overcome them to grow to be great. Frank positions himself as many other artist, writers, and speakers of today, but stands apart in his ability to speak the truth with no bounds.

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#Bookblitz…Murder Feels Bad…#BookBoost #Mystery #NA #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

Murder Feels Bad
Bill Alive
(Empath Detective, #2)
Publication date: October 24, 2017
Genres: Mystery, New Adult

He can feel people’s emotions. And murderers feel super bad.

Mark Falcon, an aspiring detective and (for now) reluctant web developer, has a secret. He can “vibe” other people’s emotions. And when a wedding gets crashed by a seeming suicide, Mark vibes that there’s one aloof groomsman who wasn’t surprised at the death. Problem is, this guy’s also the only current lead for Mark’s website business. And both Mark and I (his trusty sidekick/housemate) are dead broke.

Then, we get our first-ever real detective client … and she’s afraid the wedding killer wants to kill her next.

Exciting, right? Except her reason sounds … delusional. But Mark does vibe that she’s in real danger. Also, she’s super hot. And possibly into me…

Meanwhile, the cops tell us to back off the whole thing, or else. Even when more people in our small Virginia town start dying.

With the cops threatening jail (again), quirky locals turning lethal, and a spiritual crisis on my part which has really bad timing, Mark and I are racing to catch a killer who seems ready to murder anyone…

Including us.

Murder Feels Bad is the second novel in the Empath Detective mystery series, a new cozy mystery series that totally really happened, but is officially fiction. If you like Janet Evanovich, M. C. Beaton, Deb Baker, and long lists of famous author names, you’ll love this new series that has it all — amateur detectives you’ll love, zany small-town characters, sparkling wit, and a cold-blooded killer you’ll never even suspect.

Goodreads / Amazon

… But you do at least know about the empathy thing, right?

Okay. Super fast, so we don’t bore all the organized readers … my friend, housemate/landlord, and sidekickee Mark Falcon (I’m the sidekick) is the world’s one and only legit empath detective.

He can feel other people’s emotions. Even when he doesn’t want to.

Which is crazy awesome, but on top of that, Mark has chosen to use this superpower to fight crime, vibing the innermost secrets of real-deal murderers and bringing them to justice. So far we’ve been at it for a solid month.

And there were these two suspects, Dr. Jivanta Kistna and, um, this other guy I won’t name in case you didn’t read Book 1 (Murder Feels Awful) yet, and they did a bunch of crazy stuff I can’t tell you about here but the upshot was, they decided to get married.

Like, right away. I don’t know how they pulled that off, since Jivanta’s family turned out to be Catholic and I thought they had rules about that. I think Jivanta wanted to get the wedding in while the Blue Ridge Mountains were still at Peak Autumn Gorgeous.

In a good year, the view out here in rural Virginia is continuously breathtaking. You can’t even (for instance) be running late for a wedding without a lush distant backdrop of mountainous fall foliage, serene in every direction.

Unfortunately, if you are running late for that wedding, the fantastic scenery on a crisp sunny morning just seems wildly inappropriate, even sinister…

[Mark, Pete (the narrator), and Pete’s plus-one, his nurse friend Ceci, barely make it to the wedding on time…]

We grabbed a pew, just as the music fired up and the first awkward couple started the long march.

I didn’t know any of these people, but Ceci was craning to see the entire wedding party with endless enthusiasm. She’d probably know half of them by the end of the reception.

I caught her eye and grinned. She grinned back, sparkling and happy.

Then Jivanta made her entrance.

I hadn’t seen Jivanta since the “suspect party”, weeks ago. Even in civilian clothes, Jivanta’s eyes and smile can induce a mind-altering state. Now, maxed out in makeup and a bridal gown…

… I kind of blissed out.

Except the bliss was steeped with pain, because how could I ever really have a woman like that?

When my trance faded, Ceci was staring ahead, obviously hurt.

I gave an inward sigh. Even though we were totally here as friends, it couldn’t feel great to have your dude gawking at another woman … especially the bride. I realized I’d have to show some finesse here. Not only is Ceci one of my best friends, but I’d been racking up karmic debt to her like crazy, especially lately. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel bad.

I leaned toward her to whisper some smooth reassurance.

Oops. Wrong sight line.

Because in the next pew over, the hottest blonde I’d seen in months stood alone.

She didn’t just stand, she had that curvy lean thing going on, relaxing on one black-hosed leg, where a woman has so much pent-up curvaceous goodness in so many ways that she can’t even stand up straight, she has to slow burn in a sinuous stance of sensuality.

Even as I looked, she turned right toward me, locked my gaze in her own mascara-ringed infinities, and smiled. At me.

And I thought I’d been blissing over Jivanta.

Ceci groaned.

I startled, panicking that I’d been caught again. “What?” I whispered.

“Female emergency,” Ceci hissed.

“What is it?” I whispered. “You can tell me.”

“No I can’t,” she snapped. “Save my seat.”

She slipped out and clacked away down the aisle. She always wobbles a little on those unfamiliar high heels.

With Ceci gone, the pull of the blonde amped up like crazy. I was terrified to look back, terrified not to look back. At the front of the church, the wedding had already begun, but I was in another world entirely.

Beside me, Mark grunted. “Seriously, Pete? Now?”

Have I mentioned that Mark and I have this weird connection? And it’s getting worse. I wouldn’t mind so much if I could vibe his thoughts once in awhile.

“Dude,” I whispered. “Look at her.”

Mark flicked her a glance. “So?”

“So?” I said. “Can you see if she likes me?”

“WHAT?” he snapped. “Did you not hear anything last night from my Akina disaster?”

Oh right. The night before, we’d stayed up too late doing this whole interview thing that turned into a novella. Like, literally, it’s a novella now, you can read it. And it’s free, it’s a mailing-list-only thing — but don’t go get it now if you haven’t read it, I’ll put the link at the end.

All you need to know here is that in Mark’s distant past, trying to vibe whether women liked him had led to, um … problems.

“That was different!” I said.

“Sure it’s different,” he said. “You’re fricking here with Ceci.”

“As a friend! And I’m not going to ignore Ceci, I could just get the girl’s number—”

“No! Besides, I’ve got my shields maxed out.”

You remember shields, right? In theory, an empath can reduce the constant emotional onslaught by visualizing some kind of shield. A castle wall, a glowing force field, whatever. But it takes a lot of concentration, and it’s not super reliable, especially (apparently) at keeping out me.

“Why would you have your shields up?” I said. “It’s a wedding!”

“Are you kidding? Weddings are worse than funerals. Every woman’s comparing herself to the bride, every dude’s wishing he could have the bride—”

“Okay, okay, TMI!” I said. “But can’t you just do a quick check? It’ll only take a minute.”

“No.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just be wondering the whole time.”

Mark eyed me. “You’re going to regret this,” he muttered. “At least try to calm down, you’re causing major interference.”

He closed his eyes and looked focused.

I strained to be calm. I tried to focus anywhere but the woman … anywhere at all…

The priest at the front was super young. He was cracking awkward jokes about him being a new priest and this being his first wedding, and hoping he could say the same for Jivanta and the groom. That one didn’t land so well.

I was trying so hard not to look at Mark and guess what he was reading.

Then he gasped.

And not just any gasp. The kind that made the skin of my neck start to crawl.

I looked. He was darting gazes in every direction like a bloodhound.

“What is it?” I whispered. “Does she secretly hate me?”

“It’s not her,” he snapped. His eyes narrowed. “Something is very wrong.”

The priest made another awkward stab at humor, how he was pretty sure he was more nervous than the bride and groom. He’d woken up that morning praying nothing would go wrong—

CLANG.

Everyone in the entire church jolted. What the hell was that?

CLANG. CLANG.

The bell. The bell in the old tower was booming, blasting through the church like an air raid siren.

The priest’s smooth face creased with anxiety.

Mark shoved out of the pew and ran for the back. I stumbled after him, my heart thudding.

As we rushed into the lobby, a piercing wail shrieked beneath the bell.

It was a kid, howling.

And beneath that, a new yell of pain was stabbing us, a woman crying for help.

We followed the cries and burst through a side door into an old brick hallway that led to the tower. We nearly collided with the fat, familiar woman I’d seen before, who was still clutching the cute toddler. Both their faces were distorted with terror. The woman was fleeing, and the girl was squirming frantic against her, trying to escape even faster, mashing her mother’s shoulder with some old holy card. Even in that moment, I noted that the card had a delicate border of lace. It was getting crushed.

Then I saw behind them.

The frayed end of a thick rope lay on the old brick floor like the rattle of a snake. The rope wound back to what was left of a woman.

I could only look for a split second.

The body was crushed and obscene, like a broken deer on the side of the road, the red half-eaten carcass stretched across the asphalt. Except this was much worse.

Revulsion clenched me. I could already feel the doom of my future nightmares. I had to look somewhere, anywhere else. I looked up.

High in the tower, in the dizzy upper darkness, the broken rope dangled. The bell was still ringing from the force of the body’s release…

 

Author Bio:

You know how you keep reading piles and piles and piles of mystery series, and most of them are, like, moderately okay … at least, there weren’t too many typos … and your eyes aren’t actually bleeding …

… but then … THEN … every so often … WOW, you’re just smitten.

The style is fabulous, the people are hilarious, the action is fantastic and terrifying and gut-wrenching and you just want to shout, THIS! This right here! Why can’t they all be like THIS?

The next time you find a series like that, could you PLEASE TELL ME?

I mean, please tell this Bill Alive author guy?

Because otherwise, he’s just going to keep trying to write them.

Which is super fun. See that smile? He’s clearly enjoying himself.

But still. Once in awhile, the guy needs to see how it’s done. What’s your favorite series? He’ll probably love it too.

Website / Goodreads

 

GIVEAWAY!

Mark Falcon, the Empath Detective, may be able to sense people’s emotions, but the rest of us need a little help. If you win this giveaway, you’ll not only get paperback editions of all Mark’s detective adventures so far (including his prequel novella, ORIGIN STORY, which you can’t even BUY in print, because it’s only a gift ebook for my email list friends) … you’ll also get the technology to BE an empath yourself! I refer, of course, to … MOOD RINGS!

According to the happy Amazon reviews, this mood ring actually DOES CHANGE COLOR! (And does NOT turn your finger green! ) These are nice. Plus, you’ll get TWO rings … the possibilities are endless … you and your significant other could start to feel a whole new connection … or, alternatively, you could “gift” a ring to a particularly inscrutable colleague … or crush …

The rings will be available in size 7, 8, or 9 — just let me know which size you want for each of your two rings. Man, I wish I could enter this contest myself…

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#Bookblitz…Stolas…#BookBoost #NA #PNR #Giveaway #OnTour @R_CooleyWilson @XpressoTours

Stolas
Randi Cooley Wilson
(Dark Soul, #1)
Publication date: May 22, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal

An ancient legend draws them together. His dark soul will tear them apart. Sometimes the only fairytales that exist are the dark ones.

For the past two years, Hope Annandale has fought to hold onto her sanity. Plagued by voices and visions, she struggles to understand what’s real, and what’s an illusion. As the lines between reality and hallucination blur, Hope discovers things that shouldn’t be real, suddenly exist. When Hope’s world falls apart, figuring out the secrets of her past becomes a matter of life and death. And the only one who can save her is the dangerously attractive demon prince, who is bound by an ancient legacy to betray her. The fate Stone has fought to escape is here. With destiny on one side, and desire on the other, Stone must protect Hope from the one thing he can’t hide from, his birthright.

What if the one person you were meant to be with could never be yours? Stolas, the first novel in the Dark Soul series is a riveting tale of passion, danger and forbidden love. Intended for mature readers 18+ due to language, violence, sexual situations and dark themes.

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Dark thoughts loom in the back of my mind as I hover over this mortal. As much as she intrigues me, my frustration with her for trussing me to this self-imposed protection detail is festering. I’m programmed to despise human and divine life, not bind myself to it.

“I’m the prince of darkness, sweetheart, not a bodyguard,” I whisper into the night, and brush the hair away from her face, wanting to feel her soft skin against my fingers.

I’d allowed my temper and frustration with the archangel to get the best of me, tethering myself to this oracle. A mortal with a divine soul. One my father wants to use for his own selfish revenge. The dull irony is that I’ve vowed to safeguard her from the one thing I will never be able to protect her from—my own birthright.

I move away from her, even though it’s the last thing I want to do, and take a seat in the chair facing her bed. I should have made her leave last night, but it doesn’t matter now. I couldn’t stay away from her any longer. Vassago wouldn’t allow it.

She is my mission. She has chosen her fate. And I’m bound to save her from the one thing I can’t protect her from—my dark soul.

 

Author Bio:

Randi Cooley Wilson is the bestselling author of The Revelation Series, The Royal Protector Academy Novels, The Dark Soul Trilogy, and “Covetousness” a Havenwood Falls Novella. She resides in Massachusetts with her husband and daughter.

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#Bookblitz…Beautiful Dead…#Fantasy #NA #PNR #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

The Beautiful Dead
Jun Prince
Publication date: September 22, 2017
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal

Yubin knows she’s different than the other girls in the pop group SIITY. Yes, they all got sucked into the same machine, giving up schooling and signing ridiculously long contracts before anyone knew if they’d be successful, but that’s how pop stars are made in Korea. Yubin is supposed to be thankful for that, but she isn’t. She doesn’t even like the girls she performs with.

She’s more connected to her former schoolmate Jieun, even though all they ever do is text. Over the last two months, Jieun has become her confidant and best friend, connecting Yubin to the real world in a way she desperately needs. Now that SIITY is going to appear on the reality show The Incredible Race: Asia, Yubin will need that connection more than ever, which is why she’s devastated to discover Jieun has been dead five years and is actually haunting her.

If that weren’t enough, Yubin’s not the only SIITY member with issues. Rena’s father is emotionally abusive. Somi has a learning disability, and after a near death experience, Tae-eun becomes a nine-tailed fox woman. The only way they’ll survive the show, each other, and the supernatural currents buffeting them is to work together and win the hearts of their fans. Because if they don’t, they have nothing to go back to even if they survive what’s trying to kill them.

Goodreads / Amazon

She was still unaccustomed to spirit combat, but a small tempest swirled in the underworld around her. Humans too felt the wind she created, their muscles tightened, and more than a few quickened their pace to evade the chill. Scraps of litter spiraled over real world concrete, and whips of black hair whirled in an angry nimbus around Jieun’s face.

The shadowman looked up. She’d expected empty pits of darkness where eyes should have been, but when the creature ceased feeding, a set of all too human brown eyes that now lacked eyelids appeared in the monster’s head. They contrasted with the rest of its body in that while the majority of the creature lurked in shadow that was darker than everything else in the Dead World, these two spheres burned as if absorbing all the spirit light that should have detailed the shadowman’s body. The flow of spirit energy that connected its ugly mouth to the girl stopped, and the ghost realized that she held the creature’s attention.

The shade of an eerily human face like black paint on even blacker canvas contorted in what could have just as easily been taken for triumph or rage. It unleashed an otherworldly snarl that was anything but human and charged Jieun. Though it had a man’s body, it rushed in an inhuman lope on all fours that seemed more like an animal. Jieun darted out of the way—it wasn’t a conscious thing, and the instinct may well have saved her dead life. If she hadn’t known before, alarm she felt made her certain; ghosts could die a second death.

She whirled after the attack expecting the shadowman behind her but it had vanished. She sighed in relief. Then, without warning she saw the black shape leap from the roof of a magazine stand just outside the subway station. She cried out in alarm, and before its feet had touched the ground its giant mouth fastened on her shoulder. The weight of the attack forced her to the ground, and in a moment of dawning horror she realized it was impossible to escape.

She shrieked. The pain was beyond anything she imagined possible for a spirit to experience. It wasn’t like trailing her fingers through the wall, or even passing completely through a physical object. Those pains were an affirmation of life, cold shocks that, while not comfortable, served as a reminder that she was still in some sense alive. The feeling of her spirit body being torn apart by the shadowman’s teeth seemed as if the devil had run away with God’s scalpel and used it to peel thick ribbons of her soul away from creation.

Though the shadowman looked like and had similar features to a man, it made low growls that were far distant from human speech. It wasn’t a language at all – if it had been she’d have instinctually understood it. It shook its head like a starved wolf and further tore into the fabric of firelines that composed her spirit body. Its breath smelled of rotten flesh, and she could hear the pulse of bestial rhythmic snorting in her ears. She needed a weapon. She didn’t have one. This was it. Jieun would die… this time for real.

Author Bio:

Jun has lived in Asia for the better part of the last decade. During his years in Korea, he made a point of learning about and getting as close to the Korean entertainment industry as possible while writing his first novel “The Beautiful Dead.” He enjoys telling stories about monstrous humans and humanized monsters.

He has a MFA from the University of California: Riverside, graduated with a BA in English Cum Laude from the University of Washington Seattle, and attended Yonsei University in Seoul, South Korea as an exchange student.

Visit Jun on Facebook at:  http://www.facebook.com/JunPrinceAuthor/

 

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#Bookblitz…Murder Feels Awful…#BookBoost #Mystery #NA #Giveaway #OnTour @XpressoTours

Murder Feels Awful
Bill Alive
(Empath Detective, #1)
Publication date: October 10, 2017
Genres: Mystery, New Adult

He can feel people’s emotions. And murderers feel awful.

Mark Falcon can “vibe” other people’s emotions … and they’re usually super painful. So he hides out in rural Virginia, making websites for clients he never has to meet. It’s a not-terrible life, sort of … until he vibes the final panic of a woman’s murder.

The last thing hermit Mark wants to do is go out and investigate, vibing which suspect is seething with secret hate. Even with me along, his trusty new sidekick/housemate. (I’m so cheerful that I double as an emotional air freshener.)

But Mark has no choice. He has to act, because our local cop detective is convinced that there’s no killer and the woman killed herself. Unfortunately, our cop’s also got the overall presence of a Viking goddess, and the last thing she wants is some delusional “psychic” website guy playing amateur sleuth. (Not to mention hitting on her.)

With the cops threatening jail, small-town secrets threatening Mark’s sanity, and a crazy-gorgeous doctor suspect threatening my heart, time’s running out for Mark and I to catch the killer…

Before the killer catches us.

Murder Feels Awful is the very first Empath Detective novel, a new cozy mystery series that totally really happened, but is officially fiction. If you like Janet Evanovich, M. C. Beaton, Deb Baker, and long lists of famous author names, you’ll love this new series that has it all — amateur detectives you’ll love, zany small-town characters, sparkling wit, and a cold-blooded killer you’ll never even suspect.

Buy this hilarious cozy mystery today! Right now, even! Seriously, at this limited-time launch price of 99 cents, it’ll cost you more to lose time thinking about it than to click RIGHT NOW and jump in! Plus, there’s a whole extra mystery book waiting for you inside … for free…

Goodreads / Amazon

So I’m just going to start typing, because I can’t decide where to start. The dead woman flying the glider? Or when Mark first read my mind? Or maybe that crazy creeptastic first funeral?

This writing thing is hard.

But this story needs to be told. For the victims. For justice.

Plus, we both missed a lot of work time with this murder stuff. It’s not like our finances are dire, officially, but Mark said I could try this ebook thing if we used the money on the mortgage first.

Not that the mortgage is the worst of our problems.

Thing is, people really did die. Somehow, in made-up mysteries, that doesn’t seem to hit the characters much. Trust me, it’s a big deal.

In fact, spoiler alert, this all does get kind of dark. Like, not even just murder. Some things are worse than murder.

But … on the positive side … working with an empath is freaking amazing.

And you know what, that’s exactly where to start this. On that Saturday hike with Ceci, just before my mind exploded.

Not literally. That would be gross. Although that did kind of technically happen later … ugh … anyway…

It was one of those rare Virginia mornings in late August that are magically coolish instead of the usual broil. The point of our hike was to bask in the splendor of our gorgeous Shenandoah Valley, with the gentle, ancient hills rolling around beneath us in green late summer glory.

But Ceci had picked some new trail that turned out to have no views at all, just a scrabbly single-file path through skinny oaks and poison ivy. In the deepest shade, beside huge boulders, the air was cold and damp and tombish. Our voices echoed a little too loud, like kids squabbling in a graveyard.

“Not going to happen, Pete,” Ceci said, in her southern Virginia drawl that higher education and a nursing career have only partly tamed. She flicked me back a firm glance over her buff shoulder. “You are not moving in.”

This hurt.

My current lease was up in a couple days, and I needed new digs fast.

Dad was serious this time — “Son, it’s been a year since graduation, time to pay your own way, blah blah blah…” But how was I supposed to make the rent in the stupid four-room palace Mom had settled me in? And why was Ceci being like this? With our history…

“Don’t you want help with your mortgage?” I gasped. The gasp was only partly emotional — I had to sprint to keep up as Ceci jumped easily from rock to rock up yet another steep incline. My calves and thighs were starting to ache.

No, I’m not out of shape. In fact, I’m lean and wiry, sometimes misinterpreted as “skinny”. But these days, Ceci treats every minor excursion like some kind of Tough Mudder Triathlon.

By the way, “Ceci” sounds like ”sessy”, and it’s short for “Cecily”. Which has always struck me as super fancy and feminine for a woman who’s built like a linebacker (if the linebacker were five foot six and had a cute lopsided smile).

“Besides,” I pursued, “you’ve already got other housemates.”

She groaned, that special Ceci I-love-you-but-sometimes-I-wonder-how-you-even-know-how-to-talk groan. “My housemates are all women.”

“And?” I said, confused. It took me a second to process what she meant. “Wait, you mean, because I’m a dude? Really? Is this some Baptist thing?”

“I’m not Baptist!”

I flinched with remorse. I’m pretty good with details, but for some reason I can never remember the precise flavor of her denomination. Not Baptist, apparently.

“Sorry,” I said. “But we’re friends, Ceci. We have this magical complete lack of sexual attraction! We always have.”

Ceci stepped wrong on a pebble and lurched sideways. But she righted herself instantly. “It’s not that,” she said.

I don’t know why it wasn’t. She’s one of my best friends. We met our first week of college, back when she was a chubby freshman fifteener instead of this transmogrified Miss Muscle. Since then, we’ve been talking pretty much nonstop. We were probably brother and sister in another life. I’m serious. (I used to not believe in past lives, but in the last couple years I’ve really gotten a lot more spiritual.)

“I mean, sure, Hermosa is moderately hot,” I granted. “But I’m not going to try anything with a housemate!”

“Pete—”

“And she’s totally into that cop dude. Ramiro Romero. That guy has enough self-confidence to launch a major world religion.”

“Pete—”

Side note: Ceci knows a lot of cops and cop affiliates, because her older sister Gwen happens to be one of the Force’s finest. Sergeant Gwen Jensen, head of our local Investigations Division. (It’s a small town, so the division only has like three cops, but still.)

Gwen is also basically a Viking goddess, in both her Attractiveness Quotient and her overall temperament and approach to life. I’m not going to say she’s intimidating, because she might actually read this.

“Trust me,” I said. “Cop girlfriends are officially off limits.”

“PETE!” she exasperated. “You are not moving in!”

I opened my mouth to protest, but just then, there came a dude.

Trail etiquette is sketchy, but I always feel you should make at least fleeting eye contact as you try to avoid shoving each other into the poison ivy.

It’s like when you’re driving on back road gravel and there’s some three-ton pickup barreling your way. You both have to give this little half-wave of acknowledgment, even if you don’t actually lift your hand off the wheel and even though there is no way you actually know each other or will ever see each other again, ever. It’s just the code.

This guy did not make eye contact.

I tried three times.

On my first two quick glances, he was apparently way more interested in either watching his step or observing the fascinating local flora.

The third time, he was staring up, craning back his head to see the sky.

This seemed so obviously avoidant that I didn’t think to look up too. Besides, he was more interesting.

Even with his head back, his eyes burned a brilliant blue. They were luminous, the kind of eyes that shine so bright you might fall in. Almost unsettling.

He was also rocking a red-blond mustache, solo with no beard. That was unsettling. Because it actually kind of looked okay. I can’t explain it.

Maybe he was good-looking enough to burn some points on eccentric facial hair? He had a powerful, athletic kind of face. But who knows? I have no clue what kind of look girls actually go for.

I pegged him at mid-thirties, although it was hard to be sure because his reddish-blondish-grayish hair was thinning big time. A large expanse of scalp openly gleamed, and the hair he had left was all fringy and shaggy in the breeze, like the last few months had seen other priorities besides hair care. He wore a ratty T-shirt and thrift store jeans, but he did wear them well.

He tramped around us in awkward silence. Ceci and I put the courteous kibosh on our conversation to make space for obligatory pleasantries, but somehow even Ceci couldn’t muster a “good morning”. And this is a woman who can dump bedpans for sixteen hours straight while sporting the aforementioned cute smile. Somehow, this guy exuded silence like a force field.

Without a word, we went our separate ways.

Then, behind us, he gasped.

Hard. Like he’d been hit in the stomach by a freight train.

Ceci and I shared a glance of mutual what-the-hellitude, then whipped around to see.

The dude was slumped against an old oak, shuddering like he was freezing and fighting to breathe. He looked shocked, even horrified.

Ceci sprang into Nurse Mode, peppering him with medical questions as she leaped down toward him.

But he winced and rasped, “She’s dying.”

I went cold all over. I felt like I’d walked into a car crash. “Who’s dying?” I called, as I stumbled after Ceci.

Still wincing, he nodded … up. Toward the sky.

GIVEAWAY!

Mark Falcon, the Empath Detective, may be able to sense people’s emotions, but the rest of us need a little help. If you win this giveaway, you’ll not only get paperback editions of all Mark’s detective adventures so far (including his prequel novella, ORIGIN STORY, which you can’t even BUY in print, because it’s only a gift ebook for my email list friends) … you’ll also get the technology to BE an empath yourself! I refer, of course, to … MOOD RINGS!

According to the happy Amazon reviews, this mood ring actually DOES CHANGE COLOR! (And does NOT turn your finger green! ) These are nice. Plus, you’ll get TWO rings … the possibilities are endless … you and your significant other could start to feel a whole new connection … or, alternatively, you could “gift” a ring to a particularly inscrutable colleague … or crush …

The rings will be available in size 7, 8, or 9 — just let me know which size you want for each of your two rings. Man, I wish I could enter this contest myself…


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#CoverReveal…Murder Feels Bad…#BookBoost #Mystery #NA #OnTour @XpressoTours

Murder Feels Bad
Bill Alive
(Empath Detective, #2)
Publication date: October 24, 2017
Genres: Mystery, New Adult

He can feel people’s emotions. And murderers feel super bad.

Mark Falcon, an aspiring detective and (for now) reluctant web developer, has a secret. He can “vibe” other people’s emotions. And when a wedding gets crashed by a seeming suicide, Mark vibes that there’s one aloof groomsman who wasn’t surprised at the death. Problem is, this guy’s also the only current lead for Mark’s website business. And both Mark and I (his trusty sidekick/housemate) are dead broke.

Then, we get our first-ever real detective client … and she’s afraid the wedding killer wants to kill her next.

Exciting, right? Except her reason sounds … delusional. But Mark does vibe that she’s in real danger. Also, she’s super hot. And possibly into me…

Meanwhile, the cops tell us to back off the whole thing, or else. Even when more people in our small Virginia town start dying.

With the cops threatening jail (again), quirky locals turning lethal, and a spiritual crisis on my part which has really bad timing, Mark and I are racing to catch a killer who seems ready to murder anyone…

Including us.

Murder Feels Bad is the second novel in the Empath Detective mystery series, a new cozy mystery series that totally really happened, but is officially fiction. If you like Janet Evanovich, M. C. Beaton, Deb Baker, and long lists of famous author names, you’ll love this new series that has it all — amateur detectives you’ll love, zany small-town characters, sparkling wit, and a cold-blooded killer you’ll never even suspect.

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#Cover #Reveal…Murder Feels Awful…#BookBoost #Mystery #NA #OnTour @XpressoTours

Murder Feels Awful
Bill Alive
(Empath Detective, #1)
Publication date: October 10, 2017
Genres: Mystery, New Adult

He can feel people’s emotions. And murderers feel awful.

Mark Falcon can “vibe” other people’s emotions … and they’re usually super painful. So he hides out in rural Virginia, making websites for clients he never has to meet. It’s a not-terrible life, sort of … until he vibes the final panic of a woman’s murder.

The last thing hermit Mark wants to do is go out and investigate, vibing which suspect is seething with secret hate. Even with me along, his trusty new sidekick/housemate. (I’m so cheerful that I double as an emotional air freshener.)

But Mark has no choice. He has to act, because our local cop detective is convinced that there’s no killer and the woman killed herself. Unfortunately, our cop’s also got the overall presence of a Viking goddess, and the last thing she wants is some delusional “psychic” website guy playing amateur sleuth. (Not to mention hitting on her.)

With the cops threatening jail, small-town secrets threatening Mark’s sanity, and a crazy-gorgeous doctor suspect threatening my heart, time’s running out for Mark and I to catch the killer…

Before the killer catches us.

Murder Feels Awful is the very first Empath Detective novel, a new cozy mystery series that totally really happened, but is officially fiction. If you like Janet Evanovich, M. C. Beaton, Deb Baker, and long lists of famous author names, you’ll love this new series that has it all — amateur detectives you’ll love, zany small-town characters, sparkling wit, and a cold-blooded killer you’ll never even suspect.

Add to Goodreads

Pre-Order Link:  http://billalive.com/murder-feels-awful

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#Bookblitz…Train to the Edge of the Moon…#BookBoost #Contemporary #NA #Giveaway @Asper_Blurry @XpressoTours

Train to the Edge of the Moon
Asper Blurry
Publication date: October 28, 2016
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

Punk is no ordinary millennial who takes the life as it is. She has a nasty habit of getting in troubles, she shows the middle finger to prejudice and stupidity, she fights against her broken identity and darkness of her soul. She goes against the stream with her heavy, tight shoes, but she still tries to be a better person. Punk’s adventurous journey to become someone who matters starts in a Place Without a Name, continues in Italy and London. Her train is full of sad reflections, laughs, modern tales about our young lives, relationships and occasional heartbreaks.

“Train to the Edge of the Moon” is about all shades of the young people reality – struggles with career, romances, feeling lost in the corporate machinery, feeling misunderstood and rejected by society. It’s funny, it makes you laugh and in the next moment it gets sad and dark and you want to crawl in the corner and cry a little. It also raises controversial issues such as addictions, depression, and abuse. Those who have been beaten down, trampled over and nearly robbed of everything that makes them who they are, those who refuse to adapt and be another brick in the wall in the modern mayhem will find here hope and strength to fight for their happiness and peace of soul.

Imagine “Girl, interrupted” partying up with the older “Catcher in the Rye” and immerse your curiosity in Punk’s wild adventures.

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Gloomy room immersed in a scent of modern cowards Filled with shapeless creatures sitting in silence because they have nothing to say Fake plastic faces with a grimace of disappointment painted on them.  Are we stuck on hold expecting our turn in a waiting room of so-called lost generation?

London 2015

Weak raindrops were pouring down her leather jacket. It was raining every day lately, and she missed the warmth of Italian sun. Yet Punk couldn’t leave London just like that. It wasn’t just some place for her. She considered London to be a he. A breathing creature with his virtues, weaknesses and vices. His violent dynamism was intoxicating. It would bring her joyful moments of light mixed with deep secrets of a black soul. At first, his huge size and activity caused her dizziness and it took her a while to adjust.

Punk was waiting for them in front of the Oxford Circus tube. Her long, brown hair was tangled by the strong wind. These days it wouldn’t allow her to breathe consciously. A frozen glimmer of the sun appeared on the gray sky, buried behind the dark clouds. But no one bothered to spot it happening above the vivid city life. Punk was like a single shadow that ran within the turmoil of passing strangers on Oxford Street. Quick and invisible like a current of the wild river.

Sometimes the wave of London’s beauty would throw her into unknown dangerous waters, sinking her with anxiety and astonishment. The city is very demanding. He doesn’t want you. He wants all of you; pushing you inside his unique core of riot. And if you’re not strong or confident enough he will spit you out like a piece of used shred. He will devour all your vigor, leaving you with naked ass hid in the bushes.

Punk resembled London in many ways. But she couldn’t stay alive like he did. She could feel life only through glass. It made her hungry and eager to try and live it all. Mostly in homelessness and detachment.

Yet when she saw her two lovers emerging from the stream of dim sunlight a delicate glow covered her pale cheeks. It looked like a smile. She was less scared now after all they’d been through, but she still couldn’t get used to feeling this way.

Someone said she was beautiful and untouchable. So where did all this ugliness come from? Was it her illusion? Was it their notion? Was it even real?

 

Author Bio:

Asper Blurry is a writer, poet, thinker, seeker, traveler and much more. She often finds herself in places of different dimensions and cruel whispers, far from the dreamland. But that’s the price she pays for her creations and she keeps writing because of this artistic force inside her heart and mind.

Her voice is genuine, blunt and raw, sometimes poetic and mysterious. She writes freely about our ordinary life and the reality of modern, young people. She’s not afraid of addressing controversial issues such as addictions, depression and intolerance. She’s convinced that if her writing touches your soul or makes you feel something, all those nights spent in the darkness on the other side will be worth it.

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#Cover #Reveal…Princesses of the Night…#BookBoost #NA #PNR @XpressoTours @TichBrewster

Princesses of the Night
Teresa Fuentez & Tich Brewster
(Royal Blood, #1)
Publication date: September 22, 2017
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal

Tanya is a hardworking college student but her whole world is turned upside down when she meets a mysterious man on Halloween. All that she thought was fiction is now her reality. A night life filled with fangs and blood—and an evil vampire that wants her dead.

She and her friends are the chosen ones, destined long ago, to save this world from destruction. That’s not easy when your enemy is your sire’s son.

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Author Bio:

Tich:

Tich is an Oklahoma resident and the mother of five. Her passion for reading started at an early age when her Aunt Vicky gave her the novel Heidi for Christmas. She didn’t start writing until middle school, after being inspired by her best friend’s short stories. “Genny’s stories weren’t just great but they inspired me to put my pen and paper to good use.”

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

Teresa:

Born and raised in Oklahoma. I have a passion for writing, reading, basically anything book related.

I completed my first novel in 2010, Princesses of the Night, which happens to be the first in a series titled Royal Blood.

My novels fall under the genre Paranormal/Fantasy/NA

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