PROMO: After the Burn

After The Burn Series PROMO

By Shyla Colt

Contemporary/Dystopian Romance

Date Published: March 29, 2014

  

In a world ravaged by the plague women have become a new form of currency. Bartered, traded, and abused they suffer under tyranny. One woman dared to be different.

Devon Brown spent the past eight years operating under the guise of being a male. The daughter of a Forest Ranger, she peddled her skills as she moves from town to town. This time her luck runs out when she’s discovered, and brought in to the leaders of the town, Cain and Cole Hart. Instead of being ejected, the attractive males, with the dangerous aura opt to keep her.

This is her story of what happened after the world burned.

EXCERPT

Devon Brown walked the perimeter of the dust laden gas station with broken windows and a sagging red awning. On the outskirts of town, the gray building went unnoticed by most in the town. Traffic this far away from the revived area they lived and worked in remained scarce, and she took making her way here every time. Three months into this new place, she fit in well. She didn’t want to upset the balance she’d found. Her eyes scanned the barren landscape. The chilly air carried the promise of winter. Frost formed in the mornings. It wouldn’t be long before they saw their first snow and this treks would become more difficult.

Her mind shifted to her new housemate, David. Due to his presence she hadn’t risked a full bath in a week. Hiding her secret got tricky with the young boy with hero worship dogging her every step. Privacy disappeared in this new society where the main goal was to live. Still, she enjoyed the jovial brunette. In his early twenties, he’d adjusted to life after the plague ten years prior a lot easier than those who’d had a lifetime of normalcy. His optimistic countenance presented a pleasant change from the doom and gloom, survival of the fittest jungle the world had become.

As on only child she’d lost her entire family when her folks fell victim to the mysterious strain of flu that crept into the population and never left. The supped up version of the Influenza took millions to their graves, and tossed the world into chaos. Raised on the good book, she’d thought it’d been the end of days.  If only I’d been so lucky.

Satisfied the integrity of the place held, she walked over to the bathroom door. The door creaked from disuse and she stepped inside, swiftly shutting the door behind her. A huge sigh of relief escaped her lungs, and she locked the door. For a short time, the burden of pretending to be something she wasn’t lifted off her drooping shoulders. The daughter of a Forest Ranger she knew how to survive. So, when women became the new currency she’d lopped off her shoulder length black locks, lowered her voice and peddled her skills as Devon Brown, the man.

She removed her book bag off her shoulders, placed it on the ground, and pulled out her necessary items, placing them on the counter she’d personally cleansed weeks ago. Prepped, she shrugged out of her flannel and stripped down to her underwear, bra and bindings. When her Double D’s became a feature that could endanger her freedom she’d said goodbye to femininity.  She unwrapped the ace bandage and sucked in a deep breath of freedom. The uncomfortable feeling of being held tight never fully dissipated.  Clad in skivvies, she turned on the faucet full force and picked up a bar of homemade soap and washcloth.

 She plunged her hand beneath the icy spray and built up a lather, flinching when she ran the soapy cloth over her torso. Her teeth chattered as she rinsed the material out and moved down her legs, saving her private area for last. Sure, a vagina didn’t shrink a penis, but the chill damn near burned. She pushed down the tighty whiteys she’d pilfered from the store, and ran the soft cloth across her center.  The door swung open in mid swipe with a loud bang. Blinding light flooded the dimly light room.

Her jaw dropped and her mind short circuited, refusing to process properly. Micah filled the door frame with his broad shoulders.  A villainous smirk spread across his thin lips. The lust visible in his dark blue eyes made her stomach lurch.

 “I knew there was something off about you.”

She yanked up her underwear.  He gave her a slow one over. Her skin crawled. The man rubbed her the wrong way. Rough, crude, and manipulative, Micah screamed untrustworthy.

“What are you going to do?”  She covered her breasts and shifted her weight, taking an aggressive stance. If she had to go down, it’d be fighting.

“Honey you know what I’m going to do.” An evil sneer twisted his Cupid ’s bow lips into something evil. “But I’ll be kinder than most, and keep you for myself instead of sharing you around. Pussy is power, and yours is untapped.”

She balled her fists. “I have rights, and I’m an asset. Not like the others.”

He laughed. “Won’t matter, Now put your clothes on. Don’t want to get jumped for my new pieces of ass before I can take it out for a spin. We’re going to see the Harts.”

Her panic spiked. Cole and Cain ran the tiny town with an iron fist. After they accepted her into their fold, and placed her in charge of overseeing water purification, she did everything possible to gain their trust, and stay well under their radar. The chiseled faced, hard bodied brothers were straight shooters. They didn’t stand for deceit, cheating, or withholding. Ex bar owners with numerous run-ins with the law, the two possessed a dangerous edge that made her tread lightly. Her knees wobbled, and she leaned against the sink to stay upright. The cool porcelain grounded her. Brought her back to reality.

“I’d leave you to change, but I know how wily you are, and let’s face it. I’m enjoying the view. It’s been a long time since I saw a woman as good looking as you. No bruises, dead eyes, or sloppiness.” He licked his lips. “We’re going to have fun. I never had a chocolate cupcake before. Do you have a creamy center?” His boots thudded against the faded white tiles as he stalked over and paused a few inches away.

“You look so soft.” He trailed a finger down her face, and she jerked turning her face from his caress.

“Don’t touch me.”  She barred her teeth.

“Time to get acclimated to it, sweetheart.”  He moved his hand to grip her breast, and she smacked it away.

“Nothing’s been decided, and I swear to you. If you try to claim me, it’ll be the last thing you do.”   I didn’t fight tooth and nail all this time to end up some sex toy to this sadistic fuck.

“It’s the new world order. Your opinions don’t matter for shit, sweetheart.”

“I live by my own set of rules.”  She balled her hands into fists, drawing strength from her anger.

“Maybe when you were thought to be a man.”

“Always.” She narrowed her eyes.

“We’ll see.”

She huffed, and pulled on her clothing, head held high. After starring death in the face, she’d be damned if she fell to pieces over this spineless piece of maggot shit.

Shyla Colt

Told once ‘You have to be an author, then you’re craziness becomes eccentrics’, Shyla Colt has always been in love with the written word and possessed a desire to write. Named after Super Girl in the comics, she often mistakes her mortality for super hero status. So, she holds many hats, Mother, Marine Wife, and writer are her top three. Writing allows her to explore new venues, face her demons, and touch others. A huge practitioner of paying it forward, and putting in what you want to get out, she hopes to inspire, enlighten, move, and entertain you with her work. Mixing humor, drama, and strong women, often with a paranormal element, she continues to soldier ahead in the writing field. One of her favorite things is talking to fans. If you’d like to learn more or just drop a line, please check her out at http://www.shylacolt.com. or email at

sassy3134@gmail.com.

Author Links

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Release Blitz: Captured by Jane Atchley

Captured - PROMO Blitz

By Jane Atchley

Fantasy Romance (Lite Paranormal)

A Garrison Love Story Book 2

Date Published: April 1, 201

War makes strange bedfellow.

Shape shifter, Faelan Foley, goes to war determined to win equality in a society where women are possessions, but when she’s forced to shift and arrested as a spy, a soul-searing friendship with the enemy Field Marshal develops threatening her heart and her definition of equality.

Aimery Duncan traded the privileged life of an island landholder for the anonymity of a cavalry officer. He never expects to find himself Field Marshal of the Allied Kingdom Army facing an invading enemy. Let alone meet his soul mate. Too bad, she is a shape-shifter and an enemy spy.

Can Duncan do his duty, save Faelan from the hangman’s noose, and somehow convince her that love is stronger than war?

EXCERPT

"Damn Nicholas. Who does he think he is?" Faelan shouldn’t have let Nicholas's possessiveness get to her, but it galled. It was the sort of thing she had sought to avoid by volunteering with the army. "Where does he find the nerve?"

Riding beside her on a stolen dun gelding, Quinn wisely held his tongue. Like big brothers everywhere he was a maddening tease, but in a quarrel he came down on Faelan’s side every time. Near the spot where they had encountered the blue-jacket scout, she reined in, slid out of the saddle, and rubbed her backside. Why did she always have to ride a mule?

"I know Nicholas is your friend, but I’m not marrying him no matter what anyone thinks. And I’ll tell you another thing; I’m not marrying anyone who thinks he can tell me how to live my life."

"I’ll be sure to relay your thoughts to Nicholas."

Faelan arched her brow. "When I need your help, I’ll ask for it." She glanced around. "Wasn’t there a cave around here somewhere?"

Quinn touched his chest. "Are you asking me for help?"

Faelan showed her teeth, a snarl not a smile.

Quinn laughed. "See the dark spot behind the thin stand of firs over there?"

Faelan nodded. "I’ll leave my clothes in the cave, and we can meet here until the enemy breaks camp." Handing Quinn her reins, she headed for the dark niche within the rocks.

"Wait." Quinn jumped down. "Are you sure I can't talk you out of this?"

Faelan gave a long-suffering sigh. "It will help our war effort."

"I don’t doubt it, but I wonder if it’s the war effort you’re so eager to help."

"I don’t see your meaning."

"I know your appetites, little sister, better than I know my own. You want to devour the pretty little field marshal."

"My wolf wants to devour him." She flashed a saucy grin. "I’d settle for a good licking."

"Lan-nie."

"Qu-inn." Faelan matched his tone.

"Don’t get killed."

"I won’t. I promise. Come give me a hug. I have to find an enemy soldier with a weakness for dogs before nightfall. Please don’t worry Quinn. This will work, you’ll see. We’ll meet here in two nights."

Faelan padded down a pine needle carpeted deer trail in wolf form considering her brother’s words. She didn’t want to gobble up the field marshal. She wanted to roll over and show her belly. Given her mission, this dangerous desire annoyed the hell out of her. Pausing, she raised her nose, tested the air for scent and found what she sought, steel and horses, and death. Crouching low Faelan eased toward the source.

She could not believe her luck. Commanders kept to the safety of camp. At least they did in her army. But the field marshal and his demon crouched beside the scout’s body looking at—Oh great ancestor Quinn’s fur!

The demon rubbed the inky fur between his fingers. "Duncan, this fur is...it’s not right."

Duncan. The field marshal’s name sizzled through Faelan’s bloodstream, found a home in her heart, and melted in. She shook herself. Oh, yes. This man was danger in a pretty wrapper. Moments later, the search party mounted and turned their fine horses toward their camp. The demon walked at Duncan’s stirrup leading his own mount burdened with the body of the blue-jacket scout. Mindful of Descendant tales and warnings of demon powers, Faelan followed the group at a respectful distance.

Faelan had seen this demon in the camp, tall, rapier thin, lean-muscled, a terrible beauty with spiky golden hair, tapered ears, and rich amber eyes. The tales said demons didn’t age, but this one’s mannerisms suggested youth. Obviously, Duncan’s creature, Faelan smelled his devotion like spice on the wind. Keeping downwind, hidden by trees, she strained her hearing in hopes of gleaning some useful information, but her enemy’s mood was somber. Frustrated, Faelan turned to her other senses.

The field marshal, the demon, two of the men, and the woman wore blue-jackets. Having never seen a female warrior before, the woman fascinated Faelan. Citizen militia made up the rest of their party. Faelan had seen their like before in the little villages her people raided before the field marshal brought his cavalry into the field. Each man wore his own regimentals, one a rich burgundy, one a dark green, the other a pale gray trimmed in dark blue.

The search party stopped near a clear slow moving creek, and the demon passed out meat pies. The rich aroma made Faelan’s stomach growl. She inched forward watching, listening, and was rewarded with the first chink in the field marshal’s army. The militiamen took their portions and moved apart from the blue-jackets. Abruptly, the demon raised his head, sniffed the air, and glanced toward her hiding place. Faelan melted back into the trees.

The field marshal walked slowly along the shallow stream moving away from his group. His magnificent horse, gray as a storm with scattering of black spots across its white rump, trailed behind dipping its elegant head to the stream now and again.

Faelan paced him.

Duncan squatted in the stream and let the cold water sluice over his hands. He reeked of regret. Would death on a large scale slow his relentless pursuit of her people? Could the Descendants even manage something like that in their current sorry state?

Faelan circled.

Upwind now, Duncan’s elegant spotted horse caught her scent. Its head lifted. The warhorse looked straight at her, nostrils flared. Faelan crouched even lower. Tail tucked tight against her belly, ears flat against her skull, she inched forward.

"Be very still, Aimery Duncan."

The demon’s voice came from Faelan’s right. Until he spoke, she had not seen, heard, or even smelled him, so intent had she been on the field marshal. The demon stood about twenty feet away with a short powerful looking bow aimed at her heart.

Duncan looked up and trapped Faelan in the full force of his remarkable eyes. For a minute she couldn’t move, melting in his burning sapphire gaze. A whimper slipped from her mouth. She dropped her rump lower and tucked her tail tighter against her belly. Her posture screamed I’m harmless.

The field marshal held his hand out palm up. "Come to me, Azure-eyes. I will not let the terrible elf shoot you." He shot his demon a determined look. "I have seen enough death today, Eamon." His gaze returned to her. "Come here, my beauty. There is nothing to fear."

Duncan’s voice flowed over her, warm as a summer day. It soothed her, compelled her. Faelan inched forward, aware the demon—elf had not relaxed the tension on his bow. Faelan’s nose grazed Duncan’s fingertips. His skin smelled of oranges and chocolate. Faelan gave in to desire. She rolled over and exposed her soft creamy belly to his touch.

He rubbed her thick fur and smiled. "You see, Eamon. She is just a big friendly dog. A real beauty too, I think."

He thought she was beautiful. The demon—the elf, Faelan corrected herself again, didn’t look convinced, but he lowered his bow.

"Where did it come from, Duncan?" The elf moved closer. "It looks like a wolf. Come away from it."

"This dog did not kill our trooper." Duncan pushed to his feet, wiping his hands on his thighs. "You worry too much."

"My Captain told me to look after you."

"Did he?" Duncan punched the elf’s shoulder in passing, as men do. "He said just the opposite to me."

Faelan stayed on her back, vulnerable. The elf troubled her. He knew there was something ‘not right’ about Quinn’s fur. He was suspicious of her and he had unknown powers.

"Look at her, Eamon," Duncan collected his horse’s reins. "How many white, blue-eyed wolves have you seen? She is a cross breed probably from one of the burned out farmsteads we passed left behind to die." He turned, patted his leg. "Come Azure. Come girl." Faelan rolled to her feet and trotted to his side.

"You’re not keeping it?"

"I could not save my scout today, but I can save this dog. I need to do this." He paused, caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Look at those eyes, blue as the sky on a clear day at sea. Can you think of a single reason I should not keep her?"

"Yes," Eamon nodded. "It’s a wolf."

Jane Atchley

Trapped in a world of user manuals, Jane Atchley dreamed of a life beyond technical writing. One night, over nachos and margaritas with “the great ladies,” a world of elves, pixies, and a certain red-haired cavalry captain beckoned. She and her two terriers have lived there ever since enjoying one adventure after another.

Jane is a member of Romance Writers of America and Dallas Area Romance Authors. She loves to hear from readers. Email Jane at jane@janeatchley.com

Jane gives away a $50 gift card every month. Visit her website http://www.janeatchley.com to enter for a chance to win.

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PROMO: Up in Flames

Up in Flames - PROMO Blitz

By Shyla Colt

Contemporary Romance

Date Published: March 13, 2014

  

  

The only child of a business mogul, Kirk Watford’s had his life planned for him since birth. After years of playing the field, and partying in college, the time to take his rightful place as heir of Watford Industries is at hand. His plan for one last hurrah goes awry when his plane crashes, and he finds himself stranded with an incredible woman who makes him believe in the impossible. Cut off from the world outside he discovers the man he’s always wanted to be, and what might be true love.

Liandra Powers has been an outcast her entire life. Hearing impaired, she’s grown a thick skin fighting against the ignorance of society. When she loses her hearing aids in the crash she’s forced to lean on the attractive man who makes her long for things she accepted would never happen for her. The beauty of the island and Kirk’s ability to see her and not her differences fill her with hope. Until they’re rescued and the realities of their lives rise up and began to test the foundation they laid.

EXCERPT

Liandra Powers ignored the annoying sensation of prying eyes boring into her skull. Like a moth attracted to light, people couldn’t help themselves when they saw a person who didn’t fit the conventional norms of society. No matter how stealth they tried to be, she sensed their censure. The cherry red hearing aids stood out. But, she’d long abandoned the sense of shame that came with having special needs. Without this wondrous device, she didn’t hear much more than bass, and the vaguest notion of voices. People were always embarrassed when their kids asked her about the “Thing” on her ear. In reality, she found the frankness, refreshing and preferred it to the assumptions and speculation. Being the subject of whispered conversation never felt nice. No matter how many years of training you had.

“Excuse me, miss, Can I get you something to drink?”

Liandra glanced up and shook her head at the graceful flight attendant with flaxen hair, a brilliant smile, and a model thin frame. Clad in a navy uniform and a jaunty scarf she exuded cheer.

“No, thank you.” Liandra shook her head and turned back to the window. The clouds above looked gray and ominous. Her stomach fluttered. If she could drive to a shoot she would, but Hawaii left her with no options other than air travel. Thoughts of the assignment replaced the unease with a slow simmering excitement. This is my opportunity to break through! A wedding photo shoot for a popular magazine was an achievement to be proud of. Imagery developed in her mind like film. The destination ceremony in a tropical paradise had been done a million times over. How can I make it different?

She leaned forward, dug the black book bag out from beneath the seat in front of her, unzipped the back section, and pulled out a manila envelope. A few minutes later she had the models’ photos spread out on the lowered dinner tray. They were gorgeous. With beautiful tan skin that boasted a Pacific Islander ancestry, they had piercing brown eyes, and thick black hair.

The woman, Tania, had high cheek bones, lush lips, and an average height with curves in all the right places. Her waist length curls begged for flowers…orchids. Creativity rose, dampening the irritability and discomfort she sank into previously. A playful vintage meets exotic theme began to come together. Photography had been her savior, the one thing at which she excelled. Her profession allowed her to express herself without words, and provided an escape.

She’d learned early on how harsh and unforgiving the world could be. Dark-skinned, deaf, and equipped with extra curves, there were times she felt as if there’d been a target permanently painted on her back. If she hadn’t come up in a small town in the south, things might be different.

The violent sway of the plane jerked her from her imaginings. The fasten seat belt light dinged. She quickly tidied her area and replaced her tray. Flight attendants rushed forward in the aisles, and people scrambled for their seats.

“Ladies and gentleman we are experiencing severe turbulence. We ask that you fasten your seatbelts,” the captain said over the loud speaker.

The plane dropped and cries filled the air. Liandra clenched her jaw and gripped the armrests for dear life. Her knuckles ached in protest, and her heart thudded. They plummeted, headed straight down. The overhead bins gave way. Bags fell onto the grounds. Tremendous pressure formed behind her ears, and her chest constricted. Oxygen masks dropped from above.

She reached out, grabbed the circular cup, and struggled to put it over her face as she fought against the direction gravity wanted to twist her body. She inhaled deeply, flooding her brain with the life giving substance. Panic blurred the sharp edges of her vision, and mentally clarity fled.

Her gaze darted around, taking in the stricken faces of her fellow passengers. This is where my story ends with no legacy behind me, and few to mourn. A thunderous boom sounded. Loose debris floated around the cabin. The plane began a wild death spiral. Disoriented, she saw the world in double. Pain detonated in her body as the plane connected with something solid. Her head hit the wall, and she knew no more.

Liandra opened her eyes and squinted at the light. A dull ache tapped a rhythm in her head and continued down her body. Fragments of memory rushed back. The plane crashed.

She pushed up into a sitting position and cringed. Silence. No, that couldn’t be right. She reached up to touch her hearing aid, and found nothing but the cartilage of her ear. Sound burst from her vocal chords as she cried out. She could feel the vibrations, yet, her world remained stuck on mute. How can I be rescued if I can’t hear anything?

 Fear gave her the slap on the face she needed. Focused, she took in her surroundings. White sand covered the ground beneath her feet. A canopy of tall, tropical, trees nearly blocked out the light above her. Ridiculous how idealistic this place appears, given the horror that lead us to be here. If there is an us.

She scanned the floor around her looking for the aids and came up empty. She hit her knees and sifted sand with her hands. After what felt like forever, she admitted defeat. They were gone, and if she wanted to find her way out of here, she needed to leave while she still had light. A twinge of pain brought her hand up to cover her ribs and she limped through the area, stepping over tree roots, and watching for signs of life. She proceeded forward, careful to keep a watchful eye on the brush for any sign of movement. The ground shook. She turned toward the vibrations and ran toward the source, desperate to hold on to what could be her only link to the plane and other survivors.

A heavy weight slammed into her. Iron bands held her tight. Dazed and breathless, she froze. Lifted, like she weighed nothing, she was placed onto her back. Confused, she tilted her head, and met the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. Disheveled, dirt smudged, bleeding from various niches and cuts, the man’s angular face, and fast moving thin lips were a thing of pure beauty. She shook her head, cleared out the mental cobwebs, and shoved at his chest. He yielded, scooting back to sit on his heels he pointed in the direction she’d be going.

“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you hear me yelling for you to stop? The plane is still burning and exploding,” he said.

“I can’t hear,” she said.

He cupped her face in his palms inspecting her closer. “Your ears aren’t bleeding. Maybe you were too close to the explosions. Do you hear ringing?”

Touched by his kindness she covered his hands and waited until his gaze returned to hers. “I was all ready like this before….I lost my hearing aids in the crash.”

His brow furrowed. “How are you answering me then?”

She snickered at the common question. “I read lips.”

“Oh.” His lips formed a circle.

“Mind getting off me?”

“Ye-yeah, sorry.” He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“Have you seen anyone else?” she asked.

He paused. “You’ve been the only one alive.”

Shyla Colt

Told once ‘You have to be an author, then you’re craziness becomes eccentrics’, Shyla Colt has always been in love with the written word and possessed a desire to write. Named after Super Girl in the comics, she often mistakes her mortality for super hero status. So, she holds many hats, Mother, Marine Wife, and writer are her top three. Writing allows her to explore new venues, face her demons, and touch others. A huge practitioner of paying it forward, and putting in what you want to get out, she hopes to inspire, enlighten, move, and entertain you with her work. Mixing humor, drama, and strong women, often with a paranormal element, she continues to soldier ahead in the writing field. One of her favorite things is talking to fans. If you’d like to learn more or just drop a line, please check her out at http://www.shylacolt.com. or email at sassy3134@gmail.com.

Authors Links

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Release Day: Orange Blossom

Orange Blossom - Release Blitz

By Sarah Daltry

New Adult Contemporary

Date Published: April 4, 2014

“I’ve never understood a year. A year was always a measurement of something bad for me. A year in my father’s prison sentence, a year since my mom’s death, a year left of school before I could get far, far away from here. Now, as I look down the end of my college career, with only a little more than a semester to go, a year seems like something magical. It has been a year since Lily chose me, since she sat with me on the old swing set and made a decision that I was worthy of her. And every minute of the entire year has been better than the last.”

You already know their stories: Lily, the perfect princess, always living someone else’s life. And Jack, the broken boy, who had stopped believing in hope. Somehow, though, they found each other and what was one night blossomed into a love story.

Now, a year later, Jack and Lily are dreaming of the future. Despite all of his promises to himself that he would never be indebted to anyone, Jack makes a new promise – this time to Lily – that he will be there for her forever. But when life unravels for them, he starts to pull away, and Lily worries he’s out of reach for good.

When Jack does the unthinkable, Lily is left destroyed. Is it possible to have a happily ever after? Does love ever really save anyone?

EXCERPT

He’s smiling. Not that smirk he gets when he’s bitter but also pleased about something. It’s not the smile that says that he knows happiness is temporary. When he lines up his Skee-ball shot, there is a smile on his face that is pure. Genuine. It’s like taking a step back and seeing Jack in a photograph. One from years before his life went crazy. He is just a dorky kid playing Skee-ball and he’s so happy when he nails the shot. He does an awkward little dance and it’s the kind of thing about Jack that makes me love him. He’s gorgeous and sexy and aggressive yet sweet. He’s kind and considerate of me, both sexually and in general. But I don’t love Jack for that. I love him because there is light in the world in the space he takes up. I know he doesn’t see it, but he’s inside himself. From the outside, all I see is the absolute electricity and fire that fills the air around him.

“That’s how it’s done,” he tells me when he finishes his game, wrapping up his ridiculous stack of tickets. I’m so going to lose, but I don’t care. He’s happy. I just almost wish I were better at this, so we could stay here longer, so that Jack could be this part of himself for as long as he needs.

“I think you’re perfect,” I say.

“Because I’m good at Skee-ball? Shit, that’s all it takes?”

I shake my head. “No, but you tell me all the time. I don’t think I ever say it to you. I don’t like the idea of perfection. It’s too much of a standard to live up to, but I don’t think you even understand. It’s cheesy and probably cliché, but I just can’t imagine how I could breathe without you. How did I exist before this?”

He looks down, uncomfortable because it is one thing to tell Jack he’s hot or sexy; he can handle that and he gets arrogant and ridiculous when I tell him that. However, this part of him, this vulnerability, he buries it so deep that drawing attention to it makes him want to disappear. But I don’t want that. I want him to embrace it, because it’s beautiful.

“Don’t look down,” I say and I lift his face to look at me. His eyes explode with light, the way fireworks do on New Year’s when the sky is like ink and then it’s suddenly on fire. I lean in and kiss him, feeling his hands tighten on my arms and his lips opening against mine. He’s scared. I can feel it in the way he kisses me today; he feels himself falling and he is trying to hold on and I need to figure out how to be steady enough to hold him. “Trust me,” I plead. “Let me take some of what you’re feeling. I can handle it, Jack.”

He nods. “Another day. Today, I just want to stay here, to be here with you, where it’s safe and comfortable and my entire world is this. Where strawberries and popcorn and Skee-ball and shitty plastic toys are the entirety of what exists.” He pauses. “I promise, Lily. I will. Soon. But let me hide from it. Just for a little longer?”

“Okay, but don’t hide from me, okay?” I ask.

About the Author

Sarah Daltry writes about the regular people who populate our lives. She’s written works in various genres – romance, erotica, fantasy, horror. Genre isn’t as important as telling a story about people and how their lives unfold. Sarah tends to focus on YA/NA characters but she’s been known to shake it up. Most of her stories are about relationships – romantic, familial, friendly – because love and empathy are the foundation of life. It doesn’t matter if the story is set in contemporary NY, historical Britain, or a fantasy world in the future – human beings are most interesting in the ways they interact with others. This is the principle behind all of Sarah’s stories.

Sarah has spent most of her life in school, from her BA and MA in English and writing to teaching both at the high school and college level. She also loves studying art history and really anything because learning is fun.

When Sarah isn’t writing, she tends to waste a lot of time checking Facebook for pictures of cats, shooting virtual zombies, and simply staring out the window.

The other titles in the Flowering series are Forget Me Not, Lily of the Valley, Blue Rose, and Star of Bethlehem. The final book, Ambrosia, will be out in June.

Sarah has also written Bitter Fruits, an urban fantasy romance, and Backward Compatible, a gamer geek romantic comedy.

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PROMO: It's In His Kiss

It’s In His Kiss (Six Authors, Six Vacation Romances) - Release Blitz

Contemporary Romance

Date Published: April 2, 2014

  

Going on vacation never felt so good! Six steamy stories, six sexy men to take you away from it all and sweep you off your feet. Each sweet and spicy novella is approximately 10,000 words (35 pages) and is available exclusively in this collection. Your vacation getaways include:

Ashley Blake: In “Kisses on Fire” (Amazing Love #2.5), the last thing broken-hearted Abby Hunter is looking for is a vacation romance with sexy, mysterious Zane Andrews—until she finds the courage to stop running and start healing.

Ava Claire: In “Waiting for You,” Melissa Foster’s dream getaway to Santa Cruz becomes a solo trip after her boyfriend dumps her. Who would have guessed that wealthy entrepreneur Logan Mason would be part of her vacation package?

Rosalind James: In “Just for You” (Escape to New Zealand #0.5), rugby star Hemi Ranapia meets a beautiful—and very unimpressed­—blast from his past, and finds his fishing holiday taking a most unexpected turn.

Sabrina Lacey: In “The Fall” (Throbbing Hearts #0.5), Brendan Clark receives the gift of a weekend in Mendocino to lick some romantic wounds, and discovers an older woman with a broken heart of her own.

Kimball Lee: In “Curing Charlotte” (The Surrendering Charlotte Chronicles), publishing magnate Alexander Bly hopes that an exotic vacation will help Charlotte Christiansen regain her lost memories of their love. But the real cure may be in his kiss . . .

Ellie Meade: In “The Best Man,” Maid of Honor Kayley Frost finds herself in sunny Aruba, attending a wedding she should have never agreed to. After meeting the sinfully sexy Best Man, she discovers her long-lost confidence returning—and her world being set on fire.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Ashley Blake likes to combine a good romance with steamy love scenes. Her goal is to write stories that stimulate your heart and your senses!

Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When not putting pen to paper or glued to her e-reader, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, vintage fashion, and fantasizing about her favorite book boyfriends.

Rosalind James, the author of the Amazon-bestselling “Escape to New Zealand” series and “Kincaids” series, attributes her success to the suspicion that “lots of women would like to escape to New Zealand! I know I did!”

Sabrina Lacey's writing style blend of funny and sizzling has made her first series, “I Love My . . . Romance” an Amazon best-seller, hitting number one in both erotica and women's fiction. She writes from the heart, about the heart, and for the heart.

Kimball Lee is the author of the Amazon best-selling series “The Surrendering Charlotte Chronicles,” as well as the “Temptation Road” series and “LUC: In The Age Of Copies.” She writes romantic, funny, interesting, happy, sad, thrilling, often titillating, and always thought-provoking books that pack a lot of good reading into just the right number of pages, while leaving out the “boring parts”!

Ellie Meade is a wife and a mother of three rambunctious children. Her active imagination and passion for love stories inspire her to write sexy, edgy, and enthralling romance novels.

PROMO: Summoned

Summoned - Week Blitz

By Rainy Kaye

Paranormal Romance

Date Published: 3/28/2014

  

  

Twenty-three year old Dimitri has to do what he is told—literally. Controlled by a paranormal bond, he is forced to use his wits to fulfill unlimited deadly wishes made by multimillionaire Karl Walker.

Dimitri has no idea how his family line became trapped in the genie bond. He just knows resisting has never ended well. When he meets Syd—assertive, sexy, intelligent Syd—he becomes determined to make her his own. Except Karl has ensured Dimitri can't tell anyone about the bond, and Syd isn't the type to tolerate secrets.

Then Karl starts sending him away on back-to-back wishes. Unable to balance love and lies, Dimitri sets out to uncover Karl's ultimate plan and put it to an end. But doing so forces him to confront the one wish he never saw coming—the wish that will destroy him.

Summoned is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.

http://www.summonedtheseries.com  & http://www.facebook.com/summonedtheseries

EXCERPT

I dislike having to murder someone. Kidnapping is worse. At least when I setup a kill, I know what's coming. No connections, no honesty, no surprises. Everything I say and do are just steps to luring in my victim. Once the victim falls right into the trap, the next move is swift: crushed windpipe, fatal concussion, or a good ol' fashioned headshot.

            Kidnapping, on the other hand, is a little trickier. First, the victim has an opportunity to respond. I don't like this. Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they manage to alert the authorities. And sometimes they escape, usually by inflicting bodily harm on me.

            Dead people don't retaliate. Kidnapped ones, well, they're a little more . . . lively.

            The second major difference between killing and kidnapping is my conscience. I get in and out with a kill. We have no chance to bond.

            Abductees require a little more one-on-one. As much as I try to keep the switch turned off, I can't help but listen to their pleas and demands. And I usually realize I'm a jerk.

            That's exactly where I find myself one late afternoon in June. I prefer doing this at night, but moreover, I would prefer not doing this at all.

            Instead, I have a belligerent nine year old girl sitting in the passenger seat of my Honda Accord, shackles on her wrists and ankles and a small stuffed bunny on her lap. She's eying me in a way that makes me self-conscious. Like I'm the bad guy.

            Probably because I am the bad guy.

Rainy Kaye Links

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GIVEAWAY

2 $50 Amazon gift cards.

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PROMO: Priceless

Priceless - PROMO Blitz

Shannon Mayer

Urban Fantasy Romance

Date Published: November 2012

"My name is Rylee, and I am a Tracker."

When children go missing, and the Humans have no leads, I'm the one they call. I am their last hope in bringing home the lost ones. I salvage what they cannot.

I'm on the FBI's wanted list. I have a werewolf for a pet, a Witch of a best friend, and I have no need for anyone else in my life.

But when a salvage starts to spin out of control, help comes from a most unexpected direction. One that is dangerously dark, brooding, and doesn't know a thing about the supernatural.

One whose kisses set me on fire.

Shannon Mayer

Shannon Mayer lives in the southwestern tip of Canada with her husband, dog, cats, horse, and cows. When not writing she spends her time staring at immense amounts of rain, herding old people (similar to herding cats) and attempting to stay out of trouble. Especially that last is difficult for her.

She is the author of the The Rylee Adamson Novels, The Nevermore Trilogy, A Celtic Legacy series and several contemporary romances.  Please visit her website at http://www.shannonmayer.com  for more information on her novels.

Author Links
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Buy Link for PRICELESS

Amazon

Links to other books in Series

Immune (The Rylee Adamson Novels, Book 2)

Raising Innocence (The Rylee Adamson Novels, Book 3)  

Shadowed Threads ( The Raylee Adamson Novels, Book 4)

Blind Salvage (The Rylee Adamson Novels, Book 5)

Tracker (The Rylee Adamson Novels, Book 6)

Alex (A Rylee Adamsoin Short Story)

Giveaway

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