Friday, May 27, 2016

Book Spotlight & Giveaway~ Euphoria by Scott J. Kramer

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Title: Euphoria
Author: Scott J Kramer
Series Title and Number: Territory Novel #2
Publisher: Prizm, a Torquere Press Imprint
Cover Artist: Kris Norris
Release Date: 6/1/16
Heat Level: 1
Length: 58,000 words
Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction

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The kingdom of Faldoa has thrived under its new queen. Euphoria has changed the land, yet evil lies in wait. During a mission to dispose of the last pieces of the magic mirror, she is attacked by a dark elf assassin using a mysterious box. Taylon, her captain of the Royal Guard is able to fight off the assailant, but not before damage is done to the queen. Deep in the Territories, a strange prophecy comes forth from the elves, and Council Member Gantha is sent on a mission to find a wizard of races. Little does he know that this little foretelling speaks of resurrection of pure evil. Taylon, with the help of a local medicine woman, seeks out a cure for the queen’s sickness in the far reaches of the kingdom, while the pieces of the magic mirror cause their own havoc.


Euphoria’s dark, chocolate-brown hair flew wildly in the wind as the horse freely galloped beneath her. She held back a laugh, enjoying the ride, trying to let her emotions regarding the kiss go. But they would not be suppressed. Ever since she attained this body upon the cracking of the mirror, life had been strange. No longer trapped inside a necklace, Rose possessed someone else now. Euphoria. She didn’t understand the magic behind it. Her husband Guilaud would have, but he… The horse jumped a fallen log, jostling her thinking into disarray. The feelings alone of being alive again were extraordinary. But at what price? Her true husband was dead centuries ago. I am queen. A vibrant, beautiful woman. But even with all of that, Rose felt that something was missing. Sure she was attracting handsome young men, in a different time, in a different land, posing as someone else. As happy as she was, sadness rooted deep within. Taylon knew the truth, of course. They had been through the wraith ordeal together. And they were even closer now. She felt their attraction, and she wanted it. But was she betraying Guilaud? Her horse swiftly took the corner and a tree brushed her shoulder. Thoughts scattered again. Taylon pulled up beside her as the trail widened. “Next town is only a little farther. We can stop there.” He flashed a smile. It soothed her worried mind. Thunk! One moment Taylon was there, and the next only his horse. Euphoria brought back the reigns. Her horse neighed, threw its head back in retort but quickly heeded the command. Taylon lay in the dirt clutching his shoulder, a crossbow bolt protruding. What was…? But those were the only two words she could muster before a scream filled her head. A piercing wail, shattering active thought. Suddenly, pain flooded her body. Fire, burning, scorching agony ripped through her heart. Her own voice echoed the scream. A force jerked her out of her saddle and she fell to the hard-packed ground. Her eyes wildly danced about, unable to focus through the tears. She heard Taylon, but another torturous scream erupted from within her. Something like needles traveled through her skin, poking and tearing. She swung her arm up, expecting to see cuts, blood, but there was only dirt and pain. Euphoria thrashed, arms and legs splaying out at all angles, trying to shake away the pain. Chaos convoluted her senses, a taste of something foul, putrid; an aroma of burning wood, and an obnoxious odor filled her nose. Above her, sky and forest blended into one. “Euphoria!” Taylon was over her, his brow creased, and his eyes roaming erratically over her. In a second between bursts of agony, she locked eyes with him, pleading. She heard someone laugh from the trees. “What have you…?” But the rest was lost as her own banshee cry drowned all else out. Death would be a terrific release for her. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours passed as she released her pain through tears and screams. Why? Who? When? All were questions that briefly formed before they were shattered, lost. As suddenly as it’d begun, it stopped. Swords clashed near her, but Euphoria barely registered it. Every cell throbbed and waited, anticipating the next wave of pain. Her mouth hung open, ready to scream. But nothing came. Except someone did scream. For a moment, Euphoria thought the pain was back and she had yelled. But it wasn’t her. Turning her head, black spots danced about her eyes. The cry stopped and now someone yelled words. To her? Was it Taylon? And he appeared at her side, fresh blood dripping from a cut on his cheek. “My queen!” She looked up, trying to answer him. The dark spots grew and she felt herself slipping away. She wanted to say thank you, and even I’m sorry. She wanted to say so many things, yet her mouth wouldn’t respond. Her eyes closed as the darkness took her.


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Euphoria Square

Meet the Author

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Ever since Scott’s mother denied naming him Scott Fitzgerald Kramer, writing has been in his blood. He watched his grandfather use an old-fashioned typewriter to compose memories about his grandmother. Finding out quickly that typewriters didn’t like him, Scott began carrying a scrap of paper and a pencil. Word processing changed his fate. Scott lives in Cincinnati with his beautiful wife and two adorable little girls. During the day, Scott as Mr. Kramer terrorizes sixth grade students, forcing them to read and write. Slowly, they come to realize that reading is fun and writing is something they have to do to pass his class. Euphoria is Scott’s second novel in the Territory Series. Soon the conclusion Taylon will be published. The first book is Kara. You can visit Scott at on Wordpress


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$50 Amazon GC, Tracers Tote & Signed Copy of DEEP DARK

Tracers #10
Laura Griffin
Releasing May 24th, 2016
Pocket Books

A gripping new romantic thriller from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Laura Griffin...

The moment detective Reed Novak steps onto the crime scene, he knows the case is going to rock his world. A beautiful young woman murdered at home. No sign of forced entry. No motive. She’s obviously not the killer’s first victim, and Reed’s instincts tell him she won’t be his last. Reed’s first clue comes via a mysterious text that links to a dating profile, but even more intriguing than the clue is the person who sent it.

As a white-hat hacker in the Delphi Center’s cyber investigation unit, Laney Knox sneaks into some of the deepest, darkest corners of the Internet looking for predators. Laney would prefer to stay away from Austin PD’s most recent murder case, but she can’t ignore the chilling similarities between that crime and her own brutal attack years ago. Laney offers to help the sexy lead detective, but he wants more from her than just a promising tip—Reed wants her trust. Laney resists, but as their relationship deepens she’s tempted to reveal the closely guarded secrets that could make her a key witness…or the killer’s next victim.

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Reed watched her, and she had that frustrated look in her eyes again. Every time she started to open up to him, he did something to tick her off. She shook her head and glanced away.
            “I’m a detective. It’s my job to ask questions. To push.”
            She looked at him again and her expression softened. “No, you’re right.” She glanced down at her beer bottle and picked at the label. “I’m glad she has you.”
            “Who has me?”
            “April. You seem--” She paused, like she was searching for the right word. “--committed.”
            He didn’t answer. It wasn’t really a question, but the way she looked at him gave him the feeling she wanted a response.
            She drained her beer and plunked down the bottle. “I should get home.” She stood up.
            Reed stood, too. He left a tip on the table and followed her through the throng of people. The bar was packed, and the music had gotten louder since they’d first walked in.
            They stepped into the warm, muggy air. It was dusk now, and a neon Lone Star Light sign cast a blue-and-red glow over the sidewalk. As they walked in silence, he thought of what she’d said about her job being meaningful. It was refreshing. Maybe he’d been a cop too long, but he didn’t know anyone who talked about things being meaningful anymore. If they thought about work in those terms, they kept it to themselves.
            Maybe he was jaded.
            No, he definitely was jaded. But it had more to do with his failed marriage than anything he’d seen on the job.
Reed spotted her little white car and felt a twinge of regret. He’d enjoyed talking to her, enjoyed being near her. And he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened with a woman. Having a beer with Laney had been the highlight of his crap week. Hell, the highlight of his month.
            She looked around. “Where are you parked?”
            “Around back.”
            She gazed up at him. He couldn’t read her expression.
            “Thanks for the drink,” she said.
            “You bought it.”
            He couldn’t read her tone either. The thrum of music seeped through the thin walls of the bar as they stood there in the light of the beer sign.
            She stepped closer, and a jolt of heat went through him. She looked up at him with those bottomless brown eyes, and he knew he was in trouble. It was a bad idea to involve this girl in his investigation. Whatever useful info she might have was outweighed by the fact that she was young, and edgy, and he wanted her. And she must have seen something in his face because her eyes sparked.
She went up on tiptoes and kissed him.
Copyright 2016 Laura Griffin

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New York Times and USA Today bestselling author LAURA GRIFFIN started her career in journalism before venturing into the world of romantic suspense. She is a two-time RITA Award winner (for the books Scorched and Whisper of Warning) as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award (for Untraceable). Laura currently lives in Austin, where she is working on her next book.

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Talking with RJ Scott about Boy Banned

I am so thrilled to be able to talk with one of my favorite authors today about their new release, Boy Banned. Plus enter the giveaway at the end of the post for a chance to win a great prize pack: $20 Gift card for Amazon or All Romance eBooks, 3 x Texas books, 3 x Bodyguard books.

 So let's get right down to it and start chatting with author RJ Scott.

Thanks for stopping by to talk a little about your writing! Let's jump right in. When did you begin writing and why?

I watched a little know show called Supernatural (!), and wrote a lot of fan fiction before Chris Quinton encouraged me to write a novel. I’ve not looked back since

Do you have a favorite genre? Is it the same genre you prefer to write?

I love romance. I mostly read in  my genre, MM, but I also read a lot of MF sports romance.

Do certain themes and ideas tend to capture your writer’s imagination and fascinate you?

Anger to love, enemies to lovers, the angry kiss… I love those tropes so much. Oh and hockey bad boys, I like them a LOT.

Do you have a favorite author who introduced you to the genre?

No one introduced me to the genre as such. I read a few MM books but then got stuck in writing them more than reading them at first. I think my thanks go to Slash fan fiction for showing me the kind of stories I could write.

What advantages or challenges does a writer in your genre face in today’s fiction market?

There is a huge army of people who ridicule romance, and inside our romance sits MM, and I think that it isn’t given a wide enough appreciation because people come to it with preconceptions. I guess the challenge for us as writers is to spread the word as far as we can so we can break the glass ceiling.

What's on the top of your TBR pile right now?

Any hockey books, that is all I have been reading for the last few weeks, devouring them one a day. I am so sad, aren’t I!!!

Tell me a little about the characters in Boy Banned.

Corey is the rocker, entering the competition because he can only make sense of his world when he is singing. Angel is the pretty boy singer who becomes his rock. I loved writing Corey, although him being on the spectrum (*Autism spectrum*) was a shock as I didn’t mean to start writing him that way. Angel is the product of a very male oriented family and wants to escape. He falls for Corey pretty hard, and is happy when Corey wants to  touch him all the time. They are one of my most favourite couples I have written.

Where’s the story set? How much influence did the setting have on the atmosphere/characters/development of the story?

The story is set just outside London and is set on a TV talent singing show based on a mash up of The Voice and XFactor. I love the concept of these shows and imagine the backstage awfulness. I wanted to show the shallowness of the show against the depth of both Angel and Corey. I hope it works okay.

If you had to write your memoir in five words, what would you write?

She was a good mum.

How often does your muse distract you from day to day minutiae?

ALL THE TIME. I am constantly thinking about writing, characters, worlds, storylines… that is, when I’m not reading!

What do readers have to look forward to in the future from you?

Where do I start. I have a new series called Legacy, which is a spin off from Texas. I have the third Montana book, and finally I get to tie up Heroes, with Deacon’s Law out for Christmas. I have co-authored projects with Chris Quinton (Ice), Clare London, Meredith Russell, and Amber Kell (End Street 6!!!). Yep, it’s going to be an exceptionally busy year!

Love Lane Books Limited –
ISBN Number: 9781785640469
Cover Artist: Meredith Russell

When the only way to win is to hide who you are, how far are you prepared to go?

Reuben “Angel” Jacobs is one step away from giving it all up. Losing a place in the live finals of Sing UK almost kills him. He has no choice but to go home and work for the family business, even though it means giving up his dreams and proving his old bullies right.

Corey Dixon is a rocker at heart. Being on the spectrum means that making sense of other people’s ‘normal’ is hard in itself, let alone in the chaos of a high-powered competition. Singing is his safe space, the only way he can think through the noise in his head. Messing up his audition for the live shows means his journey is over, and it’s the worst day of his life.

The judges throw them a lifeline and create a boy band from the near-miss hopefuls. Angel, Corey, and three others are put together in a room and offered the chance to sing as a group. Agreeing to become part of the new band means Corey has to hide who he is and what Angel has come to mean to him.

Is winning worth the price Corey and Angel have to pay

Unique Excerpt:

The cameras had left, replaced by a team of stylists, various vocal coaches—huddled in the corner in a tight group—and a brief appearance from the judges, who gave their sound bites on the situation. Not one of them claimed it was their idea, falling back on the party line that they saw potential in each of the five.
Angel watched everything with equal parts fear and excitement. The shock had worn off, and he was left feeling the hard work needed to start.
The tech waved a man forward. “This is your vocal coach.” A small man moved closer. He had to be fifty, with his gray hair tamed to perfection and a soft voice. His handshake was firm, but he seemed nervous.
That has to be a wig, was all Angel could think, and he couldn’t stop looking at the man’s hair.
As if the coach sensed the focus, he patted his temple gently, then immediately dropped his hand.
“Roger Moore,” he introduced himself, “And yes, I’ve heard all the jokes.”
Angel blinked at him and then realized what he meant. Well, the small guy didn’t look a lot like Roger Moore or James Bond, but at least he smiled at them all.
Roger checked his clipboard. “You’re with me in the morning,” he said. “Ten o’clock in Practice Room 7. That’s the last room on the left. Don’t be late.”
The stylists—one man, one woman, (neither gave their names)—stood Wildcard in a line, tallest to shortest, which put the six-two DK at one end, Scott next, then Toby, and finally Angel next to Corey. They were both five ten, after the stylists had told Angel to take off his boots with the heels.
“I’m thinking white and black,” stylist one, a short young woman with hair to her waist, said as she fluttered her hands in front of her.
What she was doing, Angel didn’t know. Sketching ideas in the air, probably.
“How about white to black,” stylist two offered. He physically moved them so that Angel and Corey were at opposite ends. “Look, we have the black clothes on the guy with the lip piercing.”
“Corey. My name is Corey.”
Stylist two ignored him. “Shades of gray,” he muttered.
“Really?” stylist one said in an incredulous tone.
“If it works for books.”
“I don’t wear gray,” Corey interjected. “Ever.”
Angel glanced at Corey, was that fear in his eyes? Angel shook his head; Corey wouldn’t be scared by a color change. Likely he was just out of his element.
“I don’t either,” Angel agreed, and smiled as Corey sent him a grateful look.
Both stylists looked from Corey to Angel and back again.
“We’re dressing you,” stylist one insisted, “not the other way around.”

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My goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

I've has been writing since age six, when I was made to stay in at lunchtime for an infraction involving cookies and the mixing bowl. You can't tell a six year old not to lick the bowl!

I was told to write a story and two sides of paper about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born.

As an avid reader myself, I can be found reading anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror. However, my first real true love will always be the world of romance. I love my cowboys, bodyguards, firemen and billionaires (to name a few) and love to write dramatic and romantic stories of love and passion between these men. (Yum)

With over 90 titles to my name and counting, I am the author of the award winning book, The Christmas Throwaway, which was All Romance Ebooks best selling title of 2010.

I'm also known for the Texas series charting the lives of Riley and Jack, and the Sanctuary series following the work of the Sanctuary Foundation and the people it protects.

I'm always so thrilled to hear from readers, bloggers and other writers. Please contact via the following links below:

* * * * *

Full list of all books and works in process

List of all print books

Reviews for RJ’s book


Prizes: $20 Giftcard for Amazon or All Romance eBooks, 3 x Texas books, 3 x Bodyguard books.

Thursday, May 26, 2016


Tidbits about Angelica and Zi:

Once upon a chat, we became long winded while answering questions at an online chat, and we thought to take this opportunity to share some of our responses with a bit of curtailing and a bit of enhancing.

Did you always want to become a writer?

A: Was born with a story in my mouth.

Z: Yup, her first words were gagagoba dada... which means... Once upon a diaper change.

What is the most, and the least interesting fact about writing?

Z: Most interesting... although we work in seclusion we're actually on a stage, displaying for the world the strange workings of our minds in the form of stories... all for the sake of entertainment

A: Less interesting... Zi makes great coffee

Z: Ang that has nothing to do with writing.

A: Sure it does... fuels my thoughts... energizes my body... puts me in a good mood

Z: You usually drink tea.

A: Well, there is that.

How did you celebrate your first release? Do you have a special ritual for celebrating a book release?

A: I sent smile-face e-mails to all my closest friends and family, engaging them to atta-girl me, and they do.

Z: The question asked about ritual. Ok, here's my ritual. My neighbor has this immense weeping willow tree, and after a book release, I wait for the blackness night in the heaviest rain, strip naked and run helter-skelter through the drooping branches screaming, "Look what I did... Look what I did... Look what I did..." Then I dress and act as if it never happened.

So tell us about your very first release as a writing team. What is it about, what inspired it and is it a stand-alone title or a series book?


A: (Making a note to avoid the office when it is a heavy rain and the middle of the night) ... is a stand alone at the moment but there is the possibility of a sequel, working title LOVE LETTERS.

Z: Our inspiration came from Angelica's handmade spoon doll collection and the simple words what if... All coupled with the state of our world and the post-9/11 fear of terrorism. We are both strong proponents that you confront fear not hide from it, and our small slice of storytelling is both cathartic and, hopefully, a place where some might find strength or closure. Obviously, that is a very serious point and we hope our tone and texture has reflected it but we are both humble enough to understand we may not have.

If you could meet any paranormal creature, who would it be and why?

A: A wyvern... there is so much intrigue in a flying dragon. Could I see myself as the damsel in distress with the valiant hero racing to rescue me. Damn straight I can. Then again, I can also envision flying in on a dragon to rescue a hero in distress...a nice hunky hero. (Big grin)

Z: I'm kinda liking cupid... kinda short and pudgy, wearing a diaper, running around with a bow and arrow, popping people in the name of love. Is that a gig or what? Now, if he gets a good annual out of it, I can see that as a future job possibility. Though a diaper in my size would require me jumping a fence and measuring the arse end of a cow. But, hell, money and arrows, cool.

If you could change places with one character from any book, who would it be and why?

Z: Killjoy, the clown from Stephen King's IT. To be both humorous and diabolical and to wear a funny nose and wig, wouldn't that be a hoot. Don't make me laugh I just might have to kill you.

A: Ssisapho from our book SNAKE DANCE... She's not the heroine but she is one sassy, sharp, determined shero.

Z: Yeah, a big you-know-what and is half dressed all the time. I change my character to anyone who is near her.

If you could travel through time to visit a special time period or famous person, what or who would it be and why?

Z: I'd visit Ben Franklin during his kite and storm incident and get the poop about the key and the lightning. I don't believe it happened and he has gotten so much pub for something that couldn't have happened but people believe it must have happened. I need his publicist.

A: I want is to go into the future when we can to travel to other planets. Imagine playing chess with Zisot from the planet Kilatot.

Z: Future... I saw Demolition Man. I think I might like that mental fornication. What do you think? Put on that little metal helmet, bingo, bango and whoa, whoa, whoa... Then again, chess is nice.

Where can readers go to find out more about you, your books and other good stuff? As well

If you could meet your favorite celebrity and spend the day with them, who would you choose and what would you do?

Z: Tiger Woods and help him count his money. Do you remember Scrooge McDuck with his huge vault of coins? The richest duck in the world. Quote, “Me I’m different, everybody hates me and I hate everybody.” That would be me. He he he...One...two...three...million...he he he... Then we’d golf. And since it’s my fantasy, obviously I’d win every hole by two strokes each. And we were playing a million dollars a hole….

A: Are you done yet?

Z: Maybe… Ok… ok… you’re turn.

A: Took too long… I forgot what I was going to say.

We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a free ebook (choose erotic or romantic thriller) and add you to any future mailings.

Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane - -

Book Spotlight and Giveaway~ Cinnamon and Cigarettes

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Title: Cinnamon and Cigarettes
Author: Samantha Kate
Publisher: Torquere Press
Cover Artist: Kris Norris
Release Date: June 1, 2016
Heat Level: 3
Pairing: F/F
Length: 88,800 words
Genre/Tags: Contemporary, Bisexual, Lesbian Romance, New Adult

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Sara Clarke, recent college grad, is sweet, demure, and cautious in all things, but especially romance—until she meets Moira Estrada, a bold amateur pilot and patron at the library where Sara works. Their intimacy blooms rapidly as they share everything from a sudden medical emergency to Christmas with the Estrada family. With her dashing new girlfriend by her side, Sara learns to overcome some of her greatest fears, whether they be acknowledging her own bisexuality, flying across the sky in a Cessna, or falling in love for the first time. But Sara’s fear of confrontation is harder to conquer. When asked about her relationship, she finds herself lying to her family, pretending to date a man so she can avoid conflict with her straight-laced and image-conscious parents. But her attempts to please everyone cannot last forever and could result in far worse than her parents’ disapproval: she might lose the respect of her new friends at the library, or become estranged from her sister—or, worst of all, Sara might lose the only person she’s ever truly loved.


Moira pulled her key-ring out of her pocket, plucking out a large silver key from her collection. “Fasten your seat belt. We’re starting the engine now.” She inserted the key; the plane gave a small lurch as the engine burst to life beneath Sara’s feet, and the propeller began to spin. This engine was nothing like the smooth start of a car; it ignited with a roar, like a motorcycle gunning to maximum velocity, and within moments that sound was pierced with sharp, rhythmic bursts from the propeller’s increasing oscillation. The sound was cacophonous; Sara put her hands to her ears, to block out a fraction of the din. Amid the noise, she heard Moira speaking into her microphone. “Fairways Air Control, this is Lamassu. Oil pressure gauge is green, transponder is on. Are you receiving transmission?…Okay, thank you. Requesting permission to taxi to Runway Three…You’re the man, sir.” Sara smiled faintly at her pilot. Moira’s combination of aviation jargon and casual slang was, admittedly, really endearing. So was the way her eyes widened as she scanned the blinking lights and bright monitors in front of her, grinning gleefully, looking simultaneously mischievous and reverent. “Hang on,” Moira said, removing one hand from the controller and fumbling around by her feet. “I forgot to give you your intercom.” She withdrew another pair of headphones, handing them over. “These will help with the noise.” Sara put on her headphones; the cacophony was quelled into the distance, now just a background ambiance. In the forefront now was Moira’s voice, smooth and sanguine, every word spoken directly in Sara’s ears. “Removing parking brake now,” Moira said, a hand reaching out to pull the brake knob near Sara’s knee. The plane slid forward, and Sara gulped, hoping to keep her stomach from lurching as well. “Beginning taxi.” They slid along the main “road” at a slow crawl. Sara noted each white stripe that passed by until they’d arrived at one of the runways; they did a slow 90-degree turn until they faced the open road. It was barely wide enough to accommodate the plane’s wings, and the forest was perhaps a mile ahead. Was that really enough space for them to take off? Even in such a small aircraft? Wouldn’t it take a massive amount of acceleration to lift them into the air? Was this even possible? Was it— “Trim and flaps set,” said the voice in Sara’s ear, shaking her out of her fretting. Moira had a more “official” tone now, like one might hear over an automated line, with measured rising and falling inflections. “Engine temperature normal. Wingtip strobes on. Airspeed indicator reads zero.” Sara fidgeted with the boom mic on her headphones. “That’s a lot of things to know about,” she whispered into it. Moira turned her head, smiled, and put one hand on Sara’s knee. “That it is. But I’ve had my license for almost four years now, and if I were a shit pilot, they wouldn’t let me waltz back in those doors.” She grinned. “I’m going to bring you home safe, Sara. I promise.” Sara nodded slowly. “Okay,” Moira continued, pulling her hand back and gripping the throttle, “Lamassu departing now.” She pushed the throttle in, gradually but firmly, and they lurched forward, slowly at first, but soon they were gathering speed—the pine trees lining the runway lost the detail of their branches and needles, and soon they were a blur of dark teal and mossy green, punctuated by open field—and Sara’s stomach was shoved down and back into the seat; she felt like where she once had flesh and sinew and blood there was now only a void, an empty space filling itself with nothing but the rush of incoming air— “Okay, Sara, we’re going to lift off—now!” Sara hadn’t known what it was like to lose the ground beneath her until this moment, when Lamassu’s nose flicked up and an anchor tied around her feet her whole life came undone, evaporated, dissipated into the afternoon sunlight—she realized it existed only when it ceased to exist. Suddenly there was space around her in every direction; she was now bound by nothing. The seat belt wrapped snug around her waist, the windshield ahead, the pane of glass a few inches from her right cheek—they seemed trivial, insignificant, incapable of truly binding her when the space beneath her feet was exponentially expanding. “You’ve taken flight, dear.” Soon the white lines beneath them vanished as well, as the runway shrank down, becoming a tiny part of a tiny complex that was quickly passing beneath and behind, no longer required, no longer relevant. She needed nothing in the air, only that constant whir of propeller oscillation, the humming of the engine, and the whipping of wind through the microscopic crack between the window and the fuselage. She almost thought she might float above her own seat, no longer subject to earth’s gravitational force. “How are you feeling?” Even Moira’s voice was distant now. “I’m fine,” she said, in a tone that was half hummed, half spoken. She reached one hand up to the windowpane, tracing random curves along the glass with a couple of fingers. “I…I’m flying.” “That you are.” Moira dropped her professional tone, her voice wrapping snugly around Sara’s head again. “And how does it feel?” Even the trees were shrinking away now, becoming indistinct clusters of viridian mixed with a soft palette of mossy and earthy hues, separated by strips of gray asphalt drawing mechanical grids along the earth. She looked ahead, and for the first time took in the sky; its cerulean blue spread out infinitely across the horizon, accented with a few wispy cirrus clouds and an occasional burst of gold light reflecting from nearby lakes. “It’s liberating.” “Perfect.” Moira pressed a few more buttons, and the plane gently pitched forward, sliding into a consistent altitude. Within a few minutes they leveled off, thousands of feet above the earth, the bustling metropolis a mere memory behind them.


Torquere Press

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Meet the Author

Samantha Kate works as a paralibrarian (that’s library support staff) for her day job. In her free time, she tries to pursue more creative projects than is humanly possible. Cinnamon and Cigarettes is her first novel; her short story, “Bottom of the River,” was published in Torquere Press’ Twisted Fables anthology in February 2016.

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Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Discover Marie Harte's New Release- Test Drive/Giveaway

Discover author Marie Harte's brand new series with the first book, Test Drive and make sure to enter the giveaway at the end of the post as well.

A smokin’ hot new series from Marie Harte featuring tough-guy mechanics and the women who jump-start their hearts.

Johnny, Foley, Sam, and Lou are the rough and tumble mechanics of Webster’s Garage. These reformed bad boys are used to living fast, but it’s the women in their lives who take them from zero to sixty in a heartbeat.

Johnny Devlin’s a charmer with a checkered past. He’s had his eye on scorching-hot bartender Lara Valley for ages, but she’s rejected him more than once. That doesn’t mean he won’t come to her aid when some dirtbag mauls her. When she asks him on a date as a no-strings-attached thank you, he can’t say no.  And then he’s saying nothing but hell, yes.


Before she followed him back into the living room, she turned off his oven, still drooling at the thought of a Diatavio lasagna. She joined him as he pointed out his amazing sound system and big-screen TV. Typical guy.
“And through there”—he nodded at the hallway—“are four bedrooms. I use one as a weight room, another as a study. The other two for actual sleeping.”
“Oh, a study. I only have the one bedroom, but you saw that.” She felt embarrassed at living in such a meager abode compared to this spacious one. “You rent, or did you buy this place?”
“Rent.” He shrugged. “The landlady is a sweetheart. I do all the upkeep, and she makes sure the rent stays the same. It’s a nice neighborhood, and with a little more care, this house would rock. I just don’t want to pour a lot of effort and money into a house I’m renting. If I owned it, then yeah, I’d get it perfect. It’s home, and it’s comfy. Works for me.”
He pointed out his weight room and spare bedroom—which had nothing in it. Johnny apparently didn’t entertain much overnight. At least, not in a bed not his own.
“And this… The place where all the magic happens.”
“Between you and rosy palm or what?” she couldn’t help muttering.
He heard her and laughed. “You wound me.” Still chuckling, he added, “But I deserve it after my pathetic attempt to feed you. No, Lara, this is my office.”
She looked inside at rows of…books. “You’re a reader?”
He no longer looked so pleased. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“I can’t help it. Okay, I get that you have a bazillion books on cars and manuals about how to fix them. But biographies? History books? Hey, is that Shakespeare? Edgar Allen Poe?” She goggled. “Tolkien? Holy crap. I think I even see a bible.”
“Nah, that’s not mine.” He shrugged. “That I found on the street.”
She saw a pile of books near it that seemed a little worse for wear. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about being religious.”
“I’m not.” He didn’t sound defensive. “I saw that literally lying in an alley near the garage. Nobody was near it, and no way I’d let a book just linger like that. Such a sad fate for words on a page.”
Yet another quirky facet of Johnny Devlin. The man was a bookworm. It only added to his appeal. The sexy-as-hell muscle-bound mechanic slash book nerd. There were too many books with creased spines to think he had them in his study merely to impress others.
I am so getting a piece of this man tonight.
He nodded to her beer. “How’s the combo treating you?”
She took another bite of licorice, then another tentative sip. “Shockingly, it’s starting to taste okay. And I’m not drunk, so that’s me admitting, sober, that I might like this.”
“Told you.”
“Smug is not your best look,” she said drily and followed him out of his study.
“You sure about that?”
Damn him, he had a point. Johnny looked amazing no matter what. Angry, happy, mischievous. She couldn’t say she’d ever seen him sad though. Frustrated or aggrieved, but not grieving. “Okay, Mr. Arrogant. What now?” She wiggled her brows, clearly mocking him. “Is this where we pause so you can show me your etchings?”
They’d stopped outside his bedroom door standing side by side. “Would it work?”
She decided to go big. She took another bite of candy and followed with a swig of beer. “Why don’t you try it and find out?”
She couldn’t read the look he shot her, but she followed him into his bedroom, intending to learn more.
This was most likely the room where the magic truly happened. He had a king-size bed. Go figure. A clean nightstand with a few books on it, an alarm clock, and a bedside light. A large closet with closed doors took up one wall. A tall dresser and hamper took up another. He had no mirror or other clutter in the bedroom. Nothing at all but a gorgeous, antique armoire that seemed out of place among the mission style furniture.
“No silk sheets?” she teased.
He didn’t smile back.
She nibbled the candy and drank again, feeling his stare to her toes.
“Na,” he said slowly, still fixated on her. “You slide too much on silk. And I like to plant myself firmly at the start.”
“The start?” she croaked.
He moved closer, took the beer from her hand and set it on the dresser, then drew the candy to her mouth. “Take another bite.” She did. “Now give me some.” She held it to his mouth, and he ate from her hand, taking the last piece.
Dear Jesus, the guy even made chewing look like erotic art, and she couldn’t look away as she swallowed the candy, a lump down her throat.
“I like when you swallow,” he murmured. “You have no idea how many times I’ve replayed our last date in my mind.” He kissed her, fast and barely there. “Those firm lips wrapped around me, swallowing me down.” He kissed her again. “You really had me by the balls. Literally.”
She wanted to laugh but couldn’t draw in a breath. Instead, she stared into his eyes, trapped by the desire there.
“I was desperate for you. Would have done anything you wanted for you to finish.” He stroked her cheek. “I want that for you. For you to feel that kind of need.”
“Oh.” Not the most intelligent response, but she couldn’t think past her sexual glands.
“You like when I kiss you?”
“I-I do.” She moaned into his lips when he sipped at her mouth. Good Lord, he’d put on the full-court press, and she hadn’t been prepared. She’d figured to seduce him again, not be the one trapped by her libido.
“You taste so fucking good.” The obscenity got lost under his groan. He kissed her with a hungry desperation. One she felt too.
She found herself clutching his shoulders and pulling him closer, shoving her breasts against his broad chest, and riding that long ridge of his desire against her belly.
His hands began moving, over her clothing everywhere, but not delving beneath.
Frustrated because, though he kissed her with fervor, he seemed way too slow in trying to get her naked, she tore herself from his hold, took the hem of her shirt, and whipped it over her head.
“Damn.” His eyes appeared black, no longer green. “You’re beautiful.”
She felt beautiful. She’d never been looked at the way he stared at her, as if she was precious. Lara reached behind her, attempting to loosen the bra, when Johnny trapped her arms there.
“Don’t move.” He kissed her again, this time cupping her breasts in his hot hands.
“Oh yeah. Take it off,” she encouraged when she could breathe. She thrust her chest forward, but Johnny would only caress her nipples, molding her breasts, not baring them. “Johnny…”
“Patience. That’s our word of the day.”
He gave a low laugh. “A three letter word for a place on you I’d like to know better.”
“No. This time I’m in charge, and I’m not rushing this. By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to want to scream. You’ll come so hard over my cock—the second time you come, I mean—that you’ll squeeze an orgasm right out of me.”
Before she could ask, he added, “I’ll use condoms, I swear. And yeah, I said condoms, with an S. Because once won’t cut it with you. No way in hell.”

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About Marie Harte:
Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Todaybestselling author MARIE HARTE is a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking or biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. She lives in in Central Oregon.

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Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Coming Soon- Demand by Lisa Renee Jones

His hand slides under my hair, folding around my neck. “I can’t lose you ever.” His mouth slants over mine, his tongue stroking deep, and suddenly we are crazy, wildly kissing, touching each other like we will never touch again.

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