Archangel's Desire

Monday, August 3, 2015

Blog Barrage – Her Sinful Angel by Felicity Heaton @felicityheaton

Her Sinful Angel Blog Barrage

Her Sinful Angel, book eight in New York Times best-seller Felicity Heaton’s hot paranormal romance series, Her Angel, is now available in ebook and paperback. To celebrate the release, she’s holding a FANTASTIC GIVEAWAY at her website.

Find out how to enter the Her Sinful Angel international giveaway (ends August 9th) and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website, where you can also download a 5 chapter sample of the novel:

Here’s more about Her Sinful Angel, including an excerpt from this paranormal romance novel.

Author's Website | Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon DE | Amazon CA | Amazon AU | iBooks US | iBooks UK | iBooks AU | iBooks CA | iBooks NZ | ARE | Google Play | GoodReads

Her Sinful Angel

Cast out of Heaven and now the king of Hell, Lucifer is a powerful fallen angel warrior with a heart as cold as ice and soul as black as the bottomless pit. For millennia, he has ruled his realm with an iron fist as he plots the demise of his ancient enemies. When one of those enemies dumps an unconscious mortal female in the courtyard of his fortress and leaves her there, Lucifer finds himself entranced by the beguiling beauty and tempted beyond all reason. But is the enchanting Nina an innocent pawn in the eternal game or part of a plot against him?

Her Sinful Angel is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback. Find the links to your preferred retailer at:


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Amazon AU:

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Her Sinful Angel – Excerpt

The door in the right corner of the far end of the room opened and she shot into a sitting position, her heart leaping into her throat as her gaze darted towards it.

The man stood there, dressed as impeccably as before in a fine black suit and polished leather shoes, with his dark hair swept back from his face. All that black made him look as pale as a ghost, his skin white and flawless. Only his amber eyes added a touch of colour that added life to him.


That fiery gaze burned into her as his eyes came to settle on her, narrowing slightly so his long black lashes darkened his irises to burnished gold.

“You are awake,” he said, his voice as smooth and deep as an ocean, lulling her as gently as waves.

With practiced precision, he carried a silver tray into the room and set it down on the black coffee table near the red couch.


Her stomach grumbled at the sight of it. Fruits, something that looked like a sponge cake, and chocolate. Her belly growled louder, her mouth watering as she thought about breaking off a piece of chocolate and popping it into her mouth. Beside the food on the tray stood an elegant silver teapot and a single fine china cup on a saucer, with a tiny pot of milk and a sugar bowl.

Nina stared at the offering, wondering if she would look rude if she ran across the room to stuff her face with the food.

The man arched an eyebrow at her and then at the tray. “I can ask for coffee if you prefer it.”

She quickly shook her head. “Tea is fine. Perfect. I love tea.”

And she was rambling. She didn’t need to catch the amused look on his handsome face to know that.

She edged off the bed and walked as casually as she could towards the couch. He shifted aside when she neared him and she almost paused to look at him, part of her curious about why he always moved away from her whenever she approached him. Was he merely trying to make her feel more comfortable?

Or was there another reason he wanted to keep his distance from her?

The suspicious part of herself locked on to the latter, filling her head with theories about why he might want to avoid being near her. She shoved them away as she sat down on the red velvet couch and snapped off a square of dark chocolate. Her stomach rumbled as she brought it to her lips and she had to fight to keep her eyes open as she placed the piece on her tongue and chewed. Heaven.

Nina swallowed the chocolate, sank back into the couch and sighed.

The man’s gaze on her intensified and she lazily lifted her eyes to meet his. He was closer now, standing at one end of the coffee table and staring down at her, his head cocked to one side.

She was about to ask whether he had never seen a woman blissing out on chocolate when he spoke.

“Tea?” He was crouching before she could respond and she couldn’t help noticing how his black trousers pulled tight across his toned thighs and higher.

Nina dragged her gaze away from the bulge and fixed it on his hands, watching as he nimbly lifted the silver teapot in his left hand and pressed the fingers of his right to the lid as he tilted it, pouring a tall stream of golden liquid into the waiting white cup. Steam swirled from the hot liquid as it rose towards the brim. With an equal measure of care and perfection, he slowly righted the teapot and set it back down on the tray.

Golden eyes slid across to meet hers. “Milk?”

Nina nodded and he picked up the small china pot and began to pour, his gaze constantly on hers. She held her hand out when the tea was golden, not too pale nor too dark for her taste. When he reached for the sugar, she shook her head.

“Sweet enough as you are?” he said with a wide smile that made her heart thump ridiculously against her chest.

She opened her mouth to bat the comment away, but he rose to his feet, coming to tower over her. Something about him standing over her like that, the warmth draining from his eyes as his smile faded, set her on edge. She wrapped one arm around her waist and reached for her cup of tea with the other.

“I make you nervous.” He backed off a step and then another, and she wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice that lie.

He did make her nervous.

He made her nervous when he was close to her, when he was kind to her, when he asked her things about what had happened to her.

When he looked at her as she knew he was looking at her now when her gaze and focus was on picking up the tea he had poured for her.

She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, knew if she lifted hers to meet his that there would be a touch of hunger in his eyes, desire that she had spotted in them before and that left her feeling breathless. The room closed in on her and she struggled to breathe as she reached for the cup. Her fingers shook against the delicate handle and she closed her eyes to shut out the room and everything in it, hoping that it would help her steady her nerves.

It didn’t.

She could still feel his eyes on her.

She pulled down another steadying breath and focused harder, pushing aside the fierce sensation of his eyes on her as she opened her own and settled them on the cup. She gripped the handle and lifted it away from the saucer, bringing it to her as she leaned back. Her hand remained steady this time and she managed a few sips of the hot tea. The comforting taste of it settled her nerves even further.

It might have helped that he stopped looking at her in that instant and moved off towards the fireplace.

Nina studied him as she sipped her tea, taking in the elegant line of his back and how his shoulders tapered but were broad. His black hair was shorn around the sides and back of his head, but left longer on top, groomed back away from his face. She grew bolder the longer he remained looking away from her. Her eyes drifted down the straight slope of his nose, took in the high contours of his cheekbones, and even the tempting soft curves of his lips. Ridiculously handsome.

She could almost believe he had been made to tempt women into sinning.

He exuded wickedness and sensuality, and she felt the full force of it as he turned his head towards her, his golden eyes locking with hers before she could glance away and holding her immobile.

“Is the tea to your liking?”

He may as well have asked whether she wanted to climb him like a tree and kiss the living daylights out of him, because her heart did a stupid fluttering thing in her chest and her belly heated in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Desire flared hot inside her, burning through her veins, and for a moment she wondered whether he had drugged the tea.

It would have been the perfect excuse, if not for the fact she had reacted to him in exactly the same way when she had awoken to him yesterday.

Nina blamed whatever drug the shadowy man had used on her. It obviously hadn’t worn off as much as she had thought.

“What’s your name?” She blurted the question and his left eyebrow arched, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “If I have to stay here, I at least want to know where I am and who you are.”

“Lucifer,” he said it with such a deadpan expression that she didn’t have the heart to ask whether he was joking and had just pulled a name out of his head that suited the dreary house around her.

“You must have loved your parents for that one.”

His expression darkened. “I do not have parents.”

That explained a lot, but also left her with a heck of a lot more questions. Had her previous assumption been correct and he had been raised in this house?

God help him if he had. The poor bastard. It was little wonder he was so pale and looked so cold and emotionless most of the time.

Except when he was looking at her.

Sure, he had looked at her with cold, cruel eyes from time to time, but there were those times when they held banked heat, desire that had shocked her the first time she had noticed it.

“Nina.” She offered her free hand but he only looked at it, keeping his station near the fireplace opposite her, with the table neatly positioned between them.

Like a barrier.

Nina lowered her hand to her lap and his eyes followed it, his irises darkening once more as his pupils dilated.

There it was again. That heat that stirred the same in her, breaking through the hard emotionless cold that normally filled the space in her chest. Was it the same for him?

Or was she being ridiculous?

The heat inside her grew as he lifted his eyes, slowly tracking the length of her arm upwards and over her shoulder, and the hunger in them grew with each inch higher he roamed. He sucked her awareness to him, pulling it away from the room until she was conscious of only him and how he was looking at her.

Of the way his golden eyes seemed to brighten as they lingered on her face and then fell to her lips.

Her breath came quicker, heart racing as she fought the effects of his eyes on her and tried to shake them off.

It was impossible.

She felt as if she had fallen under some sort of spell and he was the one casting it on her by merely looking at her as if she was beautiful and he couldn’t go another second without crossing the room and touching her.

A flash of him doing just that filled her mind, a stolen moment in which his hand would catch her cheek and flutter downwards to her jaw to tease her head back so his lips could taste hers and steal her breath from her.

Every inch of her trembled in anticipation, aching for that even when it scared her a little.

She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her the way he was staring at her right now.


She could.

And it was enough to throw a bucket of icy water on her libido and kill it.

Nina averted her gaze.

The spell shattered.

She felt it break, felt his eyes leave her as he shifted back a step, one that lacked confidence and felt uncertain to her. He lingered a moment, nothing more than a heartbeat, and then the sound of his shoes clicking on the cold stone floor broke the silence. The door slammed and she flinched, spilling her tea on the floor by her bare feet.

Nina sat there in silence, her eyes closed and her heart racing.

What the hell was she doing?

She placed the cup down on the tray and wrapped her arms around herself as she stared at the closed door.

Whatever had been happening, she wasn’t alone in her reaction to it.

It had rattled Lucifer too.

And Nina had the feeling that was a rare thing.

Her Sinful Angel is available from Amazon Kindle, Kobo Books, Barnes and Noble Nook, Apple iBooks stores and other retailers. Also available in paperback.

Find all the links, a fantastic 5 chapter downloadable sample of the book, and also how to enter the giveaway and be in with a shot of winning a $75, $50 or $25 gift certificate at her website:

Books in the Her Angel paranormal romance series:

Book 1: Her Dark Angel – FREE in ebook at selected retailers

Book 2: Her Fallen Angel

Book 3: Her Warrior Angel

Book 4: Her Guardian Angel

Book 5: Her Demonic Angel

Book 6: Her Wicked Angel

Book 7: Her Avenging Angel

Book 8: Her Sinful Angel

Her Dark Angel Her Fallen Angel Her Warrior Angel Her Guardian Angel
Her Demonic Angel Her Wicked Angel Her Avenging Angel Her Sinful Angel

Felicity heaton

Author Bio

Felicity Heaton is a New York Times and USA Today international best-selling author writing passionate paranormal romance books. In her books, she creates detailed worlds, twisting plots, mind-blowing action, intense emotion and heart-stopping romances with leading men that vary from dark deadly vampires to sexy shape-shifters and wicked werewolves, to sinful angels and hot demons! If you're a fan of paranormal romance authors Lara Adrian, J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Gena Showalter and Christine Feehan then you will enjoy her books too.

If you love your angels a little dark and wicked, the best-selling Her Angel series is for you. If you like strong, powerful, and dark vampires then try the Vampires Realm series or any of her stand-alone vampire romance books. If you’re looking for vampire romances that are sinful, passionate and erotic then try the best-selling Vampire Erotic Theatre series. Or if you prefer huge detailed worlds filled with hot-blooded alpha males in every species, from elves to demons to dragons to shifters and angels, then take a look at the new Her Angel series.

If you want to know more about Felicity, or want to get in touch, you can find her at the following places: | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | GoodReads | Amazon | Tsu

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Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Paradise Rot by Larry Weiner @LarryNWeiner

Paradise Rot Banner 851 x 315

Book Blast


clip_image002Paradise Rot

The Island Trilogy

Book One

Larry Weiner

Genre: Satire/Dark Comedy

Publisher: Booktrope

Date of Publication: May 30, 2015

ISBN: 978-1-5137-0031-1


Number of pages: 211

Cover Artist: Larry Weiner

Book Description:

Kyle Brightman—late of the advertising industry and soon-to-be-late of the 5th floor psych ward—has a job offer he can’t refuse. A new resort in the Caribbean is looking for an art director.

Kyle soon finds himself on the Isle of St. Agrippina working alongside a beautiful copywriter with an icy handshake. Questions arise: Why does the resort management team sport spray-on tans in the Bahamas? How can the resort offer such cheap vacation packages? What does one do with vats of Astroglide?

To get the answers, Kyle must first navigate a series of wildly unpredictable events with a cast of even more wildly unpredictable characters, including a seductress jungle assassin, her partially paralyzed talking Chihuahua, an Ivy League Rastafarian seaplane captain, Kyle’s ex-psych ward roommate, a former Haliburton mercenary, and a French tavern owner with a fondness for goats, all set to the greatest hits of the 70’s. Pablo Cruise never felt so right.

Book Trailer:

Amazon BN


“THERE’S A REASON WE PUT PATIENTS IN RESTRAINTS THIS WAY,” Hap the orderly explained. “See before, when it became necessary to administer a four-point restraint on someone, we’d just do the standard two feet to each side of the gurney and two wrists by the waist. Now we have you done up with the POS 2206 restraint which you’d have to pretty much be motherfuckin’ Houdini to get out of, see what I’m sayin’? We got one arm up and one down so you don’t pop your shoulder out of your socket. Does that matter to the average whack job that comes through here all spun out screaming about the end times or how the government implanted tiny computers in their heads? Nuh-uh. They just keep wigglin’ around as if their super human powers are gonna set them free. Forget it, son. Your body belongs to the St. Eligius psych ward, fifth floor, Seattle, Washington, in these United States of America.”

It was true.

Kyle Brightman lay restrained on the gurney looking something like a flamenco dancer striking a pose horizontally. Unlike flamenco dancers and their elaborate sequined outfits, Kyle was in jeans and a faded Clash T-shirt covered in eggs, tapenade, and mace. Also unlike flamenco dancers, Kyle had been tased in a supermarket. But then it had been a weird week in an off kilter year, so in retrospect it seemed fitting to be held down to a gurney in a hospital corridor getting a lesson in the history and technique of human body restraint from Hap, the large African American orderly schooled in human confinement arts.

Kyle fully submitted to the restraints, finding them rather soothing— Temple Grandin was on to something, he thought. He also thought about the starting place on the long road of his downward spiral: from being fired from his advertising gig as an art director, to mowing the grass for a local golf course, and finally to freaking out on a couple of elderly women blocking the aisle in a supermarket because they wouldn’t move their carts a few inches over when he’d asked.

All in three months’ time.

In truth, the brain lock up had been a long time coming. A bitter divorce that had cost him his waterfront condo and his cat, Lester. The passed over promotion at work to a younger junior art director. The diagnosis of Bipolar II. The drinking. The petty shoplifting at the local Rite Aid. It was a perfect storm of anxiety and neurosis crashing down upon an already paranoid and erratic man with authority issues and a tendency toward drama.

But the idea of his mental state as a tornado gathering energy as it swept across his life was nothing new to Kyle or those around him. His moods were a dangerous balancing act of wit, anger, and a general cluelessness that on the best of days came across as mercurial.

He knew this about himself, and though countless therapists had talked him through his childhood, his mother, his school years, and subsequent launch into adulthood, everybody had yet to find a cure. As a creative director with similar tendencies had once put it to Kyle, he’d best learn to be an asshole with serious repenting skills if he was to survive at all, let alone in advertising.

In Kyle’s mind, every time he met a woman, took a job, or made a friend, he imagined a stop watch starting, ticking off the days, hours, minutes, seconds until eventually they would learn the truth about him: that his moods were like forecasting the weather. It was a seemingly mundane twist of fate then that Kyle Brightman would completely lose his shit because two aged, upper crust cronies wouldn’t move their shopping carts over enough for him to pass. If only he had known what they had been discussing (the cost increase in septic pumping/ whose Mexican gardener was better) he might have picked a more symbolic moment to melt down. But then, he had realized as he began cursing at the top of his lungs that he really wasn’t in the driver’s seat. And when he began to throw eggs at them, followed by a jar containing tapenade while knocking over a display rack of various energy bars, it became clear that he was now entering new territory.

Territory that would require restraints.

“When do I get out of the restraints?” Kyle asked Hap.

“That depends on you,” Hap said. “If you cooperate and let us do our job and you do yours you won’t see restraints again. But if you start to go sideways, we put you in the metal room, hose you down and go to work on you with rubber Billy maces.”


“I’m fuckin’ with you. You’ll be fine. We’re gonna take you to your room. You’ll meet your roommate and we’ll get you on the road to recovery.”

Kyle hadn’t thought about recovery until it was mentioned. It was a rare instance that he lived in the moment. He was aware, strapped to the gurney, that he was extraordinarily tired.

“What if I don’t recover?” Kyle asked.

“You will,” Hap said. “I been doing this a long time and I can tell the ones who are gonna make it and the ones who fall through the cracks. You’re the first one.”

“What do you tell the ones who you know are gonna fall through the cracks?” Kyle asked.

“Same bullshit I told you,” Hap said.

Author Interview

Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?

I honest to god wanted to be a rockstar! I play bass and in my youth there were a lot of garage bands, then later some club gigs, but I found I couldn’t keep up with the drug abuse. The writing bug hit in 7th grade because of an English teacher who turned me on to Kurt Vonnegut – that was it man – I wanted to be a rockstar who wrote the band’s lyrics.

When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?

In college – I filled those blue books up!

How long did it take to get your first book published?

I self published in 2013 then in 2015 I was signed by Booktrope and re-release my first two in a trilogy, Paradise Rot & Once Again, With Blood.

Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?

I stopped working as an advertising art director about 5 years ago when I remarried a woman with a small child. She has a crazy busy job and need me around to hold down the fort – I gladly accepted the job offer.

What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?

PARADISE ROT,:  It's Jimmy Buffett and Carl Hiaasen and Elmore Leonard and Don Draper taking turns whacking Anne Rice with a cricket bat.

Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?

Booktrope Publishing.

How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?

First draft in 3 months – final by 4.5

What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?

More satire however, I’m moving away from the paranormal into the living – at least that’s how it’s going with the 4th novel so far.

What genre would you place your books into?

Dark comedy

What made you decide to write that genre of book?

I was always drawn to satire: Kurt Vonnegut, Hunter S Thompson, Carl Hiaasen. Point out the ills of society – but do it with wit.

Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?

Desmond, the gay zombie barista. He’s a gossip and as it turns good with an AK47.

Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?

It varies. What’s most important is to hit my minimum word count of 1k words per day. I do this at my friendly cafĂ© wearing noise cancelling headphones listening to music that is part of the mood I’m creating. Paradise Rot is set to 70’s pop. I recently bought a standing desk and I love it – it really does make you focus.

Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?

I do. Dammit.

Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?

I try to have a at least a working title. The first two books had titles first. The third came late. The new one is in development.

How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?

Ha! I take a map of the city I grew up in and name characters after street names. I also use a combination of people I know or names that are as ridiculous as I can make them.

Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?

There’s no set order. Sometimes there’s a great name I build a person around or vice versa.

Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?

I start out with a notion, but as I write the character kind of takes over and tells me how it’s gonna be. I start with a generalization and get more specific as I go. Or is it the other way around?

Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?

50/50 ebook versus paperback. Though, if the paper the book is printed on or the cover feels funky – then I re purchase it on ebook because tactile disorderJ

What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?

Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman. Constantly refer to it. It just…nails the universe.

Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?

I never do both. It’s either the book OR the movie.

Your favorite food is?

All food. Except cauliflower.

Your favorite singer/group is?

Rush. Yes. I am that kind of geek.

Your favorite color is?


Your favorite Author is?

Again. Classified. Nice try.



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  About The Author


Larry Weiner is the author of PARADISE ROT (BOOK ONE), ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD (BOOK TWO) and the forthcoming HINDU SEX ALIENS (BOOK THREE) that make up the Island Trilogy. Larry earned a degree in film from CSULA and was an award-winning art director. He lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, two kids and a gaggle of animals. He plays bass and thus has poor hearing.

Visit his site at:

Join his Twitter feed at: @LarryNWeiner

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Series Blast, Giveaway & Top Ten - The Russian Guns Series by @BethanyKris @sparklebooktour


Presented by: Sparkle Book Tours
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The Russian Guns Series
by Bethany-Kris
Audience: Adult 18+, New Adult  - Genre: Contemporary romance with some suspense elements. - Format: E-book and Paperback

The Arrangement  - The Russian Guns # 1
Pages: aprox. 319 pages - ISBN: 978-1-4405-8064-2 - ASIN: B00IPSCO6M - Date Published: March 17th, 2014


Nothing will stop the Bratva mob boss from taking back what's his, and once he has her, he'll do anything to keep her...
Viviana "Vine" Carducci's and Anton Avdonin's marriage was decided more than two decades ago. The deal between leading mafia families has more on the line than anyone knew, even if the Bratva and Cosa Nostra shouldn't mix. When Vine's family is murdered and she's left with nothing more than her grief to survive the mob world alone, she believes the arrangement won't see the light of day.
Anton can't allow the one woman he was supposed to love get away. At the possibility of her death, he steps in to save her with guns blazing, knowing exactly what it might cost him: everything. But it's been nearly a decade since their last meeting, and he can't help but wonder if the woman he took back is the same girl he fell for all those years before.
Protected and loved, Vine is unable to forget their shared moments a lifetime ago, or the future she knows they're owed. When an old flame of Anton's shows up to rip the veil off the carefully constructed secrets he'd been hiding, she learns that nothing about her life is as it seems. But, that's nothing compared to the bomb about to blow. Can Vine see beyond the pain and blood to take what she always wanted? And just how far will the mob prince go to keep her safe?
In a world where violence, deceit, and greed reign, your life is not your own, and sometimes, love has to be arranged.

book links



“A marriage is only going to cause more issues. I’m worthless to the Bratva; you practically said so yourself.”
“No, you’re worth a great deal, especially if you’re married to me.”
But, why?
“You’re hiding something from me,” she realized, hurt that he was lying again, even if it was by omission. Viviana couldn’t decide which stung worse—that he didn’t trust her, or that he thought she didn’t deserve to know whatever it was. “What aren’t you saying?”
Anton looked stricken, fingers drumming a quick beat on his thighs. “I gave them my word. It was supposed to be them explaining this to you if they desired to—all the reasons and things that happened years ago. It’s not my story to tell, and I promised. My word is all I’m worth if you consider the way I live; without it, I have nothing.” Reaching out, he cupped a hand over her knee and ran it along the inside of her jittery leg. With his fingers moving so softly against her inner thigh, he pressed his fingertips close enough to her center to make Viviana throb with need. Murmuring, he said, “Can’t you try to trust me? Viviana, you know me … you do.”
She ignored his plea. “Who, Anton?” His fingers pressed harder at her words, grip tightening when Viviana refused to react to his motions. What she really wanted was more. So much more of his hands on her body, but she didn’t dare speak that out loud. “Was it my father, or Nicoli? Who?”
“I can’t answer that right now.” With that, he stood and held out a hand for her to take. “Come, I’ll get you back in bed for the evening. Let you rest and get the last of that sedative out of your system. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.”
Too exhausted to argue, her palm met his. Anton’s lips touched down to Viviana’s fingers in a flutter of movement. She wouldn’t have noticed the quick kiss had she not felt the heat of his mouth brushing along her sensitive skin. She might as well have been sixteen and falling for him all over again.
Viviana couldn’t figure out if she was willing enough to let him do it. It didn’t help that she wasn’t all too sure if she knew this man anymore. Was he the same one she wanted all those years ago? Had his feelings remained the same nearly a decade later … was that even possible? Could someone want another that much?
What was even more frightening was that with his blue eyes watching, and his hand connected with hers, waiting, Anton still felt like hers.
Just like he always had.
The Life - The Russian Guns # 2
Pages: aprox. 269 - ISBN: 978-0-9937797-0-1  - ASIN: B00MDWT0BI - Date Published: August 2nd, 2014 - Publisher: Bethany-Kris  - Editor: Elle Leigh


The mafia life is a dangerous one revolving around honor, duty, and greed—a troublesome thing like love isn’t meant to play a part, but no one follows the rules.
Surrounded by men waiting for the Russian mob boss to show weakness, Anton Avdonin should have known showering affection so openly on his new bride wasn’t a good idea. Of course, that didn’t stop him. When Anton’s wife begins attracting unwanted attention from an unknown source, he’s determined to find out just who is playing the risky game and put a stop to it by whatever means necessary.
From a Cosa Nostra princess to a Bratva queen, Viviana “Vine” Avdonin was made for the life. Pregnant, safe, and loved, she’s more than happy to move on from the history that haunts her to start out fresh. Then again, someone else has other plans. Old rivals from the past and bad blood from the present have mixed in the worst way, threatening to take away the things Viviana loves the very most. No matter what, she can’t let that happen.
Both Viviana and Anton know there’s only one way this can all end and it’s up to them to do it. But, who is behind the veiled threats and personal attacks, and how far are they willing to go to get what they want? When the truth finally surfaces, the consequences will be devastating and no one could have seen it coming.
In a life where everybody plays for keeps and no one fights fair, one mistake might cost them everything.

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“My God. You know there’s nothing there, right? Her and me, I mean. That’s not … It’s just not there, baby. You don’t have to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous, Anton.” Strangely, he believed her. Viviana shrugged under the weight of his arm resting around her shoulders. “Why should I be … of Tatiana? I have exactly what she doesn’t. Everything she thought should have been hers is mine. I have your life, your son, and your love. Even if she was nothing more than your whore, which she isn’t, she still wouldn’t have any of those things. So no, I’m not jealous of that girl. On the other hand, I do wonder if she is envious of me.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
Viviana sighed. “Exactly. Tatiana has defied her father, you, and God knows how many others just to hurt me once. That was before we were married, before Demyan, and she only managed to sling words. This time might be different. At this dinner, she’s going to see me pregnant, happy, and protected, all because of you. Again, all that she doesn’t have and everything she wanted. So it brings me back to safety, I guess. You made it clear you don’t want her in any way so would she hurt me, or worse your baby, because of her resentment? Is she that crazy over you?”
Anton stayed silent, letting his wife’s words sink in as he considered them. It wasn’t that what she said didn’t make sense, because it did, but he wondered why Viviana had asked for Tatiana’s presence at all.
“You asked for her to be there, Vine. If you were worried about all of this, why ask at all?”
“I also asked for no guns.”
“And I’ll make sure that’s adhered to as best I can,” Anton said, still feeling confused. “You won’t take a step into any establishment unless it is weapon free.”
Viviana felt tense in his arms. “You don’t need a gun to kill someone.”
“She won’t have any chance to be alone with you.”
“I know.”
“Then what?” Anton asked.
“I want this done,” she said so low he strained to hear. “Put an end to it, however you have to. I don’t want to worry about her or her goddamned family after it’s over. I don’t want to think if she can’t hurt me, she’ll go to the next best thing.”
“You’re worried she’ll try to hurt Demyan.”
“Or you. To me, that’s just as bad.”
“You know that’d never—”
“No, I don’t,” Viviana interrupted coolly. “But if I didn’t have them to worry about, it’d be one less thing for me to consider.”
It was only then that her hidden meanings were starting to dawn on Anton. Viviana never asked him for anything in regards to business. She didn’t like to have her hands in his pots, so to speak. This was entirely different, especially if she was asking what he thought she was asking.
“Come on, Vine …”
“I want it done,” she repeated thickly. “Please.”
“On your head, though? You want that on your mind, bloodying up your hands, too?”
“Stop it,” Anton said, practically spitting the words. “Fuck, just don’t say that shit. I’ll handle it.”
“Before or after one of us is dead?”
The Score -  Series: The Russian Guns # 3
Pages: aprox. 265 pages - ISBN: 978-0-9937797-1-8  - ASIN: B00OVPD746 - Date Published: October 27th, 2014  - Publisher: Bethany-Kris - Editor: Elle Leigh


In the mess of love and life, nothing and no one is left untouched.
After everything the Russian mob boss Anton Avdonin has done to keep his family safe from the dangers of the world surrounding them, he never thought it would come down to this. The officials are knocking, the charges are piling, his wife is hurting, and they’re facing a fate he never thought to consider. He didn’t just make one mistake … no, he made many. It’s time to answer for them all.
Viviana “Vine” Avdonin is stuck watching the life she adores crumble around her. Bad decisions have led to terrible consequences in more ways than one. She doesn’t have time to recover from one devastating tragedy that leaves her shattered before the next one is crushing down, too. Saving her husband from a life sentence might be the easiest thing she has to do when her own misdeeds are staring her in the face.
Together, Anton and Viviana have survived more than once, but this path will be by far, the hardest they’ve ever walked. Sometimes they have to walk it alone … because forgiveness isn’t always black and white and love can be blurred by pain. With the blissful ignorance gone and the blinders removed, how much of themselves will they have to sacrifice to come out on top one last time?
When everyone has a score to settle, it’s hard to notice the person causing the most heartache is the one staring back in the mirror.

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Anton flinched, disgust filling him to the brim. This whole situation was horrible, and he felt dirty with ten grimy fingers pointing straight at his guilty chest.
“Well, aside from firing her, there’s not much I can—”
Anton didn’t get to finish his sentence. A loud bang and shouted orders rang out in the downstairs of the club. The tinkling sounds of canisters popping along the empty floor echoed up to their spot. There was no denying what was happening downstairs.
“Fuck,” Ivan muttered.
Instantly, Anton was off his office chair, ignoring the gun he knew was in the desk, and the information of a shipment, never mind the laptop he should have tried to somehow destroy. No, instead, the only thing he could think of was the little boy on the floor with wide blue eyes and terrified, reaching for his father.
“Papa?” Demyan cried.
“Shhh, little man,” Anton whispered.
In his arms, he held his son tighter and turned his back to the door of the office. It seemed like only milliseconds, but his mind was running a million miles a minute. Anton couldn’t begin to understand why the officials would be raiding his club. His guys certainly hadn’t been given any indication and they’d all been pretty quiet.
Demyan’s shaking increased as the shouts down below became louder. “It’s okay, Demyan, it’s okay. Papa’s here.”
The sounds of a dozen or more pairs of boots pounding up the metal staircase ratcheted up Anton’s nerves to a breaking point.
“Anton …” Ivan started to say. “Anton, give me your son!”
The hardest thing Anton ever had to do, next to walking out of his house that morning knowing his wife’s heart was breaking, was hand his trembling, scared, and crying son off to another man. It was safer for Demyan, though.
No doubt, they weren’t there for Ivan.
Anton watched Ivan curl a fighting Demyan into his chest as he got to his knees on the floor and automatically put his hands behind his head. The less threatening he seemed at their entrance, the less likely they were to cause him harm, never mind his son seeing it.
“Demyan, it’s okay,” Anton repeated when the first kick to the door landed with a solid thump. The second and third only followed louder, harder. “Hide his face, Ivan!”
When the door finally broke, it wasn’t a second before Anton found himself face down on the floor, his son’s cries overtaking all other sounds. Cuffs tightened around his wrists to an almost painful point, but Anton refused to show it. A boot landed hard between his shoulder blades, keeping him pinned to the floor even though he wasn’t fighting.
“Anton Daniil Avdonin, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sonny Carducci, Tatiana Belov, Sergei Belov …”
Demyan & Ana: A Russian Guns Novella
The Russian Guns # 4
Pages: aprox. 122 pages - ISBN: 9780993779732 - ASIN: B00TXCSXEG - Date Published: March 2nd, 2015  - Publisher: Bethany-Kris  - Editor: Elle Leigh




Demyan and Ana have lived in privilege and protection as the children of Anton and Viviana Avdonin. With a Russian mob boss for a father and a mafia queen for a mother, they’ve got big shoes to fill. Love and life are messy games to play, especially when you’re new at it.
An attack on one Avdonin will leave the family stunned and hurting. Their retribution is brutal, but the repercussions for their revenge will be even more devastating. Because when blood is spilled in their world, more must fall, too.
No one is safe. They have always been formidable—unstoppable. But they are not bulletproof.
Giving all of your heart to one person means running the risk of losing it when life comes crashing down. A happily ever after is just beyond their grasps.
One will get theirs.
And the other won’t.
A Russian Guns Novella, Prequel to Shattered

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It’s one thing to have a mob boss for a father. It’s an entirely different thing to have Anton Avdonin for a father.
“Are you ever going to marry that girl?” Anton asked, nodding in Gia’s direction.
Gia laughed with Demyan’s mother. About what, he didn’t know. She looked happy and carefree.
“You’re twenty-five. She’s twenty-six. You’re almost done with school, she already is and working. Not to mention you’re living together. Shit, you might as well be married, son. Just get it done with already.”
Demyan cocked a brow over the top of his beer bottle. “Get it done with?”
“Well, what the fuck else do you want me to say? It’s not like you’re making any damn effort to do it on your own.”
Lifting a single shoulder in response, Demyan tipped the bottle up and swallowed a mouthful of the amber colored, bitter liquid.
“You’ve been in love with her forever. I wish you would make it official.”
Demyan rolled his eyes. “It’s not any less official just because we don’t have rings and a signed marriage license. We’re happy like this. She’s really independent. I don’t know if she will ever want to get married.”
“Have you even proposed?” Anton asked pointedly. “How would you know if you don’t?”
“You assume I haven’t.”
“If you asked Ivan for his daughter’s hand like a good man, I would be the first person he called after.”
Goddamn it. Sometimes it sucked to have his father be such close friends with Gia’s father. Between the two of them, nothing flew under their mutual radars. It had been like this since Gia and Demyan were teenagers.
“You don’t understand. I’m not going to ask Ivan for something Gia doesn’t want yet, Papa.”
Anton’s brow crinkled. “Oh.”
“Yeah. I’d marry her in a heartbeat. Like first thing tomorrow morning at the courthouse if she would let me.”
“Why won’t she?”
Demyan didn’t know.
“Is it the Bratva thing again?” Anton asked.
“No, I don’t think so. We don’t talk about that at all.”
“Nope,” Demyan said simply. “It’s easier this way.”
“So, fact is, that could be precisely why, but you don’t know because you won’t ask.”
Demyan hated when his father made sense. “I love her, Papa.”
“I know you do.”
“Exactly. And if being together like we are is what makes her happy, I don’t need more. I won’t push her for more, either. She doesn’t like that I’m Vor, so I don’t make a point of shoving it in her face. It’s only a small piece of us, but not all. I’m going to keep my focus on the better parts.”
“Fair enough,” Anton said, but his smile didn’t ring true. “And when were you planning on telling me, anyway? Or at least, your mother.”
“Tell you what?”
“That Gia’s pregnant.”
shattered covergif
Shattered - The Russian Guns # 5
Pages: Full length novel – 100k  - ISBN: 978-0-9937797-6-3 - Date Published: July 2nd, 2015
“Don’t fall in love with me. I ruin beautiful things.”
Love made him this way, but life makes him stay.
Life doesn’t give a redo. There’s no rewind or pause button to take you back or stop time. Once something happens, it happened. The most tragic of those times in his life, the ones he wouldn’t get back and the moments he could never fix, reminded Demyan Avdonin of a bullet meeting glass.
The impact of the bullet doesn't break the glass into pieces, but instead, leaves behind a single hole surrounded by a spider web of cracks. Fragile cracks that, when handled with the utmost care, would splinter into shards of what used to be.
Demyan thought he had been broken beyond repair once, four long years ago.
He was wrong.
She touched the glass, unknowing of the cracks holding him together. These are the broken pieces of a shattered man and the woman who made him live.
Life made him this way, but love makes him stay.
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Something was happening to him, and it was because of her. He was letting it happen because he liked the way she got under his skin, made him think, and forced him to feel. Even if it wasn’t always fucking pretty.
Demyan wasn’t sure how he felt about that other than the fact he didn’t want to think about it at all. Hooking up was one thing, but acting cozy was completely different and not what he should want.
“Don’t,” he forced out.
Demyan turned on his heel, a hand flying up in the air to stop her from saying another thing. He made a swift beeline for the front door, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch where he tossed it the night before.
At the front door, he tugged on his coat before yanking on his shoes.
“Demyan, please just wait a second,” Claire pleaded. “Please!”
Her cry sliced him straight down to the fucking bone. Like it ached in his heart because he was the one making her hurt. She was just feet away from him. Christ, he could reach out and touch her, soothe her if he wanted, but he couldn’t.
“Don’t do that,” Demyan said sharply, standing straight and trying to force back the rising anxiety and anger.
Claire snapped away from him as if he’d stuck out at her with his hand. “Do what?”
“I don’t understand wh—”
Demyan waved at her. “That right there. This can’t be something. We can’t be something. Don’t do that.”
“Demyan, you’re freaking out over nothing.”
No, he wasn’t.
There were tears in her eyes. They weren’t falling, but they were there. She was hurt by his rejection, and he didn’t know how to handle what was going on inside his head and heart. So, it was pretty goddamn simple for Demyan. He needed to stop whatever this was before it went any further. Straight for the kill, like any good monster would do.
“Don’t fall in love with me. I ruin beautiful things.”
Claire flinched. “Why would you say that?”
“You can’t fall in love with someone like me and you certainly can’t afford to believe there’s something here or that you can make me better again. I am broken—unobtainable and unfixable. I don’t need a fucking martyr in my life. I’ve got enough of those as it is.”
“Just … don’t.”
“Fall in love with you.”
“Exactly,” Demyan muttered.
“Why would you say that?” she repeated.
Wasn’t it obvious?
“Why would you tell me not to fall in love with you and then in the next sentence, call me beautiful?”
Because she was.
Music is often the biggest inspiration to me as a writer. The following songs were the most influential for background and emotion in The Russian Guns series. I hope you enjoy the playlist for the series as much as I enjoyed listening to them as I wrote.

  Top Ten

Top Ten Female Characters in Fiction

These are ten of my favorite female characters in fiction. Truth be told, some may change from time to time as I discover new works or remember old ones I have read. But right now, when I gazed over my bookshelves and wondered “What females’ stories would I share and why?” these female leads stood out to me. Maybe one or two will stand out to you, too.


1) Cathy from Flowers in the Attic by VC Andrews.

While this book had some really taboo topics and the choices made by the MC female lead could be, at times, cringe-worthy, I adored Cathy. I still do today and that was well over a decade ago that I first read her and her brother’s story. I try to re-read her stories (the family series) at least once a year.

2) Mary Boleyn from The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory.

Mary was often overshadowed by her sister, Anne, but in the end, Mary lived her life as she wanted. And fact tells the truth right along with the fictionalized version of this tale—Mary lived, Anne got her head cut off.

3) Francesca Giordano from The Borgia Mistress by Sara Poole.

Oh, my God …. Francesca. Lover to a Borgia son, court poisoner for the man who was to become Pope, ridiculously strong willed and minded in a time when women were considered only good for birthing babies. I loved this woman. I devoured the book in hours because of her.

4) Ana from Letting Ana Go by Anonymous.

Ana could have been my friend, she could have been my mother, she could have been me. Her story, despite the way it ended, and her character, stayed with me because of that.

5) Dora Rare from The Birth House.

Dora is the first of two midwives on this list of mine. She’s from a favorite place of mine, Nova Scotia Canada. She endured through so much—she was amazing. I loved her strength most of all and how she finally settled into happiness with who she was and what she wanted regardless of what others wanted. It’s a good life lesson.

6) Savannah Lynn Curtis from Dear John by Nicholas Sparks.

I actually didn’t think I would put a NS novel on this list, but when I looked through my bookshelves (over 300 books in my physical—not digital—collection), Savannah pulled me in again. She made tough choices. Ones that hurt other people, but she did it because of who she was and who she was, was a good person. She sacrificed what could be her happiness for someone else. Maybe she was rewarded in the very end for it, we never knew.

7) Alice Piper from So Much Pretty by Cara Hoffman.

Good God, if there is any book on this list you pick up and try, PLEASE PICK THIS ONE. PLEASE. Alice Piper is a young teenaged girl—the story is told from many perspectives and it makes you question everything you thought you knew about life and people and “what would you do if this was your child?” Alice did what so many people THINK of doing but never do. This book gave me the chills for weeks and even when I think of Alice today, I still go, “WOW”.

8) Mia from If I Stay by Gayle Forman.

This story was just … poignant as is. Being told from Mia’s perspective added to that. I don’t think it would have worked as well with someone else’s perspective. Mia made this story. There’s more books though I haven’t read them.

9) Anna & Kate from My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult.

Read the book, don’t just watch the movie. I know there should only be one female here, but they intertwined so much by the end, it only made sense for them to be both. Anna is the kind of person people should be, and Kate is … heartbreaking. Both strong but in completely different ways. If I had daughters (I don’t, I have all boys), I would hope they could be as emotionally, and mentally strong as these girls.

10) Hannah Levi from The Midwife of Venice by Roberta Rich.

Hannah is a Jewish Midwife who risks her career and life to save the life of a Christian mother and her baby, despite knowing her actions could have grave consequences. She was an amazing character to read about.

I hope my list gives you some new characters to go and try!





about the author
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three very young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something ... when she can find the time.
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