BLURB: 

Eight years ago Emma’s life is ripped apart when Charlie saves her life from a devastating tornado and walks away. Left with nothing, she moves from Glen Springs, Oklahoma to New York. She finds success, but the only thing that feels like home is M’s Place, the diner near her apartment.

A trip to Las Vegas changes everything. Things are looking up then tragedy strikes. Emma moves back to Oklahoma with more on her plate than she ever imagined. Can she finally get her life together and put the history between her and Charlie to rest?

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 CHAPTER ONE

 April 2008, Glen Springs, OK

Charlie

            “Goddammit!” Charlie shouted as he cracked his head on the open hood of the truck he was working on. Rubbing the sore spot through his dirty-blond hair, he walked over to the chair by the messy desk in his uncle’s office and reached for his old, worn black leather jacket. His cellphone was ringing with the familiar ringtone Emma had assigned to her number. His stomach was in knots. Not the normal kind of happy knots or the intense fluttering of butterflies that warmed his gut when Emma usually rang him, though. He felt it with every part of him and this was the call that was going to change everything.

           He hit the answer button and with heart-wrenching resignation, raised the cell to his ear. Clearing his throat, he did his best to feign happiness. “Hey, sweetness, have you had a good day?”

            “Oh my God, Charlie, I got the letter! It’s here, Blaze, it’s really here,” Emma answered, her voice laced with emotion. Normally hearing his precious girlfriend use her nickname for him would have warmed him to the core but not today. Today, for some reason, it just made him sad.

            “So, you gonna leave me hanging or what?” He sighed. He was trying hard to be happy for her, but failing miserably. He knew once she opened the letter everything would have to change. Nothing good for them as a couple would come of this situation and deep down he knew it.

            “I haven’t opened it yet. I’m scared. I need you here. I can’t do this alone.”

Charlie could hear the nerves in her voice and steeled himself for what he was about to say. “Okay, sweetness, give me five and I’ll lock up. Uncle Hank is away now with Mom for the weekend now so he won’t mind if I close up early. I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll do it together.” He closed his eyes and winced to himself as he realized just what this meant.

            “Blaze, I love you so much! Please hurry up! This is killing me! Do you realize what it means if I got in? It means we could have a future away from here. This could be a chance to have a proper future for us. It’s our ticket away from this small town. But I need you here, too, because this is for us. I love you.”

            He took his time finishing up on the truck in front of him and unhurriedly set about tidying the tools and sweeping the floor of the garage. It didn’t take an idiot to realize he was trying hard to delay setting off. As if delaying the inevitable would make the whole nightmare go away. As he reached for the switch on the radio his attention was suddenly drawn to the warnings for severe weather in their area. He wasn’t too worried. Although it was late spring and typically the height of the tornado season, it was fairly rare to hear of one in their area. Despite the rarity, the threats came once every couple weeks.

            He silenced the radio after listening to the short alert and shrugging off his oily overalls and putting on his faded grey hooded sweater and jacket on over his shirt, he quickly headed out to close the workshop. Emma needed him and he was being a coward.

            The garage was situated on the infamous Route 66, and although the bulk of the traffic flowing on the iconic route was mainly tourists now, the garage still had a good flow of mechanical work, owing to his uncle’s local connections. The garage also had a small shop adjacent to it, well stocked with the essentials that most passing tourists needed, as well as offering a pay at the pump gas filling service. So, for most of the time, motorists could fill up without needing to head into the shop and his uncle decided that they could manage with just the two of them manning both buildings. In the height of the tourist season they employed part-time workers to man the shop, but it was not worth paying the wages this time of year for the amount of passing trade they attracted. As he secured the shop by pulling the shutter, he noticed again the weather was looking pretty wild across the other side of town. Drawing his coat tighter and raising his hood, he headed to his truck.

            As he drove the few miles across town to Emma’s parents home, he noticed that there was a huge storm brewing in the distance. The day had been hot and the moist air was suffocating. As he turned out of the parking lot of the auto shop and on the main highway, a huge shelf cloud had formed ahead of the thunderstorm and was heading towards town. It was almost as dark as the night during the middle of the afternoon and as he steered the pickup across town, the rain and then hail began to pelt down. The wind picked up, but it wasn’t unusual for them to experience storms like this regularly, especially when the heat increased like it had today. He slowed to a steady pace. As he neared Emma’s small home on the outskirts of town that she shared with her parents, the wipers were beginning to struggle to keep the windshield clear.

            He was barely able to concentrate on the road and the worsening weather. His mind was drifting to the letter that had become so important. Pondering what would happen when they found out what it said, he really began to doubt himself and wonder if it could all work out for them. He was a high school dropout with few prospects beyond the pittance his uncle paid him for helping out at the auto shop. He wasn’t qualified and had picked up the basics from his uncle, but he was unlikely to be able to head to college to learn more without his high school diploma. He knew that it was doubtful that he could ever really take care of Emma and give her the life she deserved. He had probably known this for a long time, but had clung to the notion that everything would be okay. He hadn’t wanted to give any thought to how different Emma’s future could be if she took the opportunities that were available to her. But he knew now that there wasn’t a chance for them going forward, and Charlie felt selfish for clinging to his dream of a happily ever after with her.

            He was proud of the fact that she had graduated top of the class. However, it took him as much by surprise as everyone else when she had announced she would not be applying to college. When she told him she didn’t want to move away and wanted to stay and build a life together, it blew him away. They worked together as a couple, and he had to admit that they had been blissfully happy these last eighteen months, but the guilt ate away at him more with each passing day. He didn’t want to hold her back. She appeared content to be working at the local law office in Edmond, a couple of towns over. She worked as an assistant to one of the lawyers and they had been saving enough to be able to afford a small apartment together. Emma was living with her parents and Charlie was staying in the trailer with his mom. It had just been him and his mom since he was born with only a little help coming from his Uncle Hank. Charlie had been caring for her for years, leaving her increasingly more dependent on his help so any plans he would make for the future had to include a way to accommodate her, too. But this was yet another burden that he felt Emma didn’t deserve.

            One of the senior lawyers who worked closely with Emma had convinced her to apply to law school because he felt she was wasted as an assistant. She, of course, had resisted. Charlie knew she would put up a fight. It had taken a lot of persuasion by him and her parents for her to even consider applying. When she was then offered a generous donation from the law office and a potential scholarship, she warmed to the idea. He had eventually persuaded her to apply to a handful of law schools. They argued daily and she had only agreed to consider going to law school if he agreed to join her. He hadn’t actually committed himself, but during one of their heated discussions she had said it was non-negotiable. If she secured the scholarship, she would able to support him until he gained employment wherever she ended up. But Charlie felt without a shadow of a doubt that his beautiful, intelligent and sweet-hearted girlfriend would ace the applications and even hedged his bets on her getting the scholarship to Harvard. If she did, he was leaving. He had to. It was the only way she would ever have a chance at building herself a proper future. He did not want her to be stuck having to support a hapless loser like him. He had to find the strength to leave her to get on with her life, to be successful and happy with someone who could look after her and give her the support she deserved.

            Even if it destroyed him.

            It would shatter his heart, but that would be a small price to pay to ensure she got the life he could never give her. He knew she would be heartbroken, too, no doubt, but he had to cling to the thought that she would find someone who could offer her more than his heart and give her everything she needed. He would survive and maybe one day find himself lucky enough to be worthy, but until then, cutting Emma free was the only act of selfless love he felt able to consider.

            Just as he stopped in his usual spot under the carport of the house the tornado-warning siren sounded and all hell broke loose. The wind whipped up, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the huge shelf cloud had followed him and was heading across the fields behind the house and straight at where he was standing. The sky darkened almost instantly as the weather front passed overhead. The hail that had been hammering down on him in town was now unleashing its full force directly above him. The noise of the hail hitting the corrugated plastic roof of the carport was insane. He looked back across the fields toward town and saw that the dark sky was turning yellow as the clouds thickened and the wind picked up. The trees bounding the field directly behind the house were starting to sway frantically and were almost bending with the force of it all. Then the murky afternoon was set alight with ceaseless flashes of lightening followed by the deafening thunder that began to rumble almost constantly all around him. This wasn’t looking good at all.

            Without a thought, he jumped from his truck and ran inside the house screaming for Emma. The telephone was ringing off the hook and he wondered where she had gone. He could see out of the kitchen window that they had seconds to react. The dark clouds were now a swirling mass of yellow, grey and white and he could see that as the storm was approaching the clouds were rotating majestically, mixing together in the turbulent air. Then he saw it, the tell-tale funnel of a tornado that was trying to touch ground. He had seen a few tornados in his time, not surprising as he was raised in the most tornado-prone areas of America. But this was a monster storm and in the few seconds he had taken to check what was happening he counted at least four separate funnel clouds that kept trying to touch ground and that meant one thing; complete disaster. The old, timber-framed house would be destroyed along with him and Emma if he didn’t hurry. He had to act fast. The weather was worsening by the second and with the intense hail that was now falling, they risked injury just trying to attempt to escape.

            Charlie raced into the corridor, down the center of the house and straight into Emma’s room where he found her listening to the iPod, oblivious to the scene unfolding around them. Charlie and Emma were caught right in the middle of Mother Nature was unleashing weather on a scale neither of them had ever witnessed before. Wasting no time, Charlie grabbed the stunned young woman and as he ran from the house with her in his arms the earphones fell from her ears and he shouted, “Where is the nearest tornado shelter, Em? We need to get there now!”

            The terror was clear on his face and he felt her stiffen as she clung on to him so tightly that her knuckles went white from the strain. He felt safer with her in his arms, despite the absolute carnage that was unfolding just a few hundred yards away from them now. He was trying his best to shelter her too from the huge hailstones that were hitting them both relentlessly. He could feel them ripping into the fabric of his jacket. He ran as fast as he could, holding her as if their lives depended on it. She must have realized she was hindering him and wriggled out of his grasp and grabbed his hand as she ran along side him.

            “Over there.” He heard above the roar of the wind and thunder as she pointed to the old Fitzgerald place just opposite her parents’ house. It was a large log cabin style home, which had in the past housed a substantial and well-stocked tornado shelter in the grounds. She had often told him that the place always made her grimace. He agreed, though that it’s odd looking, two-toned wood construction made it was one of the least attractive buildings in the area. Thankfully, it was buried within a large forested plot and was barely visible from anywhere until the winter cleared the leaves from the surrounding trees. It wasn’t too long ago that sweet, old Mrs. Fitzgerald had moved into a home near the big city and the place was now empty. He hoped that the shelter was still there and open. He later found out that Mrs. Fitzgerald had always made sure that Emma’s parents knew to use the shelter with them being her nearest neighbors. Emma wriggled from Charlie’s arms and they ran for their lives toward the side of the property. The storm was almost on top of them. He cautioned a glance back towards the house and saw that the funnel had touched ground and expanded in the time that they had run across the road and to the shelter. The thunder rumbled on, each clap merging into the next as the noise of the hail on the tree branches and the asphalt of the road made it almost impossible to hear anything else.

            Ripping at the overgrown foliage surrounding the doorway, he managed to ease the door open just as the full force of the tornado hit the neighborhood. Huge pieces of unidentifiable debris, along with pieces of farmyard machinery, large chunks of clapboard, and roofing that had been ripped from the recently destroyed houses were swirling around just meters in front of them. The noise was thunderous. The pressure changes were causing havoc with their ears and there was no way they could communicate effectively.

            Charlie turned to grab his sweetheart to pull her into the safety of the shelter and he found she had vanished. His heart failed when he realized that she could be anywhere by now if she had been caught in an updraft because the power of this storm was terrific. He stood from his position near the entrance and glanced around in every direction. Even though it was pointless he started frantically shouting,

            “Emma, Emma where are you? Emma!”

            His voice drowned out by the relentless force in play around him. Seconds later he ran in the general direction of a muffled scream. The intensity of the wind had obviously dragged her several meters from the shelter. Because of the increasing force of the storm, she was clinging for dear life to a tree. Grabbing her with both hands and holding on with all his might, he managed to free her grip from the tree trunk and dragged her down the stairs into the cellar. He safeguarded her on the floor near the shadow of what looked like a small bed and then went back up and tightly secured the shelter door. He took a moment to silently thank old Mrs. Fitzgerald for her emergency planning.

           As the relief hit him and the adrenalin coursed though his veins he fell against the dirt wall of the entrance tunnel with his back and his legs gave way. Letting out a long sigh, he realized he could hear the sounds of gentle sobbing coming from deeper in the shelter. The noise outside was phenomenal although he hoped that the storm would relent soon. He crawled slowly on his hands and knees towards his beautiful girlfriend, the love of his life, and took her into his arms and held on like it was all he could do to survive.

            As Emma melted into him, he felt complete and he lost count of how many minutes they sat there in the darkness just listening to the sounds of the storm raging above them. The only other sounds were of their ragged breaths and thundering heartbeats. That had been too close.

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AUTHOR INFO

30 – something Mum of two from the North of England (Yorkshire to be precise AKA Gods own Country) who regularly seeks refuge in fictional characters minds. Prefers the hot and hunky men with a romantic side but not averse to a dominant man, nor ones with a dark side too!

She decided, after much persuasion from both her friends and especially her husband to pursue her dream of one day publishing her own book!

So after much deliberation (and nagging from him indoors), her first book Steeling my Haart out now!

Book Title: Reft
Author: Libby Austin
Genre: Mainstream Romance
Release Date: March 28, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. ~
Newton’s Third Law of Motion

Brandon “Brand” Carmichael’s life was the stuff dreams were made of…too bad it was an illusion. As a guitarist for Inert Motion, Brandon traveled the world, performing with his brothers in all but blood. He never stopped moving all the while his mind played in a never ending loop. Now outside influences have changed the band’s course, leaving Brand’s life void of the balance he craved. Once again, his dream had become a recurring nightmare. Brand coped the only way he knew how; retreat into solitude.

Magdalena “Layna” Delacroix had achieved the long sought goal of her Ph.D. in Psychology, but success came at a high cost: over one hundred thousand dollars in debt. After being presented with the opportunity to fulfill her desire to help someone in the aftermath of tragedy, along with earning enough money to clear her debt and start a psychology practice of her own, Layna had to balance the means against the outcome. Could she be the force to stop the downward spiral of someone who refused to seek help?

Neither Brand nor Layna expected the reaction they had to one another. It was the opposite of everything they sought.

Could Layna live a lie while pushing Brand to live in the truth?

Would Brand forgive her for committing one unforgivable sin?

Or was he branded by destiny to be…

Reft

Prologue
August
(Micah)

I faced Brand’s parents. The guilt of knowing I’d failed my best friend resting heavily upon my shoulders. There was nowhere else to turn. Brand had steadily declined over the last tour. None of the other guys in the band could figure out what was going on with him either. The more we tried to include him, the more Brandon withdrew; the more he withdrew, the more erratic he became. It seemed the only time he functioned was when we were on stage.

Rubbing my hand over my head, I confessed, “We just don’t know what else to do. We thought it was drugs or booze, but we could never catch him doing it or find it hidden anywhere. Then we thought maybe he was going through groupies”—I grimaced at the thought of talking to my friend’s parents about their son’s sex life—“even though that had never been his thing before, but he wasn’t taking anybody back to his room and he wasn’t going out. He’s not eating or working out. He’s lost weight.” I sighed and looked down, focusing on the pattern in the rug. “With the tour ending and him going home by himself, we’re worried.” Looking up, I met their concerned gazes. “And in spite of feeling like I’m narcing on my friend, I’m here because he needs help and I don’t know where else to turn or what else to do.”

Peter and Sarah exchanged a knowing glance before turning their eyes back to me. As her husband squeezed her hand, Sarah asked, “When did you start to notice Brandon’s behavior changing?”

I shook my head and said, “That’s just it, it was like BAM—all of a sudden he just wasn’t the same. Then Danelle pointed out that he started acting like an ass to her when she and Ty started to get serious, and he’s gotten worse as the rest of us have settled down with girlfriends and wives and stuff.

“It doesn’t make any sense. He always got along with Danelle when she was our publicist, so I don’t get why he would suddenly be a jerk…” I trailed off as I thought back over the past couple of years.

Sarah’s worried gaze found her husband’s once again, and he swallowed and nodded his consent. It was time.

One day some words came to mind, so I wrote them down. Soon the words became sentences, which formed paragraphs, which, in turn, formed chapters. Before long, those words had become a book.

When I’m not reading or writing, I’m a wife, mother, and business owner. I’ve lived on the Gulf, East, and West Coasts, but as a born and raised Southern girl, my favorite will always be the Gulf Coast. There’s just no place like home…

Libby

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Synopsis

Alex Bradley has the life of a self-made playboy. He owns one of the hottest clubs, with his two best-friends. The women are plentiful and easily seduced by his good-looks and charm.
One night, he meets the woman of his most erotic fantasies. While high on lust over this vision of beauty, he makes a most painful mistake which alters his life forever.
Join him as he shares his hilarious story, by recounting the events that took him from an elusive playboy, to the perfect mate.

One night, a man meets the woman of his dreams and feels love for the first time. The man effortlessly wins the woman, and rides off into the sunset with her.
This isn’t me.
One night, a man meets the woman of his dreams and he feels pain and suffering. The man encounters numerous obstacles winning the woman, and has a bumpy ride to the end.
This is me.
The man experiences a magical journey towards love, filled with wonder and endless moments of perfection.
This isn’t my story.
The man experiences a tormented journey towards love, filled with chaos and endless moments of frustration.
This is my story.
Allow me to share with you my personal version of meeting the right woman, and all the wrong things that happen along the way.

Review

Oh my goodness its such a long time since I have read a book that has left me both laughing my head off and getting all mushy too! Even though I’m female I will admit to my eyes watering at the unfortunate incident that occurred at the beginning of the book! Poor Alex is all I will say without giving too much away!

Self titled manwhore Alex meets a blast from the past in the shape of the sexy female cousin of one of his best friends, Logan. They all go way back and despite Alex knowing Shay for some years, she is now all grown up and sparks fly for both of them. Somewhat incapacitated owing to “The Incident” Alex has to enter unfamiliar territory when he is forced to get to know a woman before he takes her to bed and honestly he really made me swoon in his actions several times.

Add to the mix the fact that Logan plus Shay’s father who aren’t 100% (or even 50) convinced that they should be together either!

The POV was brilliant as well and I love it when you get a story written from the male perspective. I really loved being inside Alex’s head!

This book also gives some fabulous leads to the stories of Dante and Logan the two partners in crime but also both seem to have interesting stores in their own right I really need their stories and look forward to reading more from S H Timmins!

This is definitely worth a read and will have you chuckling and swooning in equal measures. I really love Alex cannot wait for more! 5 Stars!

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Book Title: Unlike Any Other (The Unexpected Series, Book One)
Author: Claudia Burgoa
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 5, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

AJ

The name AJ Colthurst may not have any meaning to the public eye, but it should, as I’m the daughter of two famous celebrities. Like any superstar, they crave privacy; so much of it, they built a house in the middle of nowhere for us children. As we grew older, we discovered the lies they built as a fort to protect us from the media, ended up causing emotional damage along the way.

I carry a portion of the guilt on my shoulders; the other part I discovered is the separation of my parents. Their unorthodox ways may have driven me bonkers, but knowing they are no longer together is unacceptable.

That’s why I decided to rattle their cage by reminding at least one of my parents of the past and the reason they belong together. They need to remember why their love is so perfect and why they have to fight to keep it alive. Even if it means I have to dredge up some of my own painful memories along the way.

Gabe

Back in the early eighties, I set myself to succeed in the financial world. The first step had been moving to New York City to become a stockbroker, but things didn’t work out the way I had hoped. Instead, I ended up making movies and by the end of the decade, Gabe Colt had become a famous name. The downside to my career of choice: the paparazzi. In order to protect my family and our privacy, I maintained my family away from the circus. It had been for their own good; a decision we had made before we started our family.

However, those past decisions ended up chasing my entire family away and now I’m trying to put the pieces back together along with my little girl.

After a long first day of shooting Journey’s End, I walked towards my car when I spotted Abby standing next to the parking lot gate and checking her watch.

“Are you waiting for someone?” I scanned her from head to toe.

The tight tank top she wore left nothing to the imagination. Her snug jeans made my cock push against the crotch of my own slacks. I wouldn’t mind taking her home for the night, or having a quick encounter with her in the back of the car.

“Yes,” she responded. “I let my sister borrow my car and she is late—as usual.” She blew out some air and checked her watch again.

“I can give you a ride if you want.” This time I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Yes, I’ll take you up on your offer.” I jerked my head back and suppressed the smile that her answer brought to my face.

We climbed in my car and instead of asking where to, I changed my tune, “I’m heading for dinner, join me.”

“I’d like that,” she looked out the window.

I drove my new red convertible BMW toward one of the hamburger joints Chris and I used to frequent. She ordered only a shake while I ordered the usual; a double patty with tomato, pickles, and onion with a side of fries.

“This is different,” she commented as the waitress left, her delicate eyebrows arched above her beautiful green eyes. “I like it.”

“Peaceful, since they don’t expect anyone famous,” my gaze rested on her, enjoying her soft features.

Without hesitation, I grabbed her hand and caressed the knuckles of her fingers with my thumb. Her face turned a beautiful pink and a faint giggle escaped her throat.

Maybe I could see myself with her, I thought.

I could give her a try or at least ride her along for the next eight weeks of filming.

“What are you thinking?” her lips extended into a bright smile. “You’re too serious Gabe, I hope you’re not regretting the invitation.”

“No, I’m pleased with my decision.”

I scarfed the hamburger down and within ten minutes, we left the place. One thing I lost while hanging out with Chris had been the finesse to court women.

Abby gave me directions to her place and when we arrived, I walked her to the door. Instead of giving her a tender kiss and thanking her for the lovely ten minutes, I rammed her against the door and took over her lips. My tongue didn’t wait; it pushed over her lips demanding entrance and within seconds, she succumbed to the forceful domination.

“I want inside you,” I broke the kiss and murmured in her ear.

Yes, I lost all my diplomacy on that dreadful tour.

A gasp was her only response. She opened the door and as I shut it, I began to undress her.

Born on the mystical day of October 30th in the not so mystical lands of Mexico City, Claudia grew up with a childhood that resembled a caffeine-injected soap opera. Seventeen years ago she ventured to the lands of her techie husband—a.k.a. the U.S.—with their offspring to start a new adventure.

She now lives in Colorado working as a CFO for a small IT company, managing her household filled with three confused dogs, said nerd husband, two daughters wrought with fandoms and a son who thinks he’s the boss of the house. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.

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Book Title: Unexpected Eden
Author: Rhenna Morgan
Genre: Contemporary Fantasy Romance
Release Date: December 2014
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Paradise, love, power…and a prophecy with a price.

Most people believe Eden no longer exists. Lexi Merrill’s about to learn they’re wrong. A hard-working bartender with a self-sufficient backbone and a wary nature, she knows pickup lines like a second language. So, when Eryx Shantos barges into her world with too-smooth words and a body to back it up, she locks up her libido and vows to keep her distance.

Eryx has other ideas. As king of the Myren race, Eryx is duty-bound to enforce the laws preventing exposure of their existence to humans. Yet The Fates have led him through his dreams to Lexi, a temptation he doesn’t want to resist. The question—is she Myren, or human which makes her forbidden fruit?

When Eryx’s nemesis tags Lexi as his next target, Eryx insists on taking her home where he can keep her safe. Lexi had no idea “home” would mean the one-and-only land of creation…or that she’d trigger a prophecy that could doom her newfound race.

Author’s Note: I thought since Unexpected Eden is a fantasy romance based in current times, I’d pick an excerpt from the book that highlights one of Lexi’s favorite benefits of being Myren—flying.

In this scene, Lexi’s fresh out of her awakening and about to learn the mechanics behind getting airborne—a pretty big deal since she’s dreamt of doing just that for years.

“So are you ready to give flying a go?” Eryx asked.

Lexi glanced at the landscape behind her. “In front of everyone?”

Eryx edged closer, but didn’t crowd. He stroked her cheekbone. “They’re to keep you safe. Until we find Maxis, we need them.”

She wrinkled her nose and scowled. “Am I going to flop on my face?”

“Tell her about your first try.” Ludan smirked and crossed his arms.

“Can it.” Eryx said, but kept his focus on Lexi. “Picture it in your mind and let the energy do the rest.”

She nodded and sucked in a breath.

He stepped back.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and her hands fisted at her sides. The soft drone of nature hummed and wind swirled between them.

He held his breath, anxiety wrenching the muscles along his forearms.

“Yeah, not working.” Her shoulders slumped and she ducked her chin.

“At least you’re not jumping off of rocks or tall ledges,” Ludan said.

Eryx glared at Ludan and stepped between them. “You’re not helping.”

Lexi sidestepped and asked Ludan, “Who did that?”

Ludan didn’t respond, but the way Lexi’s lips spread into a sly smile told him Ludan had pointed at him.

Interfering family and friends. He couldn’t wait until Ludan found someone he gave a shit about impressing. Payback would be a bitch. He turned Lexi away from his somo. “You need to relax. If you tense up it gets harder.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one learning with a bunch of strangers watching.”

“Forget about them.” He cupped her shoulders and lowered his voice. “Close your eyes and think about your dreams. Remember how it felt to fly.”

The wind around them stirred, nothing too strong, but more than what Mother Nature generated on her own and crackling with untrained energy.

He eased back. “Just like that. Remember the feelings. How you took off. How you turned. What the wind felt like on your skin.”

Lexi relaxed her head, faced aimed at the sky with her eyes still closed. Peaceful looking with the barest smile on her lips.

He lifted off the ground and hovered a few stories above her. Pale silver shimmers danced in a fine halo around her head and shoulders, power ready for release. “Now open your eyes and come with me.”

Her chest lifted on a slow, deep breath and she opened her eyes. For a split second, her gaze clouded, then sharpened. She took two steps forward and shot into the sky. Overshooting his position, she squeaked and began to fall.

“Whoa!” Eryx snatched and steadied her against him. “You have to keep thinking. Autopilot doesn’t kick in right away. It’s like driving a car. When you’ve been doing it for years, you don’t even think about it. But when you first start, it’s all you can think about.”

She laughed, not the least bit concerned she’d nearly tumbled to the Earth. “I did it.” She braced her hands on his chest, the smile on her face enough to grip his heart and lock on tight. “I really did it.”

Her warm breath fanned against his face. His thoughts scrambled and a raw, achy need pushed to the surface.

Her mouth softened and she rubbed her hand, slow against his heart. “You okay?”

Reason batted at the back of his head, shrieking to get back in the game. Now wasn’t the time or place for selfish impulse. “I’m fine.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“I like seeing you smile.” It was only a sliver of the truth, a speck of the impact she had on his heart.

Her face glowed, the tips of her cheeks a pale pink. She glanced at Ludan, still on the ground, but poised for action. “Can we do it again?”

“That’s what we’re here for.” What he really wanted was to cart her home and practice at something much more carnal. He faced her forward. “Ludan will cover from below. I’ll stay close.”

She shot from his arms without a beat of hesitation. With every minute her movements smoothed. Her confidence radiated against his senses hot and heavy, slipping into its Myren nature as easy as a river found its course.

If she knew the type of relationship he craved from her, would she adjust to the idea of him as easily? He shoved the idea away before it could take root and tightened his distance to Lexi. He should be focused on her training, not postulating relationship suicide.

Every task he gave her she tackled, her enthusiasm and tenacity unhindered by the realm she’d left behind. And it was rubbing off. Not just on him, but Ludan and Ramsay too if the awe-filled commentary via link was any indication. Most people balked when it came to learning to land, but Lexi? She laughed and plowed toward it like she did everything else.

Her latest approach was faster than previous landings, arms high and opened for balance.

Eryx balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to catch her if she faltered.

Her energy sputtered.

He darted forward and swept her into his arms just as her knees buckled. “I let you go too long.” His voice was gruff, the angry beat of his heart and the fact that his stomach was lodged in his throat making a lighthearted tone impossible.

Lexi draped her arms around his neck. “Hardly.” A contented sigh hummed past her lips and her head relaxed against his shoulder. “But I am tired.”

Eryx lowered her to the ground, but kept an arm around her waist. “That’s burnout. Just like you had too much before, now you’re running low. You need food and rest. Once you’ve acclimated, the extremes won’t be so great.”

Stomach rumbling in agreement, she pressed a hand against her belly. “I love it.” Huffing, she leaned over and rested her hands on her knees, and looked up at him. Her eyes twinkled and she smiled wide enough to show perfect white teeth. “For the first time in my life, I feel right. I think I could handle just about anything you throw at me today.”

Could you handle the idea of being my mate? The thought leapt up along with a growl he barely kept in check.

I know, I know! A crummy time to cut things short on you, but I promise what happens next is…well…delicious. 🙂

I hope you’ll come join Eryx and Lexi on their adventures and explore more of their wonderful world.

See you in paradise!

Rhenna

Rhenna Morgan writes for the same reason she reads—to escape reality.

Yes, her life rocks—two beautiful little girls, a great husband, a steady job, and the kind of friends that would take you out back if you hurt her. But, like most women, she’s got obligations stacked tight from dusk to dawn. So, when the world gets her down, she slips into something…less realistic.

Romance is a must. So is a steamy romp (or four). Nothing thrills her more than the fantasy of new, exciting worlds, strong, intuitive men, and the sigh of, “Oh if only that could happen to me.”

So, if you’re picking up one of her books, expect portals into alternate realms and men who’ll fight to keep the women they want. Romantic escape for the women who need it.

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Book Title: Lost Wisher ~ A Troublemaker Novel
Author: Kelly Gendron
Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 7, 2015
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He’s ruthless. She’s relentless.
Together, they are boundless.

Fallon O’Conner is ruthless…
Each day comes and goes without meaning
He eats, sleeps, and waits
The time is nearing to confront his wife’s killer
And nothing will stop Fallon from getting his revenge
Then, Katie Rustle comes crashing into his forsaken life…

Katie Rustle is relentless…
Her boss needs something
Fallon O’Conner has it
And Katie is just the person to get it
She’s no stranger to bad-tempered, cruel, heartless men
A man corrupted by the loss of a loved one raised her

Kelly is the author of the TroubleMaker series, a stand-alone contemporary romance series, and she has a few romantic suspense novels out there too.

In a quiet suburb, somewhere between Buffalo and Niagara Falls is where you’ll find Kelly. When she’s not writing, she’s out meeting new people while representing a group of reputable nursing facilities in the WNY area.

Kelly writes steamy, blush producing romance novels. Her motto: “Bad boys, give ’em a little time and experience, and they will evolve into misbehaving men!”

Kelly loves to hear from her readers! Visit her at her Blog, Twitter, Pinterest, or Facebook Page.

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Book Title: Resist Me (McCoy Raven Brothers, 1)
Author: A.O. Peart
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: August 2014
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Book Title: Reclaim Me (McCoy Raven Brothers, 2)
Author: A.O. Peart
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: December 2014

Resist Me – Standalone Book One in the McCoy Raven Brothers series

One fateful morning changes everything.

Lisbeth, the lone spectator of a shocking murder, believes the FBI witness protection program may be the only way for her to survive. But when a powerful explosion reduces the safe house to ashes, killing all of the FBI agents on duty, will she turn to a perfect stranger for help?

Ethan, a former-Marine-turned-firefighter, has never really cared for any woman. He lives his life to the fullest, enjoying the bad boy stigma and cultivating a particular taste for dominant sex. Girls come and go, allowed to stay only long enough to satisfy Ethan’s wild appetite.

One morning at dawn, Ethan’s fire brigade is called to a fatal house explosion that levels the structure. When he pries open a trap door to the hidden panic room located under the house, he finds a gorgeous, though disheveled brunette.

Lisbeth instantly turns Ethan’s world upside down, and he’s overcome by the burning desire to protect her, no matter the consequences.

Reclaim Me – Standalone Book Two in the McCoy Raven Brothers series

When the past comes charging back, the choice is never easy.

Abused as a child, Willow Conrad has managed to develop compassion for others early in life. She believes there is some good in every person, even in the “lost souls”. But when Seth, her boyfriend, loses his temper one last time, she is left badly beaten and broken inside.

Jack McCoy has finally grown up. He used to engage in street brawls to release his anger and reassure himself of his own worth. Serving in the Marine Corps and then becoming a firefighter has put his life back on track.

When Jack’s friend asks him to help Willow, he doesn’t hesitate, despite a reckless predicament he narrowly escaped that very evening. But when he stands face-to-face with Willow, he knows his past is back to haunt him.

Will they take the second chance and let not-so-forgotten feelings resurface and blossom, moving past what drove them apart before? Or will Jack relapse into his destructive ways and lose Willow forever?

Resist Me

I don’t know how long I stood like this, but when I looked around, Ethan was sitting on the log a few feet away, watching me with the tiniest smile on his lips. Did he understand what I was feeling? And for a flitting moment, I believed that we actually gazed into each other’s souls.

He slowly stood up, his eyes locked with mine. Taking a few slow steps, he came very close to me. There was something predatory in his stride, but that didn’t frighten me. Instead, it made me long for his touch. I didn’t move. Ethan’s hands gently ran over my arms. His smile disappeared, and his handsome, masculine features rearranged into an intense, possessive look.

This alone—his expression and his caress—left me breathless, my heart pumping. I froze in anticipation. My lips parted. His right hand came to the back of my neck. His fingers wrapped in my hair, gently tugging my head back until my face upturned toward his. His other hand pressed on the small of my back, bringing our bodies dangerously close.

He kissed me, and I truly welcomed that kiss. No, I actually embraced it.

At first, it was tender, as if he wasn’t sure how I would respond. When I didn’t pull back, his lips skillfully explored mine. His tongue darted from between them, teasing me, testing my reaction. I parted my lips and let him in. He took my mouth with such hunger as if he wanted to kiss me forever.

His sharp intake of breath sent a wave of hot desire through me. I’ve never been kissed like this—so tenderly but intensely and adeptly at the same time. He tasted of mint toothpaste and smelled of a delicious mixture of soap, something musky, and something very male.

I moaned into his mouth. He inhaled again, and his tongue licked deep inside my mouth, sliding over mine, possessing me. This was the sweetest torment I’ve ever experienced. I was lost in this kiss; I was lost in this moment. The feel of serenity and peace I felt just seconds earlier was quickly replaced by sexual tension; by pure, shameless desire.

Ethan pulled away, panting slightly, his expression laced with longing and pain. It sobered me in an instant, and I stepped away from him. I hung my head, taking deep, calming breaths. This wasn’t the way. This shouldn’t have happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve never done that. It won’t happen again.”

I looked at him. “It’s not entirely your fault. I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.”

He clenched his jaw and walked away. I touched my lips, swollen from his amazingly devouring mouth. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted him, and that he wanted me too.

Oh, that immediately complicated my situation… our situation. Why did I let myself get lost in him? How could I forget the reason I was here with Ethan? Stupid, stupid, stupid me. I was mortified and mad with myself. Now what? Staying with Ethan in the cabin was going to be, mildly speaking, awkward.

Reclaim Me

“Shhh. Go and stand on the stairs right below the landing.”

Without protest, she did exactly as she was told. Positioned to the left of the door, I waited, for more than one minute, keeping my body motionless but ready to spring, if necessary. I sensed Willow’s uneasiness. She had no idea what was going on or what to expect, based on my weird reaction. That must’ve been very confusing for her, but I couldn’t explain now.

And then it happened as I predicted—the apartment door opened just a notch. My core muscles hardened and I kept as far to my left of the door as the adjacent wall allowed. That way, whoever was on the other side would see the area to my right—and their left—first, which gave me a couple of seconds’ advantage before they could notice me.

With my left arm in front of me for protection and my right arm bent, drawn back for more impact and my fist ready, I was in the most optimal position to attack if necessary. But I couldn’t make any move before I knew for sure that the person on the other side of the door wasn’t Rita.

The door creaked a little and opened wider, revealing a stocky, middle-aged guy in a dark hoodie. I stepped in front of him and, in one practiced motion, drew my right arm back farther, clenched my fist, and delivered a powerful upper cut. That should’ve caught him square in the jaw, but he was fast and blocked me with his forearm then countered with a precise punch toward my torso.

Willow screamed. I blocked the punch, twisting at the hips to avoid most of the impact. That in turn drew my assailant forward, throwing him off balance. I took advantage of his momentary unsteadiness and rammed into him with my shoulder, using my body weight to its full advantage. I had at least thirty pounds on him, despite his stocky build, since he stood no more than five foot six.

My shoulder connected with his ear, and I heard him grunt in pain. While he staggered backward, I had a chance to regain my own balance and adjust my stance. He moved with good speed, and by the time I was hurling another punch, he delivered a roundhouse kick, which I managed to avoid by mere inches.

The guy was trained in martial arts, but that didn’t deter me. I spent most of my life learning and practicing various martial art techniques and I was just getting warmed up here.

Another kick, this time a vicious front one, was flying my way, but I was ready. While I bent my knees and tightened my core muscles, I let his foot pass me then grabbed it and yanked forward. The last thing I noticed before he went down was the sheer surprise in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected such a dirty move.

As soon as he hit the ground, I was on him, throwing a heavy punch to his jaw. His head snapped to the right, and he was out cold. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip and the spot where I hit him last was quickly turning red.

My knuckles hurt like a son of a bitch. Hitting someone in the jaw was only painless in the movies. I shook my hand, wincing. Willow was right beside me. “Jack, are you okay? Who is this guy?”

I looked at her, grimacing more from uncertainty than from pain. The last thing I needed was for her to see me fight again. That was exactly what broke us apart six years ago. “I’ll live,” I mumbled, worried what her next words might be.

“You’d better.” Her eyes danced all over my face as if checking for injuries. She took my throbbing hand and gently enclosed it inside both of hers. “Let’s put some ice on this. It hurts, doesn’t it?” There was so much gentleness and concern in her voice that I forgot all about the pain and gaped at her in disbelief.

“I called the cops already. Requested the same officers as before. I’ll look for Rita.” She got up and went inside the apartment. She turned the lights on and I heard her call out, “Rita, it’s me. Willow. Are you in here?”

I was still stunned by her unexpected reaction, when the guy on the floor stirred. He was coming around. I rolled him onto his stomach and swiftly pulled his arms back. He groaned and started to thrash, attempting to throw me off. I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his forehead on the floor, twice—hard. He lay motionless, probably unconscious.

I needed something to secure his wrists and ankles together. “Willow! Did you find Rita? I need you here!”

She rushed out of the apartment. “She’s in there, tied up and gagged… and really pissed off,” Willow said breathlessly. “I need to get a knife to cut through that rope.”

“Wait,” I stopped her. “Help me here first.” I pointed to the man. “Take off his boots.”

“What?” she asked in disbelief.

“Just do it.”

“But … what do you want his boots for?”

“Shoe laces. Pull them out, quick.”

Comprehension replaced the look of incredulity on her face. A moment later she was tying both laces into one long piece, using a double fisherman’s knot. I stared in awe at her rapidly-moving fingers. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

“Rock climbing.”

She rock-climbed? That was freakin’ impressive. Willow offered the perfectly-joined laces to me. I coiled it around the man’s wrists and secured the ends in a knot that probably wasn’t as perfect as Willow’s, but would definitely do the job.

“Okay, I’ll help with those ropes in a moment. Go check on Rita and find me something to tie his ankles. I don’t want to take any chances of him kicking one of us.” I stood up and dragged the guy inside. When his legs cleared the threshold, I closed and locked the door.

A moment later, Willow returned with a solid-looking leather belt and a box cutter. “Will this work?” She gave me the belt.

I examined it. The leather was thick and the buckle was well-made. I nodded. “Looks solid enough. Thanks.” I wrapped it twice around the man’s ankles and then secured the buckle.

He came around and started to squirm. “What are you doing, asshole? Let me go,” he hissed.

I ignored him. Willow stood silently, frowning.

“Untie me!”

“In your dreams. Lie still.”

I stood up and motioned for Willow to come with me. The guy lifted his face off the floor and looked at her. “Ah, so you’re that little bitch who put Seth in jail. Whores like you should be beaten to death. That’s what you deserve, you fucking thief.”

“Interesting,” I said, “So this is some kind of revenge for that snotface Seth?”

I made a move toward him to shut him up, but Willow grabbed my arm. “Not this time, Jack. Seth’s friends deserve a proper welcome.”

Before I even had a chance to ask what she meant Willow took a vase with a bouquet of wilted flowers from the small hallway table and dumped the decaying plants and dirty water over the guy’s head. She put the vase down and stood with her fists firmly planted on her hips, admiring her handiwork.

The guy sputtered, gasping for air. Dark, slimy pieces of leaves and stems clung onto his face and hair. Baring his teeth, he unleashed an impressive spate of profanities and threats toward Willow, myself, and whoever else he could think of at that moment.

Willow flashed a really nasty grin and, cocking her head said, her tone mocking, “Next time you want to come for a visit, let me know in advance so I can serve something fresher. This was all I had available. I hope you enjoyed it, nevertheless.”

I gaped at her in disbelief. She was actually enjoying herself and didn’t appear at least frightened or ashamed by the man’s nasty comments.

“Now, if you’ll please excuse us.” Willow turned on her heel and pulled me with her toward Rita’s bedroom.

We ignored his shrieks and his feet and head banging furiously on the floor. He kept yelling about his bail money, and how he was going to make Willow pay him back.

“That was classy.” I chuckled, referring to her putrid flower arrangement stunt.

She winked at me. “Glad you liked it.”

“Remind me not to ever piss you off.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

Smart ass. I liked this new Willow more and more.

We found Rita on the floor, tied to her bed with a thick rope. Willow had already pulled the gag out of her mouth. “Jack! Help me out, would ya? I need to break that fuckface’s legs and arms.”

“You’re not breaking anybody’s limbs, Rita. Now, tell me what exactly happened.” I said and then asked Willow, “Where is that box cutter?”

Willow produced the blade and offered it to me.

Rita yelled obscenities at the guy again. He lay on the floor right outside the bedroom, while shouting equally colorful atrocities back at Rita.

“Be still, so I can cut that rope.” I kneeled down and began to slice through her bonds.

“Son of a bitch! I’m gonna fucking kill ya!” Rita screamed, struggling against her restraints. “Fucking asshole, who’s laughing now?”

“Rita, stop. Tell me what happened. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Willow helped Rita sit up, while I continued cutting the rope.

“That prick over there attacked me when I was leaving the Black Pelican. With all the commotion … wait, do you know about the drive-by shooting?”

“Yes, we saw it on the news and immediately drove there to get you, but we couldn’t find you, and nobody knew where you were. I called and called but you didn’t answer,” Willow said in a rush.

A.O. Peart writes romantic comedy, romantic suspense, paranormal, and urban fantasy novels.

Her Bestselling romantic suspense novel Resist Me has been listed as #1 in several Amazon categories and on Bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers.

Books in her NA contemporary romantic comedy series Almost Bad Boys were also listed as Bestsellers on Amazon and were nominated by the Indie Romance Convention 2014 for four different categories, including The Best Indie Upcoming Series, while Angela was nominated as Best Indie Author of the Year 2014 http://indieromancecon.com/nominations/.

Almost Matched was voted as #36 among “The 50 Best Self-Published Books Worth Reading 2014” http://www.indieauthorland.com/50-self-published-books-worth-reading-201314-40-31/

Angela lives in the Seattle area with her family and a chronically curious cat Cinnamon. 
You can often spot her in one of the countless Seattle Starbucks locations, feverishly typing on her computer and sipping coffee with cream—or rather cream with some coffee in it. Don’t be surprised when a paperback you ordered from her arrives “decorated” with coffee and chocolate stains (kidding!)

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Book Title: Dreamer
Author: Phillip L. Davidson
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

The U. S. government initiates a secret assassination operation called Phoenix. An elite team of assassins carried out this operation. The mission failed. The team, headed by Captain David Elliott is captured and the horrors and long-term effects of being a P.O.W. are vividly detailed. In the meantime Captain David Elliott’s wife, Sunny is kidnapped by the Argentine Police. She is the love of his life. David and his team go on an international mission to rescue her. This is an action packed book that will have you on the edge of your seat.

From Darkness to Light – A Soldier’s Story

Phil Davidson

When I landed in Saigon in 1972 I thought knew about the dangers that were ahead. After all, I knew it was a desperate place. Fighting and dying had been going on long before I arrived there. As an Infantry officer, a Captain, I had been well trained. I could set ambushes, call in air strikes and shoot my way out of a gun-fight with the best of them. I had also hardened myself against my subordinates, and intellectualized that taking casualties was for the most part unavoidable. I also accepted that I might be killed or wounded, though I had made my mind up that I would never be captured. That was what my hand gun was for. But what I had not foreseen nor planned for was the ‘darkness.’

I had just snuck into my hideout from a night ambush mission when I received a secure radio call from my Six from his lair near the Mekong to be ready to be extracted in two hours. Two hours. As the chopper lifted off leaving my little team waiving to me I expected to be back after receiving another one of ‘those’ missions. Instead I was put on a plane and sent home. Arriving in America a couple of days later I was a man from space. Seventy-two hours earlier I had been in a fire -fight. Now I was picking ghostly insects from my meal at home. Two weeks later I was a ski instructor for the Northern Warfare School in Alaska.

It was there during those cold clear nights that I began experiencing the ‘dreams.’ They came at night, like an ambush team, while I was weak and vulnerable, and while my ego was resting. Images of the jungle, the people I knew, and the things I had done. And after awhile, I began to have waking dreams. Yes, the ‘Thousand Yard Stare.’ While you were driving, while you were talking, while you were eating, while… I fought the dreams with things I don’t want to write about. I left the Army. But the dreams never left.

They accompanied me while I was driving in my patrol car after I had become a police officer. They took the place of script as I studied my law books. When I would walk down the street a car backfiring or some loud noise would invoke an embarrassing response from me wherever I was and with whomever I was with at the time. I trusted no one and everyone and everything was out to get me. I even joined the National Guard to be able to act out my subconscious desires. I was at a point that I was at the end of myself. I couldn’t form personal relationships and felt alienated from everyone and the society I was in. The darkness had taken me. I was alone and suicidal. I had no family left to fall back on and the institutions I had made myself apart of were not set up for understanding the human condition of their employees.

As a small boy I had been a member of a church, a small group that meet in the basement of a larger house. One of the deacons was leaving, a plain man with a friendly smile and solid voice, he gave the children, there were three of us, Bibles as parting gifts. That was when I was twelve. I still had the Bible. My grandmother had kept it for me and when I left home after joining the police force she handed it to me. She didn’t say anything but she knew. One night for some reason, to this day I cannot tell you why, I thumbed through it. My eye was caught by the story of David. I read it. And in my mind his story was similar to mine. Over the days I formed a bond with David. If God loved a man like David, a man that he said was of his own heart, then there was a chance for me. After awhile, when the darkness came, David drew his sword of light and cut it away. David had put himself to the task of being God’s servant. He didn’t run from evil, he faced it. I decided to find out what the darkness was. I read everything I could about what I was experiencing. And I found out it had a name-delayed stress syndrome.

I took a real hard look at myself in the light of day and I realized that I had been saved from death and disaster so many times by God. If God wanted me to survive then my life was worth something. The darkness would not win the battle for my soul. Each time I felt myself losing control I remembered that I was not alone. Like David, I could use the armor of God to defeat what threatened me. That is a point of healing for anyone suffering from PTSD. Your life has value to God and he will help you to fight your darkness. God is a warrior and he knows how to win battles. He will help you to cope.

Once I focused my life away from my problems I began to see that many of my fellow police officers were showing symptoms of the darkness. I was now an instructor at the Police Academy and had recently received Master’s Degree in clinical psychology. I began teaching officers how to cope the darkness, now labeled, post traumatic stress disorder. Thus began my journey of teaching others to defeat this malady. In 1982 I was appointed to President Reagan’s Vietnam Veterans advisory committee, where I centered on PTSD. In the years to come I knew that I wanted to write about PTSD and what it had done to so many soldiers. But I also wanted to write about what had happened to me not my experiences but my being saved from the darkness by what I know was God’s grace. Some would call it redemption.

But how would I do this? I wrote Dreamer. Dreamer is novel about redemption, but not redemption in the classical sense that has been written about many times. How would God redeem warriors? Warriors who had been sentenced to live in the darkness for questionable conduct. God would come to them as a warrior. I knew that this concept might be foreign and perhaps offensive to many religious readers. But I felt it was a story that I had to tell.

My central character is a man named David. I patterned him from the Bible’s David. And like King David, Dreamer’s David was a failed human being. David and his team were called upon to carry out Phoenix missions in Vietnam and all had the left the service in disgrace. Years later God comes to them and brings them together to accomplish an impossible task that will redeem them and let them stand in the light of men once more.

I used as a background for the novel’s action, the Falklands War. I’m not sure if there has been any fiction written about the Falklands War. Dreamer is gritty. There is rough language, scenes of violence, but also tales of bravery and sacrifice. I wanted to take the Christian and other religious readers to a real world, a world where evil lives and to show how it can be defeated. Christ never flinched from entering places of evil men and danger. I hoped the Christian reader would find Dreamer a little dangerous but worth saving because Dreamer’s David’s dreams were not a product of PTSD but rather messages from God. Those messages brought him from darkness to light. God’s power will lead you into the light.

_______________

Phil Davidson is a practicing attorney in Nashville, TN and author of the book Dreamer. This is a novel about redemption and the power of God to restore the fallen. It is available on Amazon.com. This book has been written to inspire everyone and especially those with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that there is a place for recovery in the arms of God.

Did your book require a lot of research? If so, what kind?

Yes, I had to do quite a lot – Phoenix, the CIA ‘s assassination program in Vietnam that led to Tet 658, The Argentine Secret Service that fought ‘the Dirty War’ and the Falklands War.

This book is very realistic when it comes to war and military actions. It has content for mature audiences because of its gritty nature. Life is that way, its raw, its real and it’s not all rose-colored glasses. Dreamer is an excellent book that shows the struggles that those in the military have to deal with, as well as life with challenges.

What inspired you to write Dreamer?

My belief is that God can and does intervene in our lives. I wanted to write about how he would do that with soldiers.

I wanted to tell a story about how God would offer redemption to warriors. I chose to portray God as a warrior. I know this thought is foreign to most religious readers but shouldn’t be. I took the lead character from the Bible character David, who like the characters in Dreamer was flawed but loved by God.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

Dreamer is a book about failed warriors, who lost their way as soldiers and human beings, in the horror that was Vietnam. (That war is so far in people’s rear view mirror, that we have forgotten how really bad it was.) These men made up a SOG (Special Operations Group) team whose mission was to carry out the CIA’s Phoenix Program (the systematic assassination of suspected Viet Cong, (which was so successful it lead to Tet 68). The lead character, David, was the team leader. One of the team members betrayed the team and David is required to execute him, but he is stopped from carrying out the execution by an unseen but powerful force.

His failure to do his duty lead to a horrific chain of events that ends with the team being captured, and tortured. At the moment that death is at hand, the team makes a pact – a covenant with God, that if he saves them they would aid each other no matter what or when for the rest of their lives. Afterwards, each man lives in the “darkness”. Years later God comes to them and give them the chance to redeem themselves and stand in the “light of men” once again. But the path he chooses paralleled with death and destruction. Dreamer is about redemption. God as a warrior gives grace and the chance for redemption to other warriors.
What was the toughest criticism given to you? What was the biggest compliment?

My first reviewer said there was too much sex in the book. She seemed to think I was pre-occupied with the sexual relationships of the characters. I took her comments to heart and toned it down in a rewrite. The biggest compliment was that one reader said he was inspired.

Philip Davidson is a former Vietnam veteran. He was awarded the Bronze Star, Combat Infantry Badge and Vietnamese Jump Wings. He was also a Kit Carson Scout. He was the author of the first SWAT Tactical Training Manual that has been used to train police across the country and served on President Reagan’s Veteran’s Affairs Council. His novel Dreamer is a military thriller and historical fiction about various wars and touches on the controversial subject of PTSD. Davidson is currently a Civil Rights Attorney residing in Nashville, TN. Contact Phil Davidson at www.phildavidsonbooks.com.

Book Title: Love the Way You Lie Author: Skye Warren Genre: Dark Romance Release Date: March 12, 2015 Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

A dark romance about the lies that lead us down…

I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town. I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers. I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft. He’s the one man who wants to help, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of? You.

In the first moments onstage, I’m always blinded. The bright lights, the smoke. The wall of sound that feels almost tangible, as if it’s trying to keep me out, push me back, protect me from what’s going to happen next. I’m used to the dancing and the catcalls and the reaching, grabbing hands—as much as I can be. But I’m never quite used to this moment, being blinded, feeling small. I reach for the pole and find it, swinging my body around so the gauzy scrap of fabric flies up, giving the men near the stage a view of my ass. I still can’t quite make anything out. There are dark spots in my vision. The smile’s not even a lie, not really. It’s a prop, like the four-inch heels and the wings that snap as I drop them to the stage. Broken. A few people clap from the back. Now all that’s left is the thin satin fabric. I grip the pole and head into my routine, wrapping around, sliding off, and starting all over again. I lose myself in the physicality of it, going into the zone as if I were running a marathon. This is the best part, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the slide of the metal pole against my skin and the cold, angry rhythm of the song. It’s not like ballet, but it’s still a routine. Something solid, when very few things in my life are solid. I finish on the pole and begin to work the stage, moving around so I can collect tips. I can see again, just barely, making out shadowy silhouettes in the chairs. Not many. There’s a regular on one side. I recognize him. Charlie. He tosses a five-dollar bill on the stage, and I bend down long and slow to pick it up. He gets a wink and a shimmy for his donation. As I’m straightening, I spot another man on the other side of the stage. His posture is slouched, one leg kicked out, the other under his chair, but somehow I can tell he isn’t really relaxed. There’s tension in the long lines of his body. There’s power. And that makes me nervous. I spin away and shake my shit for the opposite side of the room, even though there’s barely anyone there. It’s only a matter of time before I need to face him again. But I don’t need to look at him. They don’t pay me to look them in the eye. Still I can’t help but notice his leather boots and padded jacket. Did he ride a motorcycle? It seems like that kind of leather, the tough kind. Meant to withstand weather. Meant to protect the body from impact. The song’s coming to a close, my routine is coming to an end and I’m glad about that. Something about this guy is throwing me off. Nothing noticeable. My feet and hands and knowing smile still land everywhere they need to. Muscle memory and all that. But I don’t like the way he watches me. There’s patience in the way he watches me. And patience implies waiting. It implies planning. I reach back and unclasp my bra. I use one hand to cover my breasts while I toss the bra to the back of the stage. I pretend to be shy for a few seconds, and suddenly I feel shy too. Like I’m doing more than showing my breasts to strangers. I’m showing him. And as I stand there, hand cupping my breasts, breath coming fast, I feel his patience like a hot flame. This time I do miss the beat. I let go on the next one, though, and my breasts are free, bared to the smoky air and the hungry eyes. There are a few whistles from around the room. Charlie holds up another five-dollar bill. I sway over to him and cock my hip, letting him shove the bill into my thong, feeling his hot, damp breath against my breast. He gets close but doesn’t touch. That’s Charlie. He tips and follows the rules, the best kind of customer. I don’t even glance at the other side of the room. If the new guy is holding up a tip, I don’t even care. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who follows rules. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about him or letting him affect me. Maybe my run-in with Blue made me more skittish than I’d realized. All I have left is my finale on the pole. I can get through this. This part isn’t as physically strenuous as before. Or as long. All I really need to do is grind up against the pole, front and back, emphasizing my newly naked breasts, pretending to fuck. That’s what I’m doing when I feel it. Feel him. I’m a practical girl. I have to be. But there’s a feeling I get, a prickle on the back of my neck, a churning in my gut, a warning bell in my head when I’m near one of them. Near a cop. My eyes scan the back of the room, but all I can see are shadows. Is there a cop waiting to bust someone? A raid about to go down? My gaze lands on the guy near the stage. Him? He doesn’t look like a cop. He doesn’t feel like a cop. But I don’t trust looks or feelings. All I can trust is the alarm blaring in my head: get out, get out, get out. I can barely suck in enough air. There’s only smoke and rising panic. Blood races through me, speeding up my movements. A cop. I feel it like some kind of sixth sense. Maybe he feels my intuition about him, because he leans forward in his seat. In one heart-stopping moment, my eyes meet his. I can see his face then, drawn from charcoal shadows. Beautiful, his lips say. All I can hear is the song. I’m not even on beat anymore, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because there’s a cop here and I have to get out. Even if my intuition is wrong, it’s better to get out. Safer. I’ll never be safe. The last note calls for a curtsy—a sexy, mocking movement I choreographed into my routine. Like the one I’d do at the end of a ballet recital but made vulgar. I barely manage it this time, a rough jerk of my head and shoulders. Then I’m gone, off the stage, running down the hallway. I’m supposed to work the floor next, see who wants a lap dance or another drink, but I can’t do that. I head for the dressing room and throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants. I’ll tell them I feel sick and have to leave early. They won’t be happy and I’ll probably have to pay for it with my tips, but they won’t want me throwing up on the customers either. I run for the door and almost slam into Blue. He’s standing in the hallway again. Not slouching this time. There’s a new alertness to his stare. And something else—amusement. “Going somewhere?” he asks. “I have to… My stomach hurts. I feel sick.” I step close, praying he’ll move aside. He reaches up to trace my cheek. “Aww, should I call the doctor?” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” I grip my bag tight to my chest, trying to ignore the threat in his words. And the threat in his grip. I really do feel sick now, but throwing up on him is definitely not going to help the situation. “Please, I need to leave. It’s serious. I’ll make it up later.” He’ll know what I’m saying. That I’ll make it up to him personally. I’m just desperate enough to promise that. Desperate enough to promise him anything. And he’s harassed me long enough that I know it’s a decent prize. I’m sure he’ll make it extra humiliating, but I’m desperate enough for that too. “Please let me go.” The words come out pained, my voice thin. It feels a little like my body is collapsing in on itself, steel beams bending together, something crushing me from the outside. Regret flashes over his face, whether for refusing my offer or forcing me that low. But this time he doesn’t let me go. “There’s a customer asking for you. He wants a dance.”

Can you introduce yourself and tell us what kind of books you write? I’m Skye Warren, the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance! Thank you so much for the opportunity to share my new release, Love the Way You Lie. It explores taboo themes like betrayal and redemption, overlayed with suspense. If you’re up for something dangerous, disturbing and erotic, take a look… What is Love the Way You Lie About? Love the Way You Lie has a stripper heroine and a mysterious lone biker who is first her customer, then her lover, then her… well, you’ll have to read to find out. What you should know is that the book is dark, edgy, and sexy as hell. This is the first book in a new series set in a strip club called The Grand. Who is your favorite character in the book? I love my heroes—their gruffness, their pain, their occasional cruelty. But I have a real soft spot for my heroines. So I would have to say I loved Honey the most. She is beaten down but determined, bent but not broken. For me that’s what strength is about. What is the hardest part of writing for you? Nothing and everything. I love the actual writing, coming up with a story and falling in love with them. But reader expectation is such a tough thing—it’s tough in any genre but has particular challenges for dark books. Even the word dark means different things to different readers. But ultimately I can only write the books I love and hope that my readers enjoy them. What do you love about alpha heroes? Or anti-heroes, if that applies? Why are these anti-heroes so damn appealing? Well, for one thing, they are tough and driven. They don’t take crap from anyone…even the heroine, sometimes. They often do follow their own code of honor, it just doesn’t necessarily match everyone else’s. But I think it’s something more elemental than that. A man who takes what he wants, damn the rules? Well…it’s plain sexy. What makes a sex scene sexy to you? Or alternately, what do you do to write hot scenes? I love a scene I can get lost in, both the physical sensations and the emotional resonance. And what I find most sexy is when power comes into play. Not with games, but where one side has the upper hand, the mingling of distrust and desire, of wariness and want. What else should readers know about Love the Way You Lie? There’s also a free prequel to the series coming. The best way to stay up to date about my releases is my newsletter here: http://www.skyewarren.com/newsletter

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

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Book Title: Steeling My Haart
Author: Lizzy Roberts
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 13, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Eight years ago Emma’s life is ripped apart when Charlie saves her life from a devastating tornado and walks away. Left with nothing, she moves from Glen Springs, Oklahoma to New York. She finds success, but the only thing that feels like home is M’s Place, the diner near her apartment.

A trip to Las Vegas changes everything. Things are looking up then tragedy strikes. Emma moves back to Oklahoma with more on her plate than she ever imagined. Can she finally get her life together and put the history between her and Charlie to rest?

Charlie turned to grab his sweetheart to pull her into the safety of the shelter and he found she had vanished. His heart failed when he realized that she could be anywhere by now if she had been caught in an updraft because the power of this storm was terrific. He stood from his position near the entrance and glanced around in every direction. Even though it was pointless he started frantically shouting,

“Emma, Emma where are you? Emma!”

His voice drowned out by the relentless force in play around him. Seconds later he ran in the general direction of a muffled scream. The intensity of the wind had obviously dragged her several meters from the shelter. Because of the increasing force of the storm and she was clinging for dear life to a tree. Grabbing her with both hands and holding on with all his might, he managed to free her grip from the tree trunk and dragged her down the stairs into the cellar. He safeguarded her on the floor near the shadow of what looked like a small bed and then went back up and tightly secured the shelter door. He took a moment to silently thank old Mrs. Fitzgerald for her emergency planning.

As the relief hit him and the adrenaline coursed through his veins he fell against the dirt wall of the entrance tunnel with his back and his legs gave way. Letting out a long sigh, he realized he could hear the sounds of gentle sobbing coming from deeper in the shelter. The noise outside was phenomenal although he hoped that the storm would relent soon. He crawled slowly on his hands and knees towards his beautiful girlfriend, the love of his life, and took her into his arms and held on like it was all he could do to survive.

As Emma melted into him, he felt complete and he lost count of how many minutes they sat there in the darkness just listening to the sounds of the storm raging above them. The only other sounds were of their ragged breaths and thundering heartbeats. That had been too close.

30 – something Mum of two from the North of England (Yorkshire to be precise AKA Gods own Country) who regularly seeks refuge in fictional characters minds. Prefers the hot and hunky men with a romantic side but not averse to a dominant man, nor ones with a dark side too! She decided, after much persuasion from both her friends and especially her husband to pursue her dream of one day publishing her own book! So after much deliberation (and nagging from him indoors), her first book Steeling my Haart due for release March 2015!

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