Monday, April 24, 2017

Sonnet Coupled by Roxanne D. Howard






Sonnet Coupled
Roxanne D. Howard

Genre: New Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, Multicultural, Interracial

Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group

Date of Publication: April 25, 2017

Number of pages: 227
Word Count: 65,864

Cover Artist: Boroughs Publishing Group

Tagline:ER nurse Sonnet Mendoza's new housemate Griffith Parker proves there is more to a man than meets the eye, and shows her there's more to life than just her career.

Book Description:
ALWAYS FAITHFUL

Sheltered and cosseted, Sonnet Mendoza abided by her papi’s wishes her whole life: no boys, studies first and always. Now an ER nurse in a busy Chicago hospital, medical school is so close Sonnet can taste it—just like her father always wanted. Just like she can she can taste all the things she wants, like Griffith Parker, the man of her dreams and her new housemate.

Working “graves” in a large hospital as a security guard while attending the police academy during the day doesn’t leave ex-Marine Griffith Parker any personal time, but after meeting the beautiful Sonnet Mendoza business as usual is anything but. Sassy, smart…and interested in him, too? Except, she’s made an art of keeping her distance, and she's been clear that her plans don't include him. 

But the heart wants what the heart wants. His wants Sonnet. He’ll put it on the line to win her.


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Excerpt 2 (NSFW)
            Sonnet put water in the K-Carafe and listened to the hiss and gurgle of the brew as she got some organic eggs and soy milk out to scramble. She decided to make Griffith breakfast, too, even if it had to wait for him in the fridge. It was nice to have someone to look after again.
            Hell, after yesterday, he deserved it. She knew she shouldn’t entertain starting something with him with medical school on the horizon, but after spending time with him, a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and she was ready to start fresh and tackle her workweek. She sang a little, opened the fridge, and bent to retrieve the bacon from the bottom shelf. A sharp intake of breath filled the silence from a few feet away.
            From under her arm she saw Griff, half naked in black sweat bottoms with the Police Academy logo. Her eyes drifted to the hard planes of his abs, a sculpted eight pack most men would give their left nut for. His stacked chest rose and fell, and his fists clenched. Like a current in the air, she could feel him trying to keep it together.
            Her gaze trailed past his ribs and flat stomach, down the sharp V of his hip flexors, to the promise of what lay beneath.
            Finally, her brain kicked in and she realized her bikini thong was on display with the globes of her ass cheeks parted and raised in the air, like she was waiting for him to grab hold and ride. Her hair chose the wrong moment to slide over her shoulder and into her face, and he let out a strangled moan.
            Oh, God.
            She stood and yanked the hem of her shirt down. “Jeez, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you were up. I was just about to make breakfast before I got changed.”
            He gulped. Her eyes flicked to the hardened bulge of his cock, which tented against his sweats. He looked like he wanted to devour her. “I…need to use the bathroom,” he growled tightly, then marched down the hall and slammed the bathroom door.
            She looked at the exposed bottom half of her panties, and rolled her eyes. “Great, Sonnet. Just great.” She turned off the stove, abandoned the breakfast food, and made her way to her bedroom. A stifled moan escaped from behind the closed bathroom door as she passed, and stopped her in her tracks.
            In any other circumstance she wouldn’t give it a second thought—people moaned all the time because they were tired or relieved—but she listened. It was a certain kind of moan, one she made the first night she’d met him when she touched herself.
            She heard a distinctive rhythmic thwacking of flesh upon flesh, a series of muffled pants, a grunt, and soft thud against the wall, and her pussy throbbed. She clenched her thighs together and put her palm over her mouth.




About the Author:

Roxanne D. Howard is a U.S. Army veteran who has a bachelor's degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. Also, she is an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and marine biology geek. Roxanne resides in the western U.S., and when she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and children. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.




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Friday, April 21, 2017

The Ghosts of My Lai by JC Braswell




The Ghosts of My Lai
JC Braswell

Genre: Supernatural Thriller

Publisher: Magothy Publishing

Date of Publication: April 20, 2017

ISBN: 0-9979909-3-5 (Paperback)
ISBN: 0-9979909-2-9 (eBook)
 ASIN: B06XNVPB2P

Number of pages: 264
Word Count: 89,700

Cover Artist: Marcy Arnold

Book Description:

Lieutenant Chris Williams and his platoon flee My Lai—the site of an unfathomable massacre during the Vietnam War—only to have their helicopter shot down over unchartered jungle. Disoriented and separated from the outside world, Williams faces the unenviable task of navigating the waylaid band of survivors to safety. But Vietnam has other plans…

Fear begins to trump logic. Specters of the assault call for them during the jungle nights. The escape mission descends in to mutiny as they discover an unknown threat unlike the Viet Cong hunts them from within the primitive environment.

Williams soon realizes that survival is not possible without first confronting the ghosts of My Lai…and the sins of their past.


Excerpt:

“So what’s the plan now, LT?” Simmons moved his arms in a repetitive semicircle manner like he was making a snow angel in the leaves. “We just going to sit here and wait for the jungle to take us? Or do you think we’ll just die from boredom and exhaustion?”
“Quiet, Simmons,” Garcia said.
“We keep going.” He didn’t want to let them know that they might be stalked by a tiger, which would only cause more panic in the group.
“I guess there’s only one answer right now,” Donovan said, resting back on his elbows.
“What’s that?” Harris asked.
“We’re screwed.” Donovan could summon a smile even in the direst of situations, thrusting his hips in the air. “We’re completely and totally screwed. No chance at all.”
“Please don’t say that,” Harris’s voice cracked.
“Donovan, seriously? Why do you have to go on and say something stupid like that?” Jackson nudged Donovan’s thigh. “You’re gonna scare the kid.”
“’Cause it’s true. He’s right.” McEvoy smacked the back of his neck, smashing some insect guts into his skin. “Look at us. Nobody wants to say it, but we’re lost. No map. A useless compass. Not much food. Lost. And don’t get me started on these bugs.” McEvoy slapped the back of his head again, this time catching the bug and causing it to pop like a balloon. McEvoy gagged as he looked at his palm before wiping it across his thigh.
“They sure seem to like you,” Simmons said. “Must have some of that sweet boy blood.”
“Why do you have to start when I’m worrying over here? And I don’t have any sweet boy blood.”
“Enough. No more talk of death,” Williams said, tossing one of the river pebbles he kept in his pocket at McEvoy. “No more talk of anything. We take a short sleep and get going.”
“If you say so, boss.” McEvoy squirmed as the rock plunked him on the shoulder.
“What I wouldn’t give to listen to a little Doors right now. Just fade away with it all.” Donovan looked up at the stars. “Seems appropriate to die while listening to some good music
“How’s the injury?” Garcia dropped to one knee and went to untie Williams’s makeshift compression bandage. “I’m not sure how many we of these left. Maybe one.”
“Shouldn’t I ask how your shoulder is doing?”
“No need to worry about something small like that,” Garcia responded. “I’m not the one with a rotting leg.”
“Since you put it so gently.”
“You said it yourself. Might as well be honest. We’re just a sideshow.”
“Touché.” Williams knew there was reason to be concerned. He could smell the infection from three feet away: rotting eggs. Based on Garcia’s tempered reaction, it could only be getting worse.
“Hey, what about the radio? We’re on higher ground. Might be worth giving it another shot.” Harris, with his naïve youthfulness, held on to a simple hope.
“Go for it. Not like it’s going to hurt,” Williams answered, drifting back to the memories in his mind. Seagulls cawed from around Annapolis harbor, the zip of a fishing line pulled as a fish splashed on the surface. It was only a pipedream.
“It ain’t even turning on,” McEvoy said. He clicked the switch a few times, relying on a miracle that would not happen.
“Oh, come on,” Harris whined. He slapped the radio a few times—the old magic trick never quite worked out for anyone with experience in electronics.
“Relax, guys. That things as useless as both of you.” Donovan said, drumming his fingers along the ground to the beat of whatever Doors song played in his head.
“Wait. Think I got something.” McEvoy’s words called their attention. The radio whined as McEvoy adjusted the knob until a muffled song broke through the static.
“What’s that?” Jackson asked, leaning in as if he could listen better.
“I don’t…I don’t know.” McEvoy honed in on the signal until a distinct muffled chant emerged. The small troupe stared at each other, a mixture of confusion and disbelief as the unknown words captivated them.
“It can’t be,” Donovan said.
“Maybe some local station?” Harris asked.
The chanting grew more distinct with little melody to the deliberate words.
“A local station…out here? No damned way.” Williams said, noticing the VC perking his head up with a glaze covering his face. It was as if the chanting signaled the VC to wake.
“These people have some weird tastes,” Jackson said.
The troupe gathered closer, exchanging glances between each other and the radio. The lights flickered with the strength of the foreign words, the dials shifting back and forth.
“You recognize any of this?” Williams looked at McEvoy.
“I…no. It’s…too old. An older dialect.” McEvoy shrugged.
The chanting intensified, the chorus of foreign words almost shouting. The treetops around them rustled as a stiff breeze suddenly rolled across their makeshift camp. Williams looked back at their VC prisoner, who remained silent, transfixed by the radio’s signal.
“This ain’t right. None of this is right.” Harris withdrew from the contraption.
“Hold on to yourself,” Donovan said. “Nothing we can do.”
Louder. Faster. The radio shuddered with the strength of the signal.
“Turn if off. Turn it off,” Garcia demanded.
The VC’s lips started to move, almost in unison with the chanting, but he did not make a sound.
“I’m trying.” McEvoy twisted the dials, but the radio refused to obey.
Its housing crackled then sparked, causing McEvoy’s arm to snap back. The sharp smell of burnt rubber and metal poured out of the case. Then, with a pop and brilliant flash, the radio went silent, its light fading to black. The VC then dropped his head in concert with the chanting as it came to an abrupt halt.
“Jesus,” McEvoy said, blowing on his finger.

“El Diablo,” Garcia muttered in a voice low enough for only Williams to hear.

About the Author:

A fan of Lewis, Hemingway and Tolkien, author JC Braswell writes in a few different genres including Thriller, Horror, Sci-Fi, and Young Adult.

In addition to writing JC is a practicing attorney specializing in estate planning and corporate law, he is the recipient of the American Health Lawyers Association award for his legal writing.

JC makes his home along the Chesapeake Bay with his wife and two children.

You can visit his website at www.jcbraswell.com  and check out his podcasts at www.freestateradio.com

Author website: http://www.jcbraswell.com


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Thursday, April 20, 2017

Cover Reveal Sevyn by Renee Dyer



Sevyn
Renee Dyer

Genre: Thriller/ Romantic Suspense/
Dark Romance

Publisher: Forever Red Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-941853-39-9

Number of pages: 300

Cover Artist: Lee Ching from Under Cover Designs

Tagline: When life hands you impossible choices, can you become the man you want to be?

Book Description:

Born into rival drug cartels, Kevyn Zozlov and his best friend Esperanza Torres defy the odds, finding laughter in a world full of pain. Ripped away from her at a young age, Kevyn has to learn the difference between family, loyalty, and obedience. Fear keeps him focused each day. Memories fill his dreams at night.

Torn between the death he sees daily and what he believes is right, he struggles to decide the kind of man he wants to be—until a promise he makes to his mother, the person he loves more than anyone, changes everything.

“Get out of here and find Esperanza. Promise me.”

Now, Kevyn has to figure out how to make his way to the only friend he ever had—the one person who understands his damaged world. Will she welcome him back with open arms, or turn him away, leaving him more lost than he already is?

With time against him, can he find Esperanza and his happiness, or will he be another casualty of the drug war, buried in an unmarked grave with no one to mourn his loss?



About the Author:

From a young Renee Dyer had a love of writing, starting with a doodle pad at age four that morphed into journals.  Poetry became short stories and short stories a novel.  Although she’s surrounded by males all day having three sons, a husband, and a hyperactive chocolate lab, she still finds time to be herself by escaping into the fantasy of reading and writing romance.  That is, until she needs a male’s perspective and garners eye rolling from her husband at all of her questions.  Renee is a true New Englander.  You can find her screaming profanity at the TV while the Pats play and cuddling under blankets during the cold seasons (which is most of them), reading a good book.  She doesn’t believe snow is a reason to shut things down, only to slow down and admire the beauty.  Ask her anything.  She’s an open book—pun fully intended.


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Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Free Book Blitz The Sun God’s Heir: Return by Elliott Baker






The Sun God’s Heir: Return
The Sun God’s Heir
Book One
Elliott Baker        

Genre: Historical Fantasy/Action and Adventure

Publisher: Hypatia Press,
Piscataqua Press

Date of Publication: January 18, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-9978322-0-4
ASIN: B01MS3RCE0

Number of pages: 347
Word Count: 108,000

Cover Artist: Kelly Shorten

Tagline: To defeat a brutal pharaoh re-embodied in 17th century France, René Gilbert must fight his way through pirates and slavers to Morocco and reclaim the power of his own ancient past. To succeed, he must remember.

Book Description:

For three thousand years a hatred burns -In seventeenth century France two souls incarnate, one born the child of a prosperous merchant, the other, determined to continue a brutal incarnation begun long ago.

In ancient Egypt two brothers are disciples of the pharaoh, Akhenaten. When Pharaoh dies, the physician takes the knowledge given and goes to Greece to begin a new mystery school. The general makes a deal with the priests and becomes pharaoh. One remembers, one does not.

The year is 1671. René Gilbert’s destiny glints from the blade of a slashing rapier. The only way he can protect those he loves is to regain the power and knowledge of an ancient lifetime. From Bordeaux to Spain to Morocco, René is tested and with each turn of fate he gathers enemies and allies, slowly reclaiming the knowledge and power earned centuries ago. For three thousand years a secret sect has waited in Morocco. 

After ages in darkness, Horemheb screams, “I am.” Using every dark art, he manages to maintain the life of the body he has bartered for. Only one life force in the world is powerful enough to allow him to remain within embodiment, perhaps forever. Determined to continue a reign of terror that once made the Nile run red, he grows stronger with each life taken.




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Excerpt:

The boatswain, a large man with scars on his arms and face, walked over to stand in front of René. “Chain him to the mast.”
Their gazes met.
“Don’t look at me, boy,” he said, backhanding René in the face. “Look down at the deck when I talk to you. You’re some over-fed nobleman’s kid thinkin’ you make the rules. I’m surprised you ain’t cryin’ for your mama. You got a mama, boy?” he asked and laughed. When René didn’t answer, he hit him again. “I asked you a question, boy. Don’t try my patience, cause I ain’t got none.”
“My mother died when I was born,” René said, watching the man’s feet to see how he moved. He was cataloging everything he could see out of the corners of his eyes.
“Well, not to worry, you’ll be seeing her soon.” The boatswain turned to walk away and then turned back and hit René again. “I had to do that,” he said, and walked away laughing.
Though they had chained him in a way that didn’t allow him to sit, René had enough slack to turn and see most of the ship. He was aboard an English slave ship. She was an older carrack in design, still with the large forecastle. She had seen better days, though. The fact that she was still on the seas suggested either a cutthroat reputation or an experienced captain. Under the wear, the ship was surprisingly clean, her ropes and sails newly repaired and in good order. Second rate though she might be, she was seaworthy. This was a veteran crew, competent in their tasks. It wouldn’t be easy getting free, and even if he could, where would he escape to in the middle of  the ocean? Don’t rush fate. One thing at a time. Do what you can do, he heard the Maestro say. It was clear he would have to pick a fight, and hope he could survive long enough to begin creating allies. The next time the big boatswain walked by, René laughed.
“What are you findin’ so funny, boy?” The boatswain stuck his face within inches of René’s.
René had noticed the boatswain had one leg shorter than the other, and was certain the big man would be touchy on that point. “You walk funny, that’s all,” said René, raising his voice. It was of no use to him if he got beat up and no one knew why.
All work within the sound of René’s voice crashed to a complete stop. Silence reigned. René had guessed right. Now he could only hope he would survive his insight.
The boatswain stood in absolute disbelief, his face turning redder by the moment. “What did you say?” Spittle flew from his mouth.
Even the captain had turned to watch. René counted on the fact Gaspard’s agent had given the captain a great deal of money, along with explicit instructions that didn’t include throwing a dead boy overboard. What he didn’t know was how close to dead the agent considered acceptable.
“I said you walk funny,” René said—louder this time, so there would be no mistaking it.
“Do you know what a cat is, boy?” the boatswain said, clearly beyond rational thought. René could see the veins standing out in his neck and temples, his eyes shot red with blood.
“A small animal?” René asked.
There was a laugh from the men standing around the mast. The boatswain took one look around, and the laugh died.
“You, James, bring me the cat. I don’t think this boy has ever seen a real one. Your education has been sadly incomplete, boy. You’ll be thankin’ me for this. I promise you.” The boatswain’s voice was a rough whisper.
James walked over and handed the Cat-O-Nine-Tails to the boatswain. As he caught René’s eye, he sadly shook his head. The cat had nine long thongs of blood-encrusted leather dangling from a handle, knots tied along the length of each thong.
“This here’s a cat, boy. As you can see, it ain’t no small animal. Now, there’s a skill and a talent to usin’ a cat, both of which I’m proud to say I have. You see, you need to take care the thongs don’t get all stuck together with blood and skin, which they’re wont to do. If that happens, the cat’ll take yer organs right out, and that’s always a bad thing. So you need to run your fingers between the thongs every couple of strokes, to keep ‘em separate. I gotta tell you—as much pride as I take in usin’ the cat, sometimes I’m forgetful. I try to keep count, but before I know it, I plumb forget to clean the damn thing. I surely hope that don’t happen today.”
“I also have a skill and a talent, and I will kill you with it,” René said quietly.

For one second, the boatswain paused, confusion written across his face. “Turn him around, and chain him up. You there, strip off his shirt.”

About the Author:

Award winning novelist and international playwright Elliott Baker grew up in Jacksonville, Florida. With four musicals and one play published and produced in the United States, New Zealand, Portugal, England, and Canada, Elliott is pleased to release his first novels. The Sun God’s Heir: Return, book one of the trilogy, was released this past January, and book two, Rebirth will come out in April, followed in July by the third and final book of the series, Redemption. A member of the Authors Guild and the Dramatists Guild, Elliott lives in New Hampshire with his wife Sally Ann.



@elliottbaker on Twitter

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Release Day Blitz Beneath the Night by Jen Colly





Beneath the Night
The Cities Below
Book Three
Jen Colly

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Kensington/Lyrical

Date of Publication:  April 18, 2017

ISBN: 9781516101481
ASIN: B01JEJDHFM

Number of pages: 200
Word Count: 71,000

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Tagline: Sometimes survival means surrendering everything . . .

Book Description:

Lord Navarre Casteel wakes from a long sleep to find the vampire city he rules forever changed and his future in the hands of a mysterious beauty who offers her life for his. Fiery-haired Cat survives his feeding, fueling Navarre's body and mind-as well as his suspicion that she is one of the Forbidden-a lethal mix of vampire and human blood. Yet that doesn't stop the throb of Navarre's desire, the feeling that she is destined to be his mate, to hell with consequences. . . .

A solitary fighter sworn to protect the children in her charge, Cat never expects to feel so much for Navarre in the face of his savage feeding. Which is why his offer of protection is nearly her undoing. For how can she let down her guard when she has always walked alone? But Cat has never faced an enemy like the one she faces now, never felt such a powerful need to surrender to the force of love . . .

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Excerpt:

This was the royal storage, and the Guardians would be here any moment. Treasures from all over Europe had been covered, hidden from view, while others lay exposed, collecting layers of dust. A gold, jewel-encrusted urn half the size of a man glinted in the dim light seeping from beneath the door. A golden yellow chaise in Greek styling was half hidden beneath a sheet, the craftsmanship elaborate. Yes, Savard grew nervous when Guardians were scheduled to enter this room, but theft was not his fear, nor was the handling of such priceless artifacts.
He’d have given his life to protect what was beyond the row of five large French curio cabinets in the corner of the attic. Savard slipped into Spirit long enough to move through a curio, and once inside the makeshift seclusion, returned to his true form. Here, easily hidden behind the towering cabinets, was the most priceless treasure in Balinese.
Navarre Casteel, the true lord of Balinese, lay motionless on a small bed, trapped in a deep healing sleep. Not waking, not dying.
Navarre had fallen in the demon attack nearly seven years ago. A demon’s blade had pierced his chest, and from what they could tell, nicked his heart. Navarre had slipped into a healing sleep, his body shutting down to repair from the inside out. After that point, nothing could be done to help him. Their lord would have to heal on his own, or not at all.
Every day since, Savard expected his lord’s death, even planned for the loss. It never happened. Months had passed. Years. Seven years of total stillness.
The padlock outside the door rattled, the heavy hinge laid back against the door. Then the large wooden slide latch was moved, wood scraping wood, until the handle hit the end of its range with a solid thud.
Savard knelt beside the bed and took his lord’s lifeless hand in both of his, ready to weather the brief intrusion, prepared to Spirit Navarre away should it become necessary.
The hinges on the thick door creaked as it opened. The Guardians stepped inside, flipped on the lights. Boots scuffed the uneven floorboards beneath their feet, and long, purposeful strides quickly carried them deeper inside the room.
“There it is,” Dyre said, his young, smooth voice trapped in the low ceiling of the attic. “It doesn’t appear heavy, only awkward.”
“Why are we putting an empty birdcage outside the dining hall?” Cat said, suspicion bleeding through her tone.
The presence of these two was unexpected. As arena Guardians, Titus and Graydon often drew the short straw, being sent on random missions that sometimes involved moving furniture. Not today. Somehow Dyre and Cat had taken their place.
“Don’t ask, just do,” Dyre said.
“Ugh.” She exaggerated the guttural sound. “I hate your motto. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not my motto,” Dyre said, the effort of sliding wooden furniture across the floor temporarily halting his speech. “And you seem to like it just fine when you’re the one barking orders.”
“Fair enough,” she said, relenting.
Savard smiled slightly, shaking his head. In public those two barely spoke a word to each other, and after the parade of Guardian partners Cat had gone through, he never would have thought Dyre would be the one she’d accept. But then, Dyre was one of the few able to bring her unpredictable temper down to at least a simmer.
“Here, take this end,” Dyre directed. “I’ll go down the stairs backward.”
“You think I can’t go backward?” Cat snapped at him, instantly geared up for a fight, offended her partner might find her lacking.
“No,” he said calmly, his tone hinting at simple honesty. “I think you’re short.”
If Cat gave him a response, Savard didn’t hear it. Boots scuffled across the floor, the lights went out and the door closed, the bolt slid home, and the padlock clunked into place. The room was left in silence once again. Savard peeked through a crack between the dressers to make certain they’d left.
Turning Navarre’s hand over, Savard pressed his fingertips to his lord’s exposed inner wrist. As he did with each visit, Savard searched for a pulse, craved confirmation that Navarre still lived. Beneath his fingers, the normally slow, lurching rhythm of Navarre’s pulse seemed to have sped up. Not rapid or racing, but simply stronger. This could be his body’s last surge of energy before death. Savard looked at Navarre’s face, fearing it might be the last time.
Navarre, still deep in a healing sleep, turned his face slightly toward the door. He wasn’t dying. He was waking.
“Oh, God. It’s her.” Jaw slack, Savard sank back onto his heels.
He shoved his hair off his face. How had he not seen this connection? When Cat had first arrived on the night of the attack, he hadn’t known what to do with her. He’d put her in one of Navarre’s extra homes. That home was on the floor beneath this attic, not terribly far from where Navarre lay sleeping.
Most vampires could recognize the beckoning call of their fated mate. Supposedly, though he’d never seen it happen, the presence of your mate could even negate the deadly call of the sun. Her proximity was most likely the only reason Navarre still clung to life. Cat must be his mate. If so, then she was the key to Navarre’s awakening. Ironically, her continued presence in the city was contingent upon Navarre allowing her to stay once he woke.
Plans quickly took form now that Savard at long last had a clear solution. If Navarre’s condition was going to change, it would happen tonight. He would make it happen tonight.

While this new development should bring elation, Savard’s skin crawled with a morbid anticipation. Something unstoppable was happening in the world around him, a life-altering force headed his way. He’d felt this same unease the night he’d become lord, an awareness that he balanced at the top of a mountain and would soon fall. He just didn’t know in which direction.

About the Author:

Jen Colly is the rare case of an author who rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years. Now she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing her first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are pirates and vampires.

She lives in Ohio with her supportive husband, two kids, one big fluffy dog, and four rescued cats.







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Cover Reveal Fiskur by Donna Migliaccio



Fiskur
The Gemeta Stone
Book 2
Donna Migliaccio

Release Date: November 2017

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: Fiery Seas

Book Description:

With his family's talisman in his possession, Kristan Gemeta is ready to face the Wichelord Daazna – but he has no inkling of the scope of Daazna's power, nor the depths of his hatred.    

With the recovery of his family's protective talisman, Kristan Gemeta has found hope, courage – and perhaps even the first stirrings of love.  With the aid of Heather Demitt, her band of rebels, a shipload of Northern brigands and the legendary Kentavron, he readies himself to face the Wichelord Daazna.  But neither he nor his comrades realize the strength of Daazna's power and hatred.  The Wichelord's first blow comes from a direction Kristan least expects, with horrific, lasting consequences.



About the Author:

Donna Migliaccio is a professional stage actress with credits that include Broadway, National Tours and prominent regional theatres.  She is based in the Washington, DC Metro area, where she co-founded Tony award-winning Signature Theatre and is in demand as an entertainer, teacher and public speaker.  Her award-winning short story, "Yaa and The Coffins," was featured in Thinkerbeat's 2015 anthology The Art of Losing.