ponedjeljak, 29. kolovoza 2016.

Release Day Blitz: The Debt by Karina Halle + Excerpt

  


     the debt 0 days (1) 

The Debt AMAZON   Her life changed in an instant. And he's the only one who could have prevented it. 

From the New York Times bestselling author of The Pact and The Lie comes a new standalone contemporary romance about those McGregor men.

Jessica Charles shouldn't have even been in London when the unthinkable happened. She should have been back at home in Edinburgh, perhaps hanging with her boyfriend, having drinks with her sister or doing yoga with her group of friends. She should have been going on in her normal, dependable life as always. But on that fateful day in August, when a mentally-ill ex-soldier opened fire in public, Jessica's world changed forever. Now single and crippled from the gunshot wounds, Jessica finds herself scared and alone, losing faith in herself and humanity with each agonizing moment that passes. That is until a stranger enters her life. A stranger who makes her live again. Keir McGregor has always been the strong, silent type. Throw in tall, dark, and handsome and you've got pretty much the perfect Scotsman. Except Keir is anything but perfect. He's got a past he's running away from and a guilty conscience he can't seem to shed. But the more time he spends with Jessica, the more he falls in love with her. And the more his secret threatens to tear them apart. He may have been a stranger to her. But she’s never been a stranger to him.    


iBooks | Kindle | Kobo | Nook

thedectteaser2

  
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says. “Sit. I’ll get you another drink.”   “It’s getting late,” I say feebly but I sit down anyway, my leg giving a protest of pain.   “You need something for that?” he says, noticing my wince.   “The scotch will do fine,” I tell him quickly, not wanting him to make a fuss. “But really, I should go.”   “Why?” he asks from the kitchen. I hear the top pop off the bottle, the slosh of liquid in the glass. “Where do you have to be?”   I have to think about that for a moment. He comes over and holds out the glass. “I won’t keep you here if you don’t want to be here. But if you do want to be here, you don’t need to make any excuses.”   I take the glass from him, holding it delicately in my fingers. He stands over me, a massive wall, waiting for some kind of response.   “I just…” I begin. “I…” I take a sip for bravery. Swallow. “I’m not very good at this.”   “Good at what?”   “At…this. Being with a man.”   When he doesn’t say anything to that, I look up at him. He’s got a peculiar smile on his face, his brows raised. “You call this being with a man?”   I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks grow hot. “I mean. I’ve told you before –”   “Yes, how you don’t do relationships, how you don’t do sex.”   “I never said I don’t do sex,” I remind him quickly.   His eyes never stop searching my face. “Then what is it? What are you afraid to say?”   I have the sudden urge to flee and I know it must show because he suddenly points at me and says, “Don’t you dare say you have to go again. I want you to go back to what you said, that you’re not good at this. What is this? Us? You and me? There’s nothing mystifying about you and me, Jessica. You know quite well how I feel.”   I stare at him in shock. I do? “How?”   He looks off with an air of impatience. “I invited you to dinner, you turned me down.”   “But then you said just as friends.”   “And I meant it. But there are different types of friends. It’s up to you to decide what kind we are.”   I put my drink down with a clunk. “Holy pressure.” And now it’s not just my face going hot but my entire body, flushed from head to toe.   “You’re on fire, little red,” he says, his gaze skirting over my limbs in such a hungry way I can almost feel them on my skin. “I have to say, I like this look on you. Hot and bothered.”   “Back with the innuendos again,” I comment but my voice is weak.   “No, no innuendos this time. You came looking for me tonight not because you wanted to confess but because you want something from me. What is it? What do you want from me? What do you think I can give you?”   Jesus. This is so utterly unnerving. His words slice right through me, his eyes still peeling under the layers, trying to get at something I’m not even sure of myself.   If I lie, he’ll know. I can only be honest with him.   “I want…” I take in a deep breath, my eyes breaking away. “I want…company.”   “Company?” He sounds surprised.   I nod. “That’s the truth. I’m lonely. And I’m afraid. And I’m tired of being both those things. I want to be with someone who makes me forget who I am. You make me feel fearless in a way I didn’t think possible.”   There. That’s the truth. Most of it. It hangs in the air, thickening the tension like flour to stock.   He sits down next to me, has a mouthful of Scotch. “Wow,” he says, running his hand over the beard on his jaw. “And here I was thinking you wanted my cock.”   I burst out laughing. So does he, a big wonderful bellow. The tension in the room eases up a notch.   “Sorry,” I tell him when I catch my breath. “I guess they can both mean the same thing.”   He sucks in his lip briefly, his eyes taking a lustful turn. “If you want it to.” We stare at each other for a few heavy beats. Then his focus trails back to my gaze and he says, “Why don’t you stay over?”   And there I have it. The chance to know what those full lips would feel like on mine, what his skin would taste like. I swallow hard.             The Debt 2          

Halle Headshot  Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Racing the Sun, Sins & Needles and over 25 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books. Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK. Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more. FACEBOOK TWITTER GOODREADS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE


četvrtak, 4. kolovoza 2016.

Teaser Excerpt Blitz: FURIOUS RUSH by S.C. Stephens + Giveaway



Title: FURIOUS RUSH

Author: S.C. Stephens

On Sale: August 23, 2016

Publisher: Forever

Format: Trade Paperback & eBook

Price: $12.99 USD (TP) / $4.99 USD (eBook)




The first in an emotion-fueled, New Adult series from the #1 bestselling author of the Thoughtless novels!

Too fast, too furious—and way too hot to handle… 


Mackenzie Cox has a lot to prove. Daughter of a racing legend, she is eager to show the world that she has inherited her father's talent in the male-dominated sport of professional motorcycle racing. The last thing Kenzie needs is to be antagonized by her rival team's newest rider, Hayden Hayes. Plucked from the world of illegal street racing, Hayden immediately gets under Kenzie's skin. His insinuations that Kenzie is a spoiled princess who was handed her career fuels her desire to win, and much to her surprise, Kenzie soon learns she performs better when she's racing against Hayden.


As Kenzie and Hayden push each other on the track, the electric energy between them off the track shifts into an intense—and strictly forbidden—attraction. The only rule between their two ultra-competitive teams is zero contact. Kenzie always does her best to play by the rules, but when her team slips into a financial crisis, she has no choice but to turn to Hayden for help. The tension simmers during their secret, late-night rendezvous, but Kenzie has too much to lose to give in to her desires. Especially when she begins to doubt that Hayden has completely left his street life behind...


PREORDER THE BOOK HERE










EXCERPT:


Honda Boy was holding his helmet under an arm while he flirted with the girls surrounding him. He was blond, with a short, shaggy hairstyle that probably took a lot more effort to create than it looked like. I could tell from the way the girls around him were tittering like teenagers that he was charming; with seemingly little effort on his part, he had all of them eating out of his hand. When a break in the crowd gave me a clear view of his face, I realized another thing: He was smokin’, someone-hold-on-to-my-ovaries- before-they-explode hot.

There was a perfect symmetry to his rugged features that made it seem unreal that he was standing just a few feet away from me. He should be plastered on a billboard somewhere, half-naked, selling overpriced cologne to men who wanted just a fraction of his sex appeal. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he turned his gaze my way. Our eyes met and locked, and I was helpless to turn away. There was something carnal about him, primal and dangerous. Exotic. I was instantly captivated, and I hated that I was. This guy was neck-deep in a world that twisted my stomach, a world that spat in the face of my sport. My career.

As his light-colored eyes bored holes into mine, one edge of his lip curved up in a devilish crooked grin that was both playful and promising. He was practically shouting, with just that one deadly smile, that he would satisfy my every desire, satiate every craving I could possibly have. My heart started thudding in my chest as sensations that had been dormant for far too long swirled to life in- side me. Luckily for me, the big man taking the guy’s bets clapped him on the shoulder, breaking our stare down. Once I was free of his steamy gaze, I instantly turned around so my back was to him. Jesus, was I breathing harder? Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. I was twenty-two, not twelve.

“Damn,” I heard Nikki say. “You were right. I should have bet on him from the get-go. I didn’t really get a good look at him before, but he is freaking hot!”

Inhaling a deep breath, I attempted to force my body back in line with my brain. “This guy is undefeated?” I asked Nikki. “Really?” She nodded in answer and I had to close my eyes for a second. A face like that with racing skills to boot? Jesus.

Clearing my throat, I nonchalantly asked, “What did you say his name was again?” I could at least label the guy in the fantasy I was surely going to have later.

“Hayden... something. He’s been around for a while, from what I gathered.”

I risked a glance over my shoulder at... Hayden. He’d slipped his helmet on, thankfully, although his visor was popped up. The big guy taking bets had been joined by a skinny Hispanic guy who seemed to be giving Hayden instructions. Or maybe a pep talk. The little guy was acting out the race that was about to happen with his hands, complete with swerving and explosions. God, I hoped there weren’t going to be explosions. While he was going through his dramatic highlights, the big guy looped a camera over Hayden’s helmet.

When the two competitors were ready, they backed their motor- cycles onto the street. A cheer ripped up and down the sidewalk as the hopeful gamblers prepared for another round of racing. I didn’t want to feel anything but contempt for what I was witnessing, yet the energy of the spectators, the roar of the bikes—I couldn’t help the zing of excitement that raced up my spine. Against my will, my mouth twisted into a wide grin, and a yell of encouragement left my lips. Hayden’s helmet swiveled my way as he revved his engine. My pulse quickened as our eyes met. Then he winked at me and slammed his visor shut.

As the riders moved into position, Nikki grabbed my arm. “Come on. We can watch the action from the van.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Before I could ask her, though, she yanked me toward a black van parked on the sidewalk. The back doors were open, and a giant monitor attached to a swinging metal arm was sticking out above the hovering crowd. The screen was split in two, each half showing the footage from one racer’s helmet cam. Hayden and his opponent were both looking straight ahead, and the dual feeds showed similar stretches of barren road. Looking down the street, I saw that the pair were stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.

Returning my eyes to the monitor, I found myself holding my breath as I waited for the signal to change colors. When it turned green and the bikes surged forward, I stepped closer to the van, like that would somehow release my pent-up energy. In unison, the crowd around me started hooting and hollering. Swept up in the moment, I bounced on my toes and prayed for speed. But after watching the screen for just a few seconds, I was struck with the harsh reality of the situation I was watching. This was no closed-off track with well-defined paths. This was down and dirty, anything goes, just get to the finish line first racing.

The bikes blew through red lights like they meant absolutely nothing. The streets were fairly empty at this early hour, but they blurred past the few vehicles on the road like they were standing still; they had to be going 100 miles per hour, easy. They dodged obstacles by hopping onto the sidewalk, they fishtailed around slick corners, and they came close to colliding with oncoming traffic more than once.

I turned to Nikki with shock clear on my face. “This is insane! Someone’s going to get hurt. Maybe killed!”

Nikki’s face was pure elation as she watched the screens. Her expression changed as my words sunk in, then she looked at me like I had a foot sticking out of my head. I supposed it was odd to hear that type of statement coming from someone who routinely hovered around the 150 mark on the speedometer while riding, but that was a completely different kind of environment. Believe it or not, what I did was safe, relatively speaking. Millions of dollars were spent to make it that way. This was not safe. At all.

“They’re breaking every traffic law there is,” I added, feeling like a giant stick in the mud. Someone needed to be the voice of reason here, though, because everyone was clearly out of their ever loving minds.

Nikki smirked at my comment. “It’s a race, Kenzie. They can’t exactly drive cautiously. Why do you think this happens so late at night?”

“Because it’s illegal,” I deadpanned. I got a couple of odd looks from the crowd after saying that, including a particularly nasty glare from Hayden’s bet collector. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to be talking about the law. Shutting my mouth, I quickly refocused on the screen.

Just as I noticed a familiar section of street come into view on the monitor, one side of the screen started wobbling, then the camera showed asphalt, sparks, spinning scenery, and a rapidly approaching telephone pole. The crowd around me hushed as it became clear that Hayden’s competition wasn’t going to finish this race. I heard Hayden’s bike rounding the corner seconds later, then Nikki was once again pulling me along like a rag doll. She shoved us into a good position to see the finish line right as Hayden’s Honda whizzed past. He was alone. Cheers erupted mixed with a few groans from the people who’d bet on the other guy.

Just as I was wondering if anyone was going to go check on the Ninja rider, Nikki grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me with uncontainable joy. “We won, Kenzie! We frickin’ won!”

“Great,” I said, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t bite my tongue.

Releasing me, Nikki let out a squeal of excitement. “I just made enough money to pay you back and cover my loss. See, aren’t you glad you came?”

I narrowed my eyes into poisonous daggers that would hopefully drill some sense into her. “I hate you,” I murmured. Nikki held a hand over her heart. “I know by hate you mean love, and I love you too, Kenzie. Now let’s collect my winnings and go home so you can rest up. Big year this year!”

I opened my mouth to scold her with some biting remark about how I’d wanted to leave ages ago, but she turned on her heel and left me there, gaping. Just as I was forcing the muscles in my jaw to relax enough to contract, Hayden pulled up next to where I was standing on the sidewalk. It felt like the world suddenly shifted into slow motion as I turned my head to look at him.

He was still hunched over his bike, hands on the grip and throttle; the only indication that he was looking at me was the direction of his dark helmet. Then, like some freaking Prince Charming in a fairy tale, he slowly removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. I swear the air around me condensed as his tilted smile came into view. Jesus Christ, this guy was sex on a stick.

Reaching up, he roughly ran a hand through his sweaty dirty- blond hair. The short, sexy shag he’d had going on earlier was destroyed from the helmet, but somehow after just a few scruffs of his hand, the carefree style was back to utter perfection. I kind of wanted to mess it up again, run my hands through the strands, grab a handful and clench it tight while I outlined those incredibly kissable lips with my tongue.

Whoa. No. I didn’t want that.

His penetrating gaze studied my face for a moment. There was something there in his eyes that I couldn’t quite grasp. Interest, sure, but almost... sadness too. Then he smiled, and the look vanished so fast, I was sure I’d imagined it. “Haven’t seen you here before,” he said, his voice low and easy, like he hadn’t just risked his life. “I hope you bet on me. It would be a shame to see someone as beautiful as you... lose.”

His grin turned suggestive, and warning signs started flashing in front of my eyes. Danger! Do not proceed! Rocky road ahead! Turn back now! The warnings flared even brighter when he stood from his motorcycle and began approaching me.

When he was directly in front of me, so close that I could smell the subtle spicy aroma of his cologne, my heart was hammering so hard, I was positive he could hear it, positive he could see my T-shirt lifting and releasing like a frantic hummingbird was hiding under the fabric. What the hell was he doing to me? Was I nervous or excited? Because the sensation was so similar to both, I honestly couldn’t tell.

Extending a hand, he smoothly said, “Name’s Hayden. Hayden Hayes.” I was just about to lift my hand and touch him—my fingers even twitched in response—when he added, “And what should I call you, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? With those two simple syllables he had just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head and killed any fantasy I might have had about him. I lived, worked, and breathed in a world where men looked at me like I was a second-class citizen. To prove my worth, I had to work harder, longer, and with everything I had inside me, all the fucking time. I felt like he’d just tried to take all of that hard work away from me with that one demeaning word.

“Leaving,” I said, walking away.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S. C. Stephens is a #1 bestselling author who spends her every free moment creating stories that are packed with emotion and heavy on romance. In addition to writing, she enjoys spending lazy afternoons in the sun reading, listening to music, watching movies, and spending time with her friends and family. She and her two children reside in the Pacific Northwest.




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četvrtak, 28. srpnja 2016.

Release Blitz: VEILED by Karina Halle + Excerpt

  veiled available now  

Veiled AMAZONFrom the New York Times bestselling author of The Lie and The Pact comes a new romance that will test your limits and leave you breathless.






    Death. It's something that Ada Palomino has always known so well, having grown up in a house of horrors, surrounded by a family plagued by ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. But after the sudden and tragic death of her mother two years ago, death has never felt so personal. Or so close. Now eighteen, Ada is trying to move on with her life and the last month of summer holds nothing but sunshine and promises with her first year at a Portland design school just around the bend. That is until her increasingly violent and realistic dreams, dreams of other worlds, of portals and veils where her mother is tortured and souls bleed for mercy, start to blend into reality. Ada has to lean on her older sister, Perry, to try and make sense of it all but even then, she's never felt more alone. Then there's Jay. Tall, handsome and deeply mysterious, Jay would be just another stranger, a familiar face on the bus, if it wasn't for the fact that Ada has met him before. Every night. In every single dream. And the more that Ada is drawn to him in both worlds, the more she's in danger of losing everything. Including her heart. And her very soul.   
BUY LINK:



       Veiled-now     


EXCERPT:

     Veiled-3D-book



Then, out of nowhere: “You looked beautiful tonight, by the way.” Oh jeez. Be still my fucking heart. I try and swallow, his words, the sincerity in his voice rocking my world off-balance. “Which part? When the power went out or when Jacob went upstairs to fight a demon?” I joke. But I joke because I’m feeling this a little too much. “All of it. You know why I call you Princess?” he asks, his tone graver than before, like he’s letting me in on a very deep secret. “Because I’m a spoiled brat?” “Because you’re beautiful.” Well that shut me up. The sentence hangs in the air, larger than life. He clears his throat and goes on and I have to fight against the urge to roll over and face him. “You have this way about you. You don’t see it. But I do. Like you’re born royalty. The way you hold yourself. Your walk. The face of an angel.” Butterflies take flight in my gut, spreading through my veins until my whole body feels like its floating. “Why are you being so nice to me? Am I going to die?” He laughs softly. “I don’t know why I’m saying these things. Just seemed like the things to say. You’re destined for something great, Ada, I know this. And it’s an honor to help see you through it.” His words cascade down on me like ashes from a fire. Where they land, I’m ignited. Jay thinks I’m beautiful. And more than that, he believes in me. Silence settles over us, stealing time. I hear him breathing in the dark, steady as a heartbeat. He might even be sleeping. But I can’t even begin to shut down. My entire body, from the top of my scalp, down to my toes, is buzzing with heat and electricity. It’s like everything I felt for him before, everything I try to ignore, is coming out in full force, responding to his words, to his body so close to mine. I can feel the warmth at my back, sinking into my spine, just from his presence only. I’m starting to have feelings for him. Not just in a he’s a giant hulking beast who’s here to protect me from the underworld way. But real feelings, slowly creeping into my heart, day by day. The thought is terrifying in the same way that demons are terrifying. They both might take possession of me. They both might ruin me. And I’m not sure how much of me I’ll have left.  


       

QUESTIONS ABOUT VEILED

Q: Is this YA?

A: No. The main character is 18 and there is sex, crude language and violence in the book. It is recommended for mature teens or 18 and up.

Q: Is there a cliffhanger?

A: Nope! There's also no cheating and no love triangle (think I've covered the bases there!)

Q: Do I need to read the series (Experiment in Terror) that Veiled is a spinoff of first?

A: Absolutely not. Veiled stands alone. You do not need to have read the EIT series beforehand as this follows a different character (Ada Palomino) and a different storyline. However for those who have read EIT, all your favorites are in the book!

Q: Is it horror? Your other series was and I don't handle scary very well...

A: No, it's paranormal romance (though I promise you there are no vampires or werewolves), and while there are creepy elements to the story, it wouldn't be classified as horror. If you can read KMM's Fever Series or ANY urban fantasy, you'll be fine.

     
Halle HeadshotKarina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Racing the Sun, Sins & Needles and over 25 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books. Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK. Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.

  FACEBOOK TWITTER GOODREADS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE


srijeda, 27. srpnja 2016.

Book Blitz: Copper Veins (Copper Legacy #3) by Jennifer Allis Provost (Excerpt+Giveaway)


Copper Veins
Jennifer Allis Provost
(Copper Legacy #3)
Publication date: July 26th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy

Sara’s pretty sure her life is perfect.
Not only are she and Micah finally married, her father, who’d been missing since the Magic Wars, has been found. Actually, he just strode up to the manor’s front door, but whatever. Sara knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
But Baudoin Corbeau isn’t content to return to family life. He’s decided that he will be the force of change in the Mundane world, and lead the Elemental resistance to victory with his children at his side. What’s worse, Baudoin doesn’t approve of Sara’s marriage, and makes every attempt to separate her from Micah.
After a visit to the Mundane realm leaves Sara, Max and Sadie imprisoned by the Peacekeepers, Sara’s doubts creep to the surface. Is her father right? Does she belong in the Mundane realm, not the Otherworld? Is Micah really the right man–make that elf–for her?
Was marrying him a mistake?

Previous books in the series:

16193519 18812985
EXCERPT:

We walked all the way back to the manor instead of traveling by the much faster metal pathways. While he didn’t say as much, I understood that Micah wanted the extra time to clear his head, and I was content to while away the rest of the morning with him. “I’m still a bit… grumpy about being cheated out of our wedding night,” I muttered as we walked.
“Grumpy?” Micah repeated. We’d stopped beside a stream to relax and splash some cool water on our faces. “That is not quite the word I would have chosen.”
“Really?” I’d found a stubby branch, and was doodling in the mud while I sat on a rock, my back to the water. “And what word would you choose, General Silverstrand?”
“Hush. I have not filled that role for a long, long time.” He leaned over and nuzzled the soft spot behind my ear. “Lonely. Bereft. Frustrated. Unmarried.”
“Micah, it’s only been one night.”
“Yes, but until our marriage is consummated, we are not as one. The officiant said as much during our ritual.”
I recalled the actual words of the ceremony—at the time, I’d been too elated to dissect their meaning, but Corporal Rawson had said, “And once you know her as your wife, you are forever joined as one.” I hadn’t realized that that was what they meant, but I suppose it made sense. At least it was an easier requirement than babies.
“Are all marriages like that?” I asked. I felt Micah’s mouth curl into a smile.
“I don’t know. I have only been married once.” He nipped at my ear and added, “As for this marriage, I know that I must lie with you to seal our vows.”
“Well,” I murmured, stretching my neck for more kisses, “I guess we’d better get on that.”
“I agree.” Micah leaned forward to kiss me on the mouth, but he halted when he saw the result of my mud doodles. I had stabbed and slashed at the ground until it looked like a rabid buffalo had churned up the soil. “Sara, what is troubling you?”
Normally, I would have denied any troubles in favor of more kissing, but that’s pretty hard to do when the evidence is right in front of you. “Do… do you think it’s weird that Dad just showed up? I mean, we’ve been looking for him forever, and he just walks right up to the front door?”
Micah pursed his lips, taking a deep breath before he replied. “Weird? Perhaps. However, your father’s return is an unprecedented turn of good fortune. And on our wedding day, no less.”
“I love it when you say that.”
“What?”
“‘Our wedding day.’”
Micah took the stick from me and pulled me to my feet. “Soon, I will be telling you about our wedding night.” He tossed the stick into the stream and tugged me back toward the road and the manor. “Come, my love, my wife, and let me bring you home.”


Author Bio:
Jennifer Allis Provost writes books about faeries, orcs and elves. Zombies too. She grew up in the wilds of Western Massachusetts and had read every book in the local library by age twelve. (It was a small library). An early love of mythology and folklore led to her epic fantasy series, The Chronicles of Parthalan, and her day job as a cubicle monkey helped shape her urban fantasy, Copper Girl. When she’s not writing about things that go bump in the night (and sometimes during the day) she’s working on her MFA in Creative Nonfiction.

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utorak, 19. srpnja 2016.

Blog Tour: The Afterimage & Encender (The Enertia Trials #1 & #2) by J. Kowallis (Excerpt + Giveaway)


Afterimage
J. Kowallis
(The Enertia Trials #1)
Publication date: May 7th 2015
Genres: Dystopian, New Adult

Reggie’s dreams . . .
aren’t dreams.

Visions of the future flood her mind like shards of broken puzzles. Caged in her cell, every morning begins the same. She’s drugged, tortured, and images are torn from her memory by Public One.
Until the morning everything changes. The vision is different. The future’s never been about her, and now she knows they’re coming for her:
Nomads.
How will she convince them to keep her alive when Nate, their leader, doesn’t like or even trust her? To him, she’s a science experiment. A machine.
When Public One will do anything to keep her, Reggie must make a decision: remain a slave to her past, or risk her future to venture into a world more terrifying than she’s ever known.

Encender
J. Kowallis
(The Enertia Trials #2)
Publication date: February 29th 2016
Genres: Dystopian, New Adult

They say you feel cold when you die.
The people I’ve killed would beg to differ.
For twenty-something Ransley, the adopted daughter of famed street fighter Estevan Benitez, fighting is all she knows. One hidden detail separates her from the endless string of her pathetic opponents: she can craft and influence heat and fire.
When she’s pitted against the strongest fighters at the infamous Argolla, Ransley faces something she never expected:
A man like her.
Roydon can duplicate himself. When the two collide in the ring, a chain of deals turns Roydon over to Public Four and he’s taken away to undergo the disturbing process of the Nexis. What it is, or what it does, no one outside of The Public knows.
Driven by guilt and a desire to release the only person she’s ever met who’s like her, Ransley isn’t about to leave him for dead—not when he might hold the answers to her missing past. Now she must trust a pair of strangers: a former military man out to collapse the system, and a woman whose premonitions could tear them all apart.


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EXCERPT:

“What happened, Reggie?”

“Hmm?”

Nate nodded toward her leg and she sucked in a deep breath.

Her hands reached for her knee and she tried to bend it against the brace. But the extra padding prevented her from doing much with it. “Nothing. Just something small. You should, uh, take the second shower in the master bedroom. London will have clothes for you when you’re done.”

Every ounce of him wanted to keep pressing her on the subject. But he thought better of it. She didn’t want to talk about her leg, or anything else it seemed. Quietly, he stood, still watching her carefully, and knelt down in front of her.

“No, Nate. Please, I’ll be all right.”

He felt underneath the robe around the padded knee and looked up at her. “What did you wrap it with?”

“My shirt,” she whispered and almost chuckled. “London helped. He felt bad it wasn’t him that got hurt.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “What happened, Reggie?”

“I got caught behind London in the water pipe. With the water,” she added, almost as if she’d forgotten about it. “He was fine. I made sure.”

London, the one person Nate worried about most. She’d kept him safe.

Nate cleared his throat and reached down to lift her foot a few inches. The muscles in her legs tensed and he glanced up at her face. Pain had clamped her mouth shut and she looked up at the ceiling. This time, trying to be more careful, he ran his hand up her calf before gently lifting. The opening of the robe fell back over her leg.

Reggie jerked and hissed. Nate’s eyes darted toward her thigh and back up at her face.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What?” He laid her foot down again.

Reggie blushed and shook her head. “Nothing.”

It was too hot in Isaac’s home. Nate pulled off the unbuttoned plaid shirt he wore and set it on the ground. His dirty t-shirt hung loosely on him.

“I want to get a good look at that. It could be a simple sprain, but if it’s worse than that, we’ll have to figure something out.”

“I’ll be all right,” she repeated.

Against her protests, he gently felt around the knee. “I’m gonna re-wrap this for you.” He looked up at her, hesitating. “You trust me?”

Reggie took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Yeah.”

After examining the makeshift wrap, he found the end and untied it. The cloth was torn into wide lengths and wrapped tight. With each unwind, the cloth fell to the ground. When he finally saw her knee, he ran his fingers over the smooth but swollen purple skin. Goosebumps poked up on her lower thigh and down her calf. Slowly he moved her foot down and back up, watching the way the tendons and muscles moved, feeling for shifting. Nate saw Reggie grip the chair armrest and he released a sigh.

“Sprained. Not torn.” He frowned. “But that doesn’t make it feel any better. I’ll wrap this better for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Nate looked up at her. In the kitchen Nate found two long white dish towels. He paused before returning to Reggie, not entirely sure why.

Though she wouldn’t tell him the details, she’d watched over London just like she promised. If she’d been caught in the pipe, that meant she almost drowned herself in the process.

His pulse raced. He swallowed.

When he went back, Reggie was biting down on her nail, staring at the ground.

“These ought to work.” He held up the towels.

Reggie gave him a tentative smile.

“Thank you,” Nate said, wrapping up her swollen knee.

“What for?”

“For watching over London. I owe you.”

“You pulled me out of here. I owed you.”

“I was a dick. I owe you more.”

At that, Reggie chuckled. “True.”

Nate finished wrapping her sprain and ran a hand over the taught fabric. “This should work better.”

Reggie’s breath shook. “Thank you. You need to go get ready.”

Pushing himself up, he left her and headed for the master bedroom. Minutes later, Nate stepped out of the raining shower and wrapped the light fabric “towel” around his waist. It was not the same fabric he’d been used to in a towel, but it worked better than anything else he’d ever felt. Water dripped from his long shaggy hair into his face and he mussed it with his fingertips. Electric titanium hair clippers and a razor had been laid out for him. He looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually looked at his reflection. It was an odd feeling to not remember himself. Not that mirrors had never been available—he just hadn’t needed one.

Nate picked up the clippers and turned them on. The light hum of the mechanism became louder as he placed it near his ear and buzzed his entire head. Tufts of dark hair fell to the floor around his feet. When he looked back at himself, his hair was only a quarter inch long. Not since the war had his hair been this short.

He stopped to stare at himself, the razor resting in his hand, thinking about Reggie. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Shit.




Author Bio:
J. Kowallis, the only girl of four children, grew up in northern Utah with a head full of wild stories (most often unreal). At the age of 9, she wrote her first poem, a dedication to E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web. It was so intriguing, her third grade teacher requested to keep the original. Between living in various fictional worlds, and spending time on her studies, she managed to graduate from Weber State University’s creative writing program. She now lives in Utah with her Mini Schnauzer, Etta, and spends most of her time still bouncing between this world and the fantastical while enjoying delectable über-dark chocolate and lavender baths. She enjoys dreaming about, flying to, and writing about distant lands (real or unreal).


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Release Day Launch: TORN (Wicked #2) by Jennifer L. Armentrout + Excerpt

TORN - RDL banner    

The highly anticipated second book in New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout’s Wicked Trilogy is available today! Be sure to grab your copy of TORN!

    TORN - cover

Torn between duty and survival, nothing can be the same.

Everything Ivy Morgan thought she knew has been turned on its head. After being betrayed and then nearly killed by the Prince of the Fae, she’s left bruised and devastated—and with an earth-shattering secret that she must keep at all costs. And if the Order finds out her secret, they’ll kill her.

Then there’s Ren Owens, the sexy, tattooed Elite member of the Order who has been sharing Ivy’s bed and claiming her heart. Their chemistry is smoking hot, but Ivy knows that Ren has always valued his duty to the Order above all else—he could never touch her if he knew the truth. That is, if he let her live at all. Yet how can she live with herself if she lies to him?

But as the Fae Prince begins to close in on Ivy, intent on permanently opening the gates to the Otherworld, Ivy is running out of options. If she doesn’t figure out who she can trust—and fast—it’s not only her heart that will be torn apart, but civilization itself.


Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/29PZzB7

"You need this book. You need this series. It's paranormal at its best. It's New Adult at its best...Can I give this book more than 5 stars? I would if I could." ~Valerie, Stuck in Books

  TORN - RDL Teaser 1

  EXCERPT:

I lifted my right hand, reaching for my iron stake out of instinct, even though I knew it would do no good against the prince. “You shouldn’t do that.” His voice was deep with what reminded me of an English accent. “I know you want to, but it would be very, very unwise of you, Ivy.” My hand twitched. Creepy Prince smiled slightly. “Your friend has been very helpful.” That got my hackles up. I slid my sunglasses onto my forehead and forced my tone to stay calm and level. “I’m sure she has. Speaking of Val, happen to know where I can find her?” His lips curled in a semblance of a smile as he stepped closer. The prince was tall, taller than Ren, who was pushing six foot two. My entire back stiffened as I forced myself to hold my ground, even though every instinct demanded that I run and run super fast, because he had almost killed me once before. Correction. He would have definitely killed me if he hadn’t realized what I was and had, I guessed, healed me. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, instead of answering my question, his pale blue eyes fixed on mine. My hand curled into a useless fist. “That is extremely creepy to hear.” That cold smile returned. “Why don’t we talk? There are seats across the way.” “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” The slow smile increased but never reached his eyes. “Oh, I know it is.” Fine hairs rose on my arms. “What exactly can you do right now?” he said in the same coldly polite voice. “Refuse me?” Creepy Prince laughed, and it wasn’t a bad sound. Again, it was something that was just cold, as if he were mimicking what a human would do. “You can’t.” “I can.” My palm itched to grab the thorn stake secured under my pant leg, but I held still. I might be reckless, but I wasn’t stupid. “Really? I will have to beg to differ on that. You see, humans surround us. So many of them, and I have an extraordinary appetite.” His eyes appeared to glimmer as his gaze slithered from the top of my curly head down to my toes. “A rather impressive appetite for many, many things.” “Okay. First off, ew.” My lip curled. “Secondly, I don’t want to hear about any of your appetites.” One dark eyebrow rose. “Oh, but you should know that I could kill twenty of these humans in less than five seconds and feed on the rest, leaving them to believe that it was this little red-headed girl who murdered these innocent people.” His voice dropped even lower as he leaned in and icy air brushed my cheek. “You deny me this, those lives will be on your hands, little bird.” Anger flushed hotly as my eyes met his. There wasn’t a single part of me that doubted anything he said. He had me. God, I hated to admit it, but he had me.  

"Drama! Action! Romance! Twists! Torn had it all...Torn was a perfect continuation of the Wicked Saga." ~Kim, Kimberlyfaye Reads

    TORN - RDL Teaser 2    

Things are about to get Wicked in New Orleans…

Don’t miss the first title in the series, WICKED!

   

WICKED - cover

 

Amazon ** Barnes and Noble ** iBooks ** Kobo

 

Author Photo--JLA_J. Lynn #1 New York Times and #1 International Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki. Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV. Her young adult romantic suspense novel DON’T LOOK BACK was a 2014 nominated Best in Young Adult Fiction by YALSA. She also writes Adult and New Adult contemporary and paranormal romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.  

Website ** Facebook ** Twitter ** Novel Goodreads ** Author Goodreads

    TORN - Available Now     InkSlinger-Blogger-New





ponedjeljak, 11. srpnja 2016.

Spotlight Tour: A Promise of Fire by Amanda Bouchet + Giveaway











Title: A Promise of Fire
Series: Kingmaker Chronicles, #1
Author: Amanda Bouchet
Pubdate: August 2nd, 2016
ISBN: 9781492621898







KINGDOMS WILL RISE AND FALL FOR HER…
BUT NOT IF SHE CAN HELP IT

Catalia "Cat" Fisa lives disguised as a soothsayer in a traveling circus. She is perfectly content avoiding the danger and destiny the Gods—and her homicidal mother—have saddled her with. That is, until Griffin, an ambitious warlord from the magic-deprived south, fixes her with his steely gaze and upsets her illusion of safety forever.

Griffin knows Cat is the Kingmaker, the woman who divines the truth through lies. He wants her as a powerful weapon for his newly conquered realm—until he realizes he wants her for much more than her magic. Cat fights him at every turn, but Griffin's fairness, loyalty, and smoldering advances make him increasingly hard to resist and leave her wondering if life really does have to be short, and lived alone.

Award-winning author Amanda Bouchet grew up in New England and studied French at the undergraduate and graduate levels. She moved to Paris, France, in 2001. Her first novel, A Promise of Fire, won several Romance Writers of America chapter contests, including the Orange Rose Contest and the paranormal category of the prestigious Golden Pen.

Buy Links:


Sourcebooks Casablanca is thrilled to announce that we are releasing our very first fantasy romance! Coming August 2016 from debut author Amanda Bouchet is the un-put-downable Promise of Fire, the first in the Kingmaker Chronicles series.

To celebrate, we’re giving you the first FIVE chapters to read FOR FREE!

Download the first five chapters here.



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Chapter 1

I pluck at my crimson tunic, tenting the lightweight linen away from my sticky skin. The southern Sintan climate isn’t my worst nightmare, but it sometimes ranks pretty high, right along with the stifling layers of cosmetics masking my face, my leather pants, and my knee-high boots.

Heat and leather and heels don’t mix, but at least looking like a brigand means blending into the circus. Here, discreet only gets you noticed.

Craning my neck for a breath of fresh air, I navigate my way through the beehive of tables already set up for the circus fair. The performers on the center stage are the main attraction. The rest of us surround them, carving out places for ourselves amid the crowd. Tonight, hemmed in on all sides in an amphitheater lit by hundreds of torches and filled to capacity, I feel like a Cyclops is sitting on my chest—suffocated.

Damp curls cling to my neck. I peel them off and tuck them back into my braid, scanning the crowd as I walk. I recognize some of the regulars. Others I don’t know. My eyes trip over a man and get stuck. He’s looking at me, and it’s hard not to look back. He’s striking in a dark, magnetic way, his size, weapons, and bearing all telling me he’s a tribal warlord. His build is strong and masculine, his gait perfectly balanced and fluid. He walks with predatory confidence, unhurried, and yet there’s no mistaking his potential for swift, explosive violence. It’s not latent or hidden, just leashed.

Watchful, alert, he’s aware of everything in his vicinity. Especially me.

Our gazes collide, and something in me freezes. His eyes remind me of Poseidon’s wrath—stormy, gray, intense—the kind of eyes that draw you in, hold you there, and might not let you go.

Adrenaline surges through me, ratcheting up my pulse. My heart thumping, I blink and take in the rest of him. Intelligent brow. Strong jaw. Wide mouth. Hawkish nose. Black hair brushes a corded neck atop broad shoulders that have no doubt been swinging a sword since before he could walk. Body toned to perfection, skin darkened by a lifetime in the sun, he’s battle-chiseled and hard, the type of man who can cleave an enemy in two with little effort and even less consequence to his conscience.

He keeps staring at me, and a shiver prickles my spine. Is this man my enemy?

There’s no reason to think so, but I didn’t stay alive this long without the help of a healthy dose of paranoia.

Wary, I sit at my table, keeping an eye on him as he weaves a bold path through an array of potions, trinkets, and charms. He’s flanked by four similar men. Their coloring varies, but they all have the same sure look about them, although they pale in comparison to the warlord in both authority and allure. The man with the gray eyes is a born leader, and only an idiot would mistake him for anything else.

He stares for so long that I start to wonder if he can somehow bore through my layers of face paint and unmask me, but I’ve never seen him before, and he can’t possibly know the person underneath. I’m from the north of Fisa, where magic is might. He’s from the south of Sinta, where muscle and cunning decide who lives or dies. Our paths would never have crossed in the past, and warlords don’t usually frequent the circus.

I look away, hoping he’ll do the same. There are plenty of reasons a man stares at a woman. An exotic face and generous figure attract as much attention as a good mystery, if not more, and the warlord’s intense scrutiny feels more appreciative than alarming.

Ignoring the flush now creeping into my cheeks, I smooth the wrinkles from the coarse wool blanket covering my table and arrange my paraphernalia like usual. My glittering, gold-lettered sign advertises Cat the Magnificent—Soothsayer Extraordinaire, even though flashes of the future only come here and there, usually in dreams. Luckily, it only takes a few questions for truths to reveal themselves like flowers opening for the sun. I read people’s body language and glean who they are, what they want, and maybe even what they’re capable of. It’s about knowledge and illusion. I get a copper for it, which is more than a fair deal for me. I won’t peddle futures. I have an idea of my own, and that’s more than enough.

My leg starts a nervous bounce. Prophecies can be interpreted loosely, right?

The audience gasps, and I turn to see what’s happening on the stage. Vasili is throwing knives at his wife. She’s strapped to the flat side of a vertical, rotating wheel, and he’s blindfolded. He’s never hit her, but my heart still comes to a complete standstill every time they perform. Tonight is no exception, and I hold my breath, both riveted and terrified, until he runs out of knives.

The crowd is too caught up in the circus to take advantage of the fair, so I get up again and head to the performers’ gate to watch the end of the show and put some distance between the warlord and me. He’s still looking when he shouldn’t be.

The air coming through the gate is fresher, bringing with it the sound of Cerberus’s chuffing breaths and the scent of sweaty dog. He’s Hades’s pet, so I doubt the heat bothers him. I toss him a wave, and two of his three upper lips curl in a snarl of acknowledgment. One of these days, I’ll get all three, although in eight years I never have. I think his middle head just doesn’t like me.

Finished with his performance, Vasili unstraps his wife while Aetos launches himself onto the stage with a triple flip and lands in a fighter’s crouch that shakes the platform. The solid wood creaks under his colossal weight, and the rapt crowd murmurs in awe. Aetos straightens, pounds his chest, tears the horse pelt off his giant back, and catches fire. His roar shakes the amphitheater. No one can roar like Aetos. I’ve seen him perform hundreds of times, and I still get chills.

Seven and a half feet tall, muscle-bound, and tattooed blue from head to toe with Tarvan tribal swirls, he moves his hands in an impossibly fast dance, weaving fire until he’s encased in a sphere of living flame. He bursts through the crackling barrier with another roar. The explosion blasts the hair away from my face and dries out the inside of my nose. I’m forty feet away but feel like I’m in the furnaces of the Underworld. Fanning myself is useless. I’ll never get used to the southern heat, and with Aetos performing, it’s even worse.

The Sintan Hoi Polloi can barely contain themselves. It’s like doing tricks for children—everything enchants. For them, the circus is a whirlwind of power and impossible magical delights. Everywhere from the hard-packed dirt floor surrounding the fair tables and stage to the high, far reaches of the circular stone seating, people jump up and down, hooting and stomping their feet.

My feet tap along with the crowd’s, my eyes following Aetos around the stage. What a relief to be back in Sinta, even with all the dust and heat. I do whatever I can to stay on the west side of Thalyria. Our recent sojourn in the middle realm of Tarva made my lungs tight and my fingers itch for a knife. I’d probably start jumping at shadows if the circus ever went all the way east to Fisa. Just the thought of my home realm makes my sweat turn cold.

Sinta. Tarva. Fisa. West to east. Here to… Nothing I’m going to think about.

The audience whoops in approval of Aetos’s fiery moves. Hoi Polloi in the amphitheater are ecstatic—and not only with the show. They’ve been celebrating ever since a warlord from the tribal south hacked his way north to Castle Sinta to put his own sister on the throne. You’d think Dionysus had dumped a three-month supply of wine over the entire realm. Temples are overflowing with Sintans offering prayers of gratitude, their holy men overcome with gifts to help clothe and feed the poor. Statues of Athena, who is apparently well loved by the conquering warlord, have been spontaneously erected in towns and villages from here to the Ice Plains in Sinta’s north. Happiness and generosity abound, and I don’t even want to think about how many sheep have been slaughtered for celebratory feasts.

For the first time ever, the magicless majority is in charge, and Hoi Polloi are literally dancing in the streets—but only when they’re not throwing themselves in abject loyalty at the feet of the new royal family. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t actually seen the new royals, but news spreads fast when there’s something to say. After the warlord and his southern army secured the Sintan throne last spring, his family took weeks just to move north. Not because they’re slow, but because of the sheer number of adoring people in their way.

It’s no secret the northern-born Magoi royals here in Sinta were despots, just like everywhere else in Thalyria. Hoi Polloi know they’re better off with one of their own in charge.

But royals without magic? My cynical snort is lost in the boisterousness of the crowd. It’ll never last.


Want more? Download the first FIVE chapters here.
Click here to learn more about A Promise of Fire by Amanda Bouchet.