Archangel's Desire

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Book Blast & Giveaway: Vampire Most Wanted -Argeneau Vampire Series ,Book 20 by @LynsaySands

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clip_image002Vampire Most Wanted
Argeneau Vampire Series
Book 20
Lynsay Sands
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Avon
Date of Publication: 2/18/2014
ISBN: 9780062078179
Number of pages: 384
Avon Romance Amazon BN



Book Description:
Take a road trip with the undead . . . in this latest in the argeneau series by New York Times bestselling author Lynsay Sands
For Basha Argeneau, anything is better than facing her estranged family. Even hiding out in sweltering southern California. But when a sexy immortal in black shows up determined to bring her back to the clan, she'll do anything to keep far, far away from the past she can't outrun.
Marcus Notte isn't here to play games—especially not with someone as crazy as the infamous blonde. Asked by Lucian Argeneau to bring her back for questioning, Marcus is determined to carry out Lucian's request—no matter how the seductive little mind-reading vamp feels about it.
Basha doesn't mind fighting fire with fire, especially with a hot immortal involved. But if he wants to take her away, he'll have to catch her first . . .
 
Excerpt -
Chapter One
Divine saw her latest customer out, surprised to note that there was no one outside her door waiting for a reading. It was the first time that day that there was no line outside her RV. A glance at her watch explained why-- it was dinnertime. That was the only time she ever had a lull in customers. Right now the food stalls would have ridiculously long line as everyone at the fairgrounds converged on them in search of greasy treats to power the rest of the evening’s rides and fun. Which meant she had a few minutes to catch her breath and relax a bit.
She’d barely had the thought when she spotted a couple of women moving purposefully toward her trailer. After a brief hesitation, Divine quickly flipped the “Back in five minutes!” sign, let her screen door slide closed and descended the few steps to the ground. Ignoring the fact that the women were looking alarmed and rushing forward, she slipped around the side of her RV. Most customers would have stopped then, sagged with disappointment and waited, probably impatiently, but waited just the same, so Divine was a little surprised when her arm was grabbed from behind. She was more surprised, however, by the strength in the hand that latched onto her…until she turned and noted that it wasn’t one of the women at all, but a man.
A couple inches taller than her, dark haired and good-looking, he was built like a line backer. He was also looming over her, deliberately invading her space in a threatening manner as he growled, “What the hell did you say to my wife?”
Divine rolled her eyes with exasperation, wondering how she was supposed to know since she didn’t know who his wife was. She was about to say as much, but then realized that there was something familiar about the man and quickly dipped into his thoughts. A heartbeat later she was relaxing.
“Allen Paulson,” she murmured his name, getting an almost childish satisfaction when his eyes widened incredulously.
“How do you--?”
“I told your wife that you were having an affair with your buxom, blonde, twenty year old secretary, Tiffany,” Divine interrupted sharply, silencing him at once. “I told her that this Tiffany was pushing for marriage and that you, not wanting to lose her, but unwilling to give up your wife’s money preferred widowhood to divorce. I told her about your plans to bring about that widowhood on your upcoming vacation. I believe it was either her drowning or suffering a fall while camping in Yosemite National Park?” She tilted her head. “As I recall that trip was scheduled for this week, wasn’t it?”
When his mouth dropped open and his hold on her arm eased, Divine added, “I’m guessing by the fact that you’re here rather than in Yosemite, that she listened to my advice to make an appointment with her lawyer the next morning to change her will as well as remove you as the beneficiary on her life insurance.”
His hand dropped away, falling limply by his side.
“No doubt she also listened to my advice and hired a private detective. I gather she sent him to get photographic proof of your infidelity at that cheap little motel you like to take your secretary to everyday at lunchtime?” She slipped into his thoughts briefly, read the answer in the chaos there, and smiled with satisfaction. Not only had the wife done that, she’d then taken the proof straight to a good divorce lawyer. The woman was now safe and on her way to being single again. After that, though, the woman had told her dear hubby that the fortune teller at the carnival was the one who had given her the heads up and put her on this path and it had been the best twenty bucks she’d ever spent. Which was why Divine now had an irate and soon to be divorced and destitute husband on her hands.
Divine waited, braced for the man’s anger. But instead of the explosive rage she expected, he asked in a small, frightened voice, “How did you know? No one knew. I didn’t tell anyone what I planned. Not even Tiffany.”
“Did you even bother to read the sign when you walked your wife to my trailer that day two weeks ago in Pahrump?” she asked with amusement and then reminded him, “Madame Divine. Let her do a reading and define your future,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but that’s just… It’s a scam,” he protested. “You’re a carnie. You just scam people out of their money for a laugh.”
“Yes, of course ,” Divine agreed coldly, and then tilted her head. “So why aren’t you laughing?”
Allen Paulson flinched as if she’d struck him, and then his awe and dismay gave way to the rage she’d expected earlier. Divine saw it roll over him, knew he was about to blow his top without the need to read him, but slipped into his thoughts anyway. It was like cutting through soft, half melted butter with a ceramic knife. The man was so angry his thoughts were wide open. Divine wasn’t terribly surprised to read that he’d brought a gun with him and planned to use it. She waited until he’d pulled the weapon from inside his jacket and raised it, though, before reacting. In fact, she let him get so far as to put his finger on the trigger before snapping her hand out, latching onto his throat and lifting him off the ground. She then whirled and slammed him against her RV.
When the gun fell from his hand and he moaned in pain, she released him. The man fell like a rag doll. He landed on his ass with his legs splayed, a dazed expression on his face, and Divine immediately dropped to straddle his lap. Gravel ground painfully into her knees, but she ignored that, caught him by the hair at the nape of his neck, pulled his head to the side and sank her fangs into his throat.
A little shiver of pleasure slid through Divine as thick warm blood began to gush from the wound, was collected by her teeth and passed into her body. It gave her an immediate rush as the nanos in her body swarmed, eager to collect this new supply of nourishment. The man had jerked in surprise when her teeth pierced his skin, and he’d raised his hands to try to push her off, but he never actually got around to exerting any pressure. Instead, he froze briefly, his mind overwhelmed as hers automatically began to transmit her own pleasure to him. In the next moment, he was moaning and tugging at her instead, pulling her closer with one hand, clasping her head with the other and murmuring encouragingly, “Oh, yeah, baby. Please.”
He was also arching his body under her, rubbing a sudden hardness against her. Divine usually didn’t cause pain in her victims, but this one deserved it. She also wasn’t terribly eager to let a man who had planned to murder his own wife dry hump her there on the carnival grounds, so she deliberately withdrew the pleasure that she was experiencing and had unintentionally shared. But she also slipped into his mind to control his reaction to prevent him from screaming out in horror and pain as his mind cleared and he became aware of what was happening.
Divine was always careful not to kill her hosts. Why kill the cow that gave the milk? Besides, killing was wrong, no matter how despicable the person was, so while she drank more than she normally would have, she pulled back and freed him at the point when he was weak and woozy, but long before the man could come close to dying.
Smiling coldly at his horrified expression, Divine stood, lifting him as she went. Once they were both upright, she released him, leaving him to lean weakly against the RV rather than have to touch him anymore.
“Listen carefully Allen Paulson,” she said grimly. “You will not hurt your wife, or ever again consider harming or killing anyone for profit or any other reason. If you do, I’ll find out, and then I’ll find you…” She raised her hand to run one finger lightly over the wound on his neck. “And then I will finish this meal, cut your head off and leave your cold dead body somewhere no one will ever find you. Do we understand each other?”
Allen Paulson nodded weakly. The man’s face was as white as his t-shirt, his eyes almost sunken with horror and he was sliding slowly along her RV, obviously eager to escape, but afraid to try and be stopped. Divine scowled. “And if you tell anyone about this, about me,” she emphasized, “I’ll do worse.”
He began shaking his head frantically and whispered, “I won’t. I swear.”
She narrowed her eyes, and then her nose wrinkled as the acrid scent of urine wafted up between them. Glancing down, she saw the wet spot growing on the front of his trousers and stepped back with disgust. “Get out of here before I change my mind and wipe yours.”
Allen Paulson didn’t have a clue what she meant by that-- she could see it in his expression-- but he didn’t stick around to ask. He simply nodded wildly and sidled along the RV for a couple feet before finding the courage to turn his back to her and run.
“You should have wiped his mind.”
Divine stiffened at those words from behind her, and then turned slowly. She peered at the tall fair-haired man who had spoken. He was a greenie, an unskilled laborer and supposedly a local who had been hired to help out at the carnival while they were in town. The name he went by was Marco. Divine knew this secondhand, because while she was normally in on the hiring process, using her “special skills” to help Bob and Madge Hoskins who owned and ran Hoskins Amusements, this time she hadn’t been here. Family issues had kept her away and the hiring had been done by the time she’d caught up to the carnival. Had she been here to help weed out the troublemakers in the hiring process as she usually did, she never would have allowed Bob and Madge to hire the man. One, she couldn’t read him, and that was usually a sign of insanity in a mortal. This leads into the second reason she wouldn’t have hired him; the man, like herself, was an immortal. She’d sensed that about him quite quickly. Divine wasn’t sure how she’d known. She didn’t run into a lot of immortals. In fact, she’d arranged her life so that she wouldn’t. But there had been a frisson of awareness as she’d first passed him on returning to the carnival just before noon that day, as if the nanos in her body recognized and sent signals to those in his. She’d been avoiding him ever since.
But that hadn’t stopped her from finding out all she could about him. Not that there had been much to learn. He went by Marco, last name Smith of all things. The women all thought he was a hunk. The men thought he was practically a God because he was strong and could do the work of four men, and Bob and Madge were hoping he’d not just help out through their stay in this town, but travel with them to the next and the next and so on. For herself, Divine was wary. She had avoided other immortals for a reason and had been doing so for a very long time. She didn’t like having one around. It made her anxious and she disliked feeling anxious.
“Don’t you have something to do?” she asked, moving past the man and toward the back of her RV. The sign she’d turned had said back in five minutes and that time was up. Besides, she’d snacked on Allen Paulson and felt better for it. Break time was over.
“You should have wiped his mind,” Marco repeated, falling into step with her.
“He’ll keep his mouth shut,” Divine muttered, annoyed, mostly because she knew he was right. The truth was she hadn’t wiped Allen Paulson’s mind because it was slimy, and she hadn’t wanted to have to spend any more time inside his mind than necessary. Besides, he deserved to go through life terrified that she might someday revisit him should he set a foot wrong.
“And if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut?” Marco asked as they neared the end of her RV. “What if he goes to the police?”
“If he goes to the police, and if they don’t immediately lock him up as crazy but instead come to speak to me…” She shrugged. “I’ll wipe his mind, the officer’s mind and leave this carnival for another.”
“Is that how you landed at Hoskins’ Carnival?” Marco asked as they rounded the end of the vehicle. “You didn’t wipe someone you should have and had to move on?”
Divine turned on him sharply, an angry retort on her lips, but just as quickly caught back the words that wanted to spill out and merely said with forced calm, “You’re an inquisitive fellow, Marco. It’s not healthy around here. Carnies mind their own business. I suggest you do the same.”
Turning away from him, she smiled at the two women who were waiting in front of her door. Others had joined them. In fact, Divine now had a line up of a half a dozen people and it was growing by the minute, but she reserved her smile for the first two only and said, “Which of you would like to go first? Or shall I take you together?”
“Oh, me first,” one of the women said eagerly. “This was my idea.”
Divine nodded and led the woman inside, leaving Marco and all thought of him out on her stoop.
“Here, Mister.”
Marcus tore his gaze from the door Madame Divine had just ushered her client through and peered down at the small boy tugging at the top of his pant leg and holding out a half eaten ball of cotton candy on a cardboard cone.
“Here,” the boy repeated, holding it a little higher. “I don’t feel good. You can have the rest.”
Marcus arched an eyebrow, but took the cotton candy. He suspected the boy didn’t feel good because he was stuffed full of cotton candy, something drenched in mustard, powdered elephant ears and—he considered the last stain on the boy’s shirt consideringly and then decided it had to be – ice cream. The kid was a walking menu of everything he’d eaten that day. At least, Marcus hoped it was all the kid had eaten that day. Otherwise he’d be wondering if Dante and Tomasso hadn’t fathered the little tyke. They were the only two people he knew, mortal or immortal, who could have eaten like that as a boy.
“Danny! What are you doing? Get over here and leave that man alone.”
Marcus glanced at the woman rushing toward them from the midway and offered a reassuring smile even as he slipped into her thoughts to ease her mind that he wasn’t a child molester and nothing untoward was happening. By the time she reached them, she’d slowed to a fast walk, and was smiling in a relaxed manner.
“I hope he wasn’t bothering you?” she said apologetically as she took the boy’s hand.
“Not at all,” Marcus assured her.
The young mother smiled again and then nodded and turned away with the boy, saying, “Come on, honey. Your daddy is waiting with your sister in the Ferris wheel line. They’ll be worried.”
Marcus watched them go and then turned his gaze back to Madame Divine’s RV. The door was closed now as were the blinds. He couldn’t see the woman anymore, except in his mind’s eye and he was definitely seeing her there. Madame Divine was more than memorable in her gypsy getup. A white peasant blouse, worn off the shoulders, a crimson under skirt, a bright teal scarf skirt, an orange sash tied at the waist with gold chains hanging from it and tinkling merrily, a wide leather belt and a crimson scarf around her head. Gold hoops had dangled from her ears, a gold chain hung around her neck, several gold bracelets dangled from her wrist, and knee high black leather boots with stiletto heels strapped up the front of her legs had finished the outfit.
The woman looked damned sexy in the getup, so sexy in fact that when she’d straddled the would-be wife killer, Marcus had wanted to pull her off the man and onto his own lap. He’d been rather startled by that urge. Marcus hadn’t been interested in women for a while. Okay, for a couple millenia. Still, he hadn’t come across a woman like Madame Divine in quite a while either. The woman was walking sex in her get up, and his body was waking up and responding to it.
Obviously he had a gypsy fetish, Marcus thought wryly. It made as much sense as anything else at the moment. Certainly more sense than his own life presently did. It appeared at the ripe old age of 2548 he was having a midlife crisis of sorts. That was the only explanation for how he found himself doing a favor for Lucian Argeneau.
Marcus smiled wryly at the thought. Lucian Argeneau was not only the head of the powerful Argeneau clan, but also oversaw the Rogue Hunters and led the North American immortal council. Rogue Hunters were the immortal police force, they hunted down rogue immortals to be presented to the immortal council who then passed judgment on them and sentenced them to whatever punishment they saw fit, often death.
As the head of those two organizations, Lucian could arguably be the most powerful immortal in North America. It was hard to imagine him needing anyone’s help. But he did. He was searching for a family member, his niece, Basha Argeneau, who had been thought to be dead for millennia, but who may now be alive after all…and whom he feared had gone rogue.
Which is how Marcus had come to find himself at the carnival, eyeballing the trailer of a woman he couldn’t read and found incredibly sexy. Not that his not being able to read her bothered him. If this was Basha Argeneau, she was even older than he was and younger immortals usually couldn’t read immortals older than themselves. It wasn’t like any of the other signs of having met a life mate were cropping up, like renewed interest in food and such. Thank God, because if she had been a possible life mate and was Basha Argeneau…well, that would have been a doomed relationship from the start. Because Basha Argeneau was considered rogue…and rogues were executed. The last thing he needed at this point in his life was a rogue life mate.
“Hey! Marco! Are you going to stand around stuffing your face all night or help me with the pogo stall?”
Marcus glanced around with surprise to find Kevin Morrow walking toward him. The twenty-year old carnie was tall and stick-thin, his face a collection of freckles so thick that from a distance it looked like a tan. Up close though you saw that his face was definitely freckled, and it was also presently scrunched up with displeasure, reminding him that he was only supposed to take a fifteen minute break from helping to man the food stall.
“I was--”
“Stuffing your face,” the young carnie interrupted dryly and then turned away, gesturing for him to follow. “Come on. If you’re hungry you can have a corn dog while you work. It’s probably better for you than that sugary fluff anyway.”
Marcus blinked and glanced down at the cone with the half eaten cotton candy the boy had given him several minutes ago. Or what had been half eaten cotton candy. There was nothing left of the sweet treat now. Surely he hadn’t eaten it? He hadn’t eaten in more than a millennia. He didn’t remember eating it. But he did have a sweet taste in his mouth that was rather pleasant.
“Damn,” he muttered, tossing the cardboard cone into a garbage bin as he headed after Kevin. He’d eaten it. Couldn’t read Madame Divine, and was lusting after the woman. Oh, this wasn’t good.



gieaway
 


author


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Lynsay Sands is the nationally bestselling author of the Argeneau/Rogue Hunter vampire series, as well as numerous historicals and anthologies. She’s been writing stories since grade school and considers herself incredibly lucky to be able to make a career out of it. Her hope is that readers can get away from their everyday stress through her stories, and if there’s occasional uncontrollable fits of laughter, that’s just a big bonus. For more information, go to www.lynsaysands.net.
 


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Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Book Blast: How to Be a Man by @TamaraLinse

How to Be a Man Banner 450 x 169

 

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clip_image002How to Be a Man

Tamara Linse

Genre: Literary Short Story Collection

Publisher: Willow Words

Print

ISBN: 0991386701

ISBN-13: 978-0-9913867-0-3

Epub

ISBN: 099138671X

ISBN-13: 978-0-9913867-1-0

ASIN: B00HKSLFSQ

Number of pages: 238

Word Count: 59,650

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Scribd Google Books

Book Description:

“Never acknowledge the fact that you’re a girl, and take pride when your guy friends say, ‘You’re one of the guys.’ Tell yourself, ‘I am one of the guys,’ even though, in the back of your mind, a little voice says, ‘But you’ve got girl parts.’” – Birdie, in “How to Be a Man”

A girl whose self-worth revolves around masculinity, a bartender who loses her sense of safety, a woman who compares men to plants, and a boy who shoots his cranked-out father.

These are a few of the hard-scrabble characters in Tamara Linse’s debut short story collection, How to Be a Man. Set in contemporary Wyoming—the myth of the West taking its toll—these stories reveal the lives of tough-minded girls and boys, self-reliant women and men, struggling to break out of their lonely lives and the emotional havoc of their families to make a connection, to build a life despite the odds. How to Be a Man falls within the tradition of Maile Meloy, Tom McGuane, and Annie Proulx.

The author Tamara Linse—writer, cogitator, recovering ranch girl—broke her collarbone when she was three, her leg when she was four, a horse when she was twelve, and her heart ever since. Raised on a ranch in northern Wyoming, she earned her master’s in English from the University of Wyoming, where she taught writing. Her work appears in the Georgetown Review, South Dakota Review, and Talking River, among others, and she was a finalist for an Arts & Letters and Glimmer Train contests, as well as the Black Lawrence Press Hudson Prize for a book of short stories. She works as an editor for a foundation and a freelancer. Find her online at tamaralinse.com and tamara-linse.blogspot.com

Excerpt:

from short story “How to Be a Man”

Never acknowledge the fact that you’re a girl, and take pride when your guy friends say, “You’re one of the guys.” Tell yourself, “I am one of the guys,” even though, in the back of your mind, a little voice says, “But you’ve got girl parts.”

You are born on a ranch in central Colorado or southern Wyoming or northern Montana and grow up surrounded by cowboys. Or maybe not a ranch, maybe a farm, and you have five older brothers. Your first memory is of sitting on the back of Big Cheese, an old sorrel gelding with a sway back and—you find out later when you regularly ride bareback—a backbone like a ridge line. Later, you won’t know if this first memory is real or comes from one of the only photos of you as a baby. You study that photo a lot. It must be spring or late fall because you’re wearing a quilted yellow jacket with a blue-lined hood and your brother’s hands reach from the side of the frame and support you in the saddle. You look half asleep with your head tilted to the side against your shoulder, a little sack of potatoes.

Your dad is a kind man, a hard worker, who gives you respect when no one else will. When you’re four, if he asks, “Birdie, do you think the price of hogs is going up?” ponder this a while. Take into account how Rosie has just farrowed seven piglets and how you’re bottle-raising the runt and how you’ve heard your brothers complaining about pig shit on the boots they wear to town. Think about how much Jewel—that’s what you’ve decided to name the pig—means to you and say, “Yes, Daddy, pigs are worth a lot.” He’ll nod his head, but he won’t smile like other people when they think what you say was cute or precocious.

Your mother is a mouse of a woman who takes long walks in the gray sagebrushed hills beyond the fields or lays in the cool back bedroom reading the Bible. When your brothers ask “Where’s Mom?” you won’t know. You don’t think it odd when at five you learn how to boil water in the big speckled enamelware pot and to shake in three boxes of macaroni, to watch as it turn from off-yellow plasticity to soft white noodles, to hold both handles with a towel and carefully pour it into the colander in the sink while avoiding the steam, to measure the butter and the milk—one of your brothers shows you how much—and then to mix in the powdered cheese. You learn to dig a dollop of bacon grease from the Kerr jar in the fridge into the hot cast iron skillet, wait for it to melt, and then lay in half-frozen steaks, the wonderful smell of the fat and the popping of ice crystals filling the kitchen. When your brothers come in from doing their chores, they talk and laugh instead of opening the cupboards and slamming them shut. And your dad doesn’t clench his jaw while washing his hands with Dawn dishwashing liquid at the kitchen sink and then toss big hunks of Wonder Bread into bowls filled with milk.

When you wear hand-me-downs from your brothers, be proud. Covet the red plaid shirt of your next older brother, and when you get it—a hot late summer afternoon when he tosses three shirts on your bed—wear it until the holes in the elbows decapitated the cuffs. If you go to town with your dad for parts, be proud of your shitty boots and muddy jeans and torn-up shirts. It shows that you know an honest day’s work. Work is more important than fancy things, and you are not one of those ninnies who wear girlie dresses and couldn’t change a tire if their lives depended on it.

Be prepared: when you go to school, you won’t know quite where you fit. All the other kids will seem to know something that you don’t, something they whisper to each other behind their hands. They won’t ever whisper it to you. But they won’t make fun of you either because—you’ll get this right away and take pride in it—you are tough and also you have five older brothers and the Gunderson family sticks together. Be proud of the fact that, in seventh grade social studies, you sit elbows-on-the-table next to a boy about your size, and he says with a note of admiration, “Look at them guns. You got arms bigger than me.” It’s winter, and you’ve been throwing hay bales every morning to feed the livestock.

Your friends will be boys. You understand boys. When you say something, they take it at face value. If they don’t understand, hit them, and they’ll understand that. For a couple of months—until your dad finds out about it—your second oldest brother will give you a dime every time you get into a fist fight. The look on your brother’s face as he hands you those dimes will make your insides puff to bursting. Use the dimes to buy lemons at the corner grocery during lunch time. Slice them up with your buck knife and hand them out to see which of the boys can bite into it without making a face.

 

author

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Tamara Linse grew up on a ranch in northern Wyoming with her farmer/rancher rock-hound ex-GI father, her artistic musician mother from small-town middle America, and her four sisters and two brothers. She jokes that she was raised in the 1880s because they did things old-style—she learned how to bake bread, break horses, irrigate, change tires, and be alone, skills she’s been thankful for ever since. The ranch was a partnership between her father and her uncle, and in the 80s and 90s the two families had a Hatfields and McCoys-style feud.

She worked her way through the University of Wyoming as a bartender, waitress, and editor. At UW, she was officially in almost every college on campus until she settled on English and after 15 years earned her bachelor’s and master’s in English. While there, she taught writing, including a course called Literature and the Land, where students read Wordsworth and Donner Party diaries during the week and hiked in the mountains on weekends. She also worked as a technical editor for an environmental consulting firm.

She still lives in Laramie, Wyoming, with her husband Steve and their twin son and daughter. She writes fiction around her job as an editor for a foundation. She is also a photographer, and when she can she posts a photo a day for a Project 365. Please stop by Tamara’s website, www.tamaralinse.com, and her blog, Writer, Cogitator, Recovering Ranch Girl, at tamara-linse.blogspot.com. You can find an extended bio there with lots of juicy details. Also friend her on Facebook and follow her on Twitter, and if you see her in person, please say hi.

www.tamaralinse.com

http://tamara-linse.blogspot.com

www.facebook.com/tlinse

www.twitter.com/TamaraLinse

www.pinterest.com/tlinse

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/1481856-tamara-linse

Cover Reveal:Uncovering You by Scarlett Edwards

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clip_image002_thumbUncovering You

Scarlett Edwards

Genre - Dark Romance

Release Date - March 27th, 2014

Book Description:

When I wake up in a dark, unfamiliar room, I have no idea what's waiting for me in the shadows. My imagination conjures up demons of the worst kind.

Reality is much worse:

A collar with no leash. A prison with no walls. And a life stripped of meaning.

I am presented with a vile contract and asked to sign. It outlines the terms of my servitude. The only information I have about my captor are the two small letters inked at the bottom:

J.S.

Armed with only my memories, I must do everything I can to avoid becoming ensnared in his twisted mind games. But in the end, it all comes down to one choice:

Resist and die.

Or submit, and sign my life away

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Giveaway:

1 Kindle paperwhite

3 $50 Visa Gift Cards

5 $20 Amazon or BN Gift Cards

10 paperbacks

20 ebook copies

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

author

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I live near beautiful Seattle, Washington. I grew up reading all types of fantasy books before discovering the wonderful world of romances in high school. Now, I spend most of my time writing about sexy men and the women who love them.

Website - www.scarlettedwards.com

https://www.facebook.com/ScarlettEdwardsAuthor

https://www.goodreads.com/ScarlettEdwards

Cover Reveal: Kasadya Hellhound Defined, Book 4 in the Kasadya Series

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Cover Reveal




clip_image002Book Info -

Title: Kasadya Hellhound Defined
Series: Kasadya, #4
Author: Karen Swart
Genre:  Urban Fantasy
Audience: Young Adult 14 years and up
Formats: E-book and Paperback
Publisher: Self Published
Cover by: Melody Simmons
Expected Publishing Date: 10 March. 2014






Blurb -

Kasadya: Hellhound Defined (Book #4 of the Kasadya Series)


For centuries his only reason for existence was to destroy evil.  But when he finally found his mate, that all changed for the deadly Chax De Luca. When the hellhound Kasadya captured his heart, he surrended it to her, thinking he’d finally found what he’d been looking for. Little did he know that his mate would sacrifice herself to save them all.

His fury is legend. His wrath, merciless. His love for his mate, undeniable. He’s going to hell to retrieve his heart, and if that means that he must destroy hell itself, then so be it.

Kasadya awakes to a world in peril, her mate forever changed, and a war filled with evil creatures intending to enter Earth’s realm and destroy all that she holds dear. Can she complete her divinity in time to save her loved ones and mankind? Will she have to choose? Or will all be lost in the final battle?

The final battle is here, and with it, secrets are revealed and worlds are changed forever.

Book Links-

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clip_image006About the Author -

Karen lives in a small town in the Northern Cape Province, South Africa. She shares her live with her husband, two sons and daughter. If she isn't reading she is writing.

Her preferred genres are Paranormal and Urban fantasy. Karen specializes in payroll and HRIS systems analysis and development. At the age of 21 Karen's professional success reached its highest platform, an outstanding achievement at such a young age.









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Monday, February 17, 2014

Character Interview with Catheryn of Dream Knight by @DeniseLynn

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Today on the blog we have Catheryn of Brezden with us for an interview. Chatheryn is one of the main characters in Denise Lynn’s Dream Knight. We would like to thank them for stopping by today and sharing with us. Enough talk let's get on with it.

 

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Character Name:

Catheryn of Brezden

Character Bio:

Eldest daughter of Baron Brezden, 2 younger sisters who I haven’t seen since they were sent away ages ago.

CatherynandGerard

 

Describe yourself what is your worst and vest quality?

I’m 18 and yes, I know I’m beyond the reasonable age for marriage, but my father was killed before contracting a marriage for me and the guardian King Stephen appointed has other ideas than handing me and my fortune over to another. My worst quality? I tend to jump into the fire with both feet and worry about the burns too late. My best? Hmmm, I can run a keep.

What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?

That I’m really not stupid and that I do know what’s going on in my keep behind my back. On the other hand, if they knew that, it might make things more dangerous for me.

What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?

I harbor thoughts of murdering my guardian and his minion. Actually, I contemplate their bloody deaths nightly.

What are you most afraid of?

Lightning and dying before experiencing the marriage bed.

What do you want more than anything?

Barring Baron Pike’s and Raymond de Brye’s deaths? I’d like a husband and children. And a garden, I’d like a small plot where I can grow some herbs.

What is your relationship status?

Sigh...currently unwed.

How would you describe your sense of fashion?

Fashion? LOL – here in Brezden keep? I own one good gown. The other two are...serviceable.

How much of a rebel are you?

Not much really. I mean with this ceaseless war between Stephen and Matilda, being a rebel can get you killed—or tossed into a cell and forgotten.

What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?

I’ve managed to avoid de Brye’s clutches so far. That’s got to be an achievement of sorts.

What is your idea of happiness?

A few stolen moments of peaceful silence would be near to heaven. A little time to worry about no one and nothing except myself would bring me great joy.

What is your current state of mind?

Anxious. I’ve been having these odd, terrifying dreams of late that I fear...or hope, I haven’t decided, may come true.

What is your most treasured possession?

My mother’s ring. It’s all I have left of her.

What is your most marked characteristic?

The ability to keep hoping for the best.

What is it that you, most dislike?

Cruelty for the sake of pleasure.

Which living person do you, most despise?

That’s a tossup between the baron and his cohort.

What is your greatest regret?

That I was unable to save my mother’s life.

What is the quality you most like in a man?

Bravery.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Honesty.

Who is your favorite hero in fiction?

King Arthur.

Which living person do you most admire?

Shhh...don’t tell anyone, because it could get me in more trouble than I can handle, but it would be the Empress Matilda. Now there’s a woman who commands respect and knows what she’s wants.

If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

My physical weakness. I wish I were strong enough to overpower my guardian and oust him from Brezden.

What is your motto?

Believe in dreams.

If you would like to find out more about Catheryn of Brezden and her world check out the book blast below.

Book Blast : DREAM KNIGHT by @DeniseLynn

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blast

DreamKnight_coverDREAM KNIGHT by Denise Lynn

Genre: medieval/historical romance

Dreams of a powerful, black-armored knight resolve into sweet salvation for the captive lady of Brezden Keep—and true love.

“I WILL NOT MAKE A GOOD HUSBAND FOR YOU.”


Such was the warning of Lady Catheryn’s husband-to-be, the powerful warrior who dispatched her dishonorable guardian, unknowingly answering both her prayers and nocturnal visions. And he seemed right. His past was too bleak, his nature too violent. But Baron Gerard also promised to never beat her, to be kind, to care for Brezden Keep and her people, and the spark in his eye was not kindled by bloodlust alone. His strong hands could be gentle and build fires in her. So perhaps the witch and her magic sachet had the right of it. Perhaps Gerard of Reveur was not only a protector but a better husband and a truer love than either of their tortured souls could ever imagine.

 

author

denise lynn picDenise lives in Ohio with her husband, son and a slew of 4-legged fur kids. She loves sharing her tales of brave men and strong women with others. When not tapping on the keyboard, she can be found doing one of her favorite hobbies – sleeping, crafting, researching, hiking and, did she mention, sleeping.

Website: denise-lynn.com

Blog: deniselynnauthor.blogspot.com

Facebook: facebook.com/DeniseLynnBooks

Twitter: twitter.com/DeniseLynn

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Book Blitz and Giveaway: Embrace the Mystery - The Blood Rose Series, Book 3 by Caris Roane

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Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000030_00040]
Embrace the Mystery
The Blood Rose Series, Book 3
Publication Date: November 18, 2013
Print Length: 222 pages
ASIN: B00GRXTZ1E
Mastyr Quinlan pursues the artist, Batya, with only one thing in mind but soon discovers that his desire for her is just the beginning of an earth-shattering affair…
He doesn’t want a woman in his life…
Quinlan must keep Grochaire Realm safe from the enemy at all costs. As ruler of his realm, a woman has no permanent place in his day-to-day existence. But when his lust takes him to Batya’s bedroom, he soon discovers he’s deep into a powerful experience that threatens to blow his life apart. He wants Batya with a feverish desire that makes no sense in his logical, warrior world. But when an ancient fae attacks Batya’s gallery, he launches into protector mode and soon finds himself embroiled -- body, soul, and fangs -- with a woman he’d only meant to bed a couple of times.
She has no desire to get involved with a mastyr vampire…
Batya’s intense desire for Mastyr Quinlan stuns and baffles her. She doesn’t want to be involved with the vampire on any level. His sole focus of ruling Grochaire Realm has kept him from staying with one woman longer than the proud length of his fangs. Besides, she’s built a life for herself in Lebanon, Tennessee as an artist and healer to the realm ex-patriot community. But when the ancient fae attacks Quinlan at her gallery, then attempts to kidnap her assistant, Batya finds herself catapulted into an astonishing adventure. Even so, she works steadily to get back to her free-clinic and her painting, but how can she leave Quinlan behind when he’s commanded her like no other man ever has? 



 









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Caris Roane has published nine paranormal novels and novellas and writing as Valerie King, fifty Regency works. In 2005, Romantic Times gave her a Career Achievement award in Regency Romance. As Caris Roane, she currently writes paranormal romance for St. Martin’s Press and also self-publishes the continuing stories for her Guardians of Ascension series as well as stories set in other worlds.
 



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