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The Last Dragonfly
-- EXCERPT: She strode around the fence and out onto the orchard’s ground. The creature in her pocket shifted around and around and a growly squeak sounded. Etoiny lifted a pocket flap and peeked inside. The creature had curled up and growled again at the streak of light shining in. Streaks of weak steam puffed out. “Please give me some space to think,” she told Morem without looking up. “Half a dozen steps, if you please.” “No.” Etoiny snapped her head up at Morem’s response. “I need to know what’s going on with that thing.” He peered at her pocket. “You’ve not been yourself. Sure, you’ve always spent large amounts of time in your room, and this must be difficult for you.” He gestured to the figures walking away from them. “But you’ve brushed off those that care about you, hardly seen the sun, and it’s been two days since you’ve asked me for our daily riddle.” Hurt leached into the last part of his sentence. He bumped her elbow with his fingertips and directed her to a far blossom tree. “I discovered it with you. Don’t you trust me?” He’d not said so many words in one speech in a long time. “Of course, I trust you. I just wanted to figure some things out before I told anyone about it. Before the Science Society’s admittance presentations.” Morem stood straighter. “And have you?” Etoiny glanced at her shuddering pocket. “Not a lot.” “Don’t you think that if the two of us looked, we’d cover more ground? Gather more information?” “Perhaps.” Etoiny drew out the word, thinking hard about Jaya’s actions. “Although, I have cause to believe someone knows and is trying to steal it.” “Well, we won’t let them.” Morem’s rich brown eyes and stoic expression swelled guilt in her chest. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Stars Like Gasoline
-- EXCERPT: “The blisters hurt like the devil when the water hit them, and the open sores on my ankles were screaming demons at me. The night was the kind of heat the air conditioning doesn’t quite hold the upper hand over. Every window was fogged over with moisture. A 2019 Kikumoto painting with no title was a rare find indeed. If I could only get the release for the other piece I’d found, I could bet the gala would draw art dealers and patrons from much farther than our usual guests. Strange that the Cesar acquisition had come from Fort Pierce. While it had a small arts community, the town just south of us wasn’t known for the careful upper-middle-class and bourgeois lifestyle of Vero Beach. Maybe I was tired, but it felt like I was missing vital puzzle pieces here. An anonymous donation of a huge Cesar collection, Kikumotos appearing out of nowhere, seemingly belonging to no one, and a Cesar having once been in my house but now missing. Cabinet doors slammed in the kitchen, and a thump preceded the sound of running water. I jumped in my seat, leaving my laptop open on the small writing desk, which sat facing the front window. Goosebumps ran a race up my legs and arms, chilling every inch of me. Clenched fingers opened and closed over my phone. Screw it. I texted Oscar. Something is in here. Don’t call Adrian. If you’re already home, no worries. Just letting you know. As I raised my eyes from the phone screen, a reflection caught in the fogged window. Silhouetted against the arcing bougainvillea was a man, standing directly behind me. The chair crashed to the floor as I stood like a jack-in-the-box. An icy touch reached out. I grabbed at the salt from the windowsill and tossed it at the shape, watching as the aberration in the room broke apart momentarily. A Spode Blue Italian salt bowl sat on the corner of the black spindle-legged desk. I cupped my fingers into the salt granules, pulled a handful, and spun in a quick circle, entrapping myself within the purported protection circle. I chanted an old Wiccan protection spell I’d found in an eighteenth-century grimoire in Boston and watched the spirit come closer and closer to the circle. “Elements of Day, Rays of Sun, Hear what I say “Goddess of Night, Strength of Other, Goddess of Light, Protection of Mother.” God only knows why I had that memorized when I’d only seen the piece a handful of times. The Catholic side of the family would be appalled by my use of a Wiccan spell, but La Madre María hadn’t been working so far. ” 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Return to Hummingbird Way by Reese Ryan #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours28/4/2023
Return to Hummingbird Way
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “Garrett Davenport, how very nice of you to finally show up.” Sinclair sashayed toward him, clutching a clear clipboard decorated with a colorful floral design. Sinclair assessed him with disdain, flecks of green and gold dancing in those large hazel eyes he’d been mesmerized by from the first moment he’d laid eyes on them in high school. She pursed her glossy pink lips, her nostrils flaring, and planted a fist on one curvy hip. The bossy little she-devil was infuriating, attitudish, and fucking gorgeous. And she damn well knew it. Her floral, sleeveless dress showed off her toned arms and sculpted shoulders—a feature he’d never noticed on a woman before, let alone been attracted to. The hem of the flirty little skirt grazed her midthigh, accentuating her tawny brown skin, a shade that landed smack between her father’s dark brown skin and her mother’s olive skin tone. Sinclair flipped her hair, a deep, rich brown highlighted with ribbons of honey blond, over one shoulder and ran her manicured nails through the waterfall of shoulder-length waves. Her gaze bore into him, and if looks could kill, he’d be lying on the floor stone cold. “You do realize you’re an hour late to your own best friend’s engagement party.” She leaned into him, speaking in a harsh whisper that only he could hear. “You sure you gon’ be able to show up for the wedding on time?” Her nasally voice reminded him of Whitley Gilbert’s from A Different World. And just a few minutes into the conversation, she’d already intimated that he was an unreliable slacker. Rett clenched his jaw. Yet, as annoyed as he was, he couldn’t help noticing how hot Sin looked tonight. “Sorry I’m late,” Rett finally managed. He shoved his hands, balled into fists, into his pockets. “Something came up.” Sinclair’s gaze dropped to the placket in front of his zipper momentarily. Her eyes widened and her cheeks and forehead flushed. She quickly returned her attention to the clipboard. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t forget their previous encounter. “It’s always some excuse with you, Rett.” Sinclair wrapped her arms around the clipboard, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his. Was she clutching the clipboard because he made her nervous? Or was she shielding her body’s reaction after shamelessly ogling him two minutes into their conversation? It didn’t matter. Because Sinclair Buchanan was as irritating now as she’d been when they’d been forced to hang out together while Dexter and Dakota had dated in high school. She seemed to hate him on sight back then. But he hadn’t helped matters when he’d tried to talk his cousin out of getting serious with Sin’s best friend. When Dex had suddenly ended things with Dakota the Christmas after he’d left for college, Sinclair had confronted Rett outside his grandmother’s house. She’d been as mad as a hornet and had cussed him out six ways to Sunday—sure he’d been behind the breakup. He hadn’t been. But he hadn’t bothered telling her so. Besides, as distraught as she’d been, he’d doubted Sinclair would’ve believed a single word he’d said. Since Dexter and Dakota’s reconciliation, Sinclair must surely have learned the truth: he had nothing to do with Dexter and Dakota’s breakup back then. In fact, he’d been as shocked by it as anyone. But evidently, it didn’t matter, because Sinclair clearly still wasn’t a fan. Though she certainly had been that night in his hotel room, given the enthusiasm with which she’d called his name and the marks she’d left on his back. “It’s not an excuse, Sin. I planned to be here on time, but I was sidetracked by—” “Didn’t think you were going to make it.” Dexter approached, holding Dakota’s hand. The two of them looked ridiculously happy, and Rett felt a slight twinge of envy. “And miss your engagement party?” Rett slapped palms and clasped hands with Dex. “No way, cuz. Been waiting half my life to see you finally tie the knot with this beautiful lady.” He turned toward his cousin’s soon-to-be better half. “Congrats, Dakota.” “Thank you, Rett.” Dakota’s grin lit her brown eyes. She gave him a big hug. “And for the record, I knew you’d be here tonight. It was these two who were sweating it.” She gestured toward Dex and Sinclair, then glanced around the room. “Mama Mae didn’t come with you?” “She’s sick and didn’t much appreciate me fussing over her,” Rett said. “But you did anyway.” Dakota smiled. “The relationship you two have is adorable.” “’Cause Mama Mae is the only woman who can get him to behave,” Sinclair muttered as she scanned her clipboard. When they all turned to look at her, Sin looked up and shrugged. “What? You know it’s true.” “Be nice, Sin.” Dakota pointed a finger at her best friend. “You promised you two would get along.” “Fine.” She flashed Rett a dead-eyed smile and turned up the Whitley Gilbert singsong southern belle voice. “We are so very glad that you could join us this evening, Garrett. I was just about to ask the staff to take the food away. So please make yourself a plate.” She batted her long, thick eyelashes. “In fact, why don’t I escort you to the buffet?” Dexter and Dakota snickered, and Rett couldn’t help chuckling to himself. That was as warm a greeting as he could expect from the former beauty queen, who now employed that same charm in her job as one of the island’s top real estate agents. Evidently, she reserved that charm for people not named Rett Davenport. Sinclair turned and walked toward the buffet, indicating that he should come with. He did, captivated by the subtle sway of her hips as he followed in the wake of her soft, delicate scent. All of it taking him back to that night they’d shared in Raleigh five years ago. Yes, he’d been an immature jerk to Sinclair in high school. She clearly still held a grudge and had no intentions of letting him forget it. Despite the night they’d shared. Fine. Because he wasn’t here for Sinclair. He was here for Dexter and Dakota. For them, he’d tolerate Ms. Thing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with her. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Entirely
-- Q&A with Talya Blaine: What was your favorite scene or theme in Entirely to write? My favorite scene to write was the one in which Quinn and Jonathan are standing in her kitchen in the early hours of the morning, after Becca’s wedding reception. They listen to Becca’s voicemail and then they go to bed. Funny, sexy, intimate–and before the realization of a secret that threatens to pull them apart. Writing that scene was a pleasure. What was the hardest part of the story to write? Without spoilers, it was when Jonathan makes his “discovery.” I felt terrible for him because I knew he would feel so utterly betrayed–it was hard to write the scenes where he’s trying to process what happened. Entirely completes the first trilogy of the Transformation series. What’s next? Plans are underway for the release next year of some shorter, lighter, funnier stories, more like sexy rom-coms. And with the chemistry between Quinn and Jonathan, as well as all the twists and turns I imagine their life–and the other characters’ lives–taking, expect to see more of them soon. What’s at the top of your TBR (to be read) pile right now? The pile is high and always growing but since I’ve been writing a lot lately, I haven’t had as much time to read. Also, when I’m writing fiction, the stories and characters really inhabit my life (or I, theirs), and it’s hard for me to get into other stories and worlds. That said, I’m excited because next up are:
Where can readers find you online? Visit my blog, and to be notified of new posts, book releases, and special offers, add your email to my list. And/or let’s connect on BingeBooks, BookBub or Goodreads. 
GIVEAWAY! --
One Wolf Next Door
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Samantha tossed and turned all night. The dream was always the same. She shifted again, trying to wipe it from her mind. She had better things to think of than that wretched coven she had grown up with, like her hot neighbor. Oh yeah, Sam, all that muscle. Great, thinking of him didn’t help, that made things worse. She started heating up. “This is stupid.” She pulled the covers back and headed to the shower. The more she envisaged her hot neighbor the more she wanted to go over to his house and ask for a cup of sugar or something more. She turned the taps on, let the cold water blast her. She let out a scream, and Gilbert came running, barking continuously. “Calm down, it’s just water.” He turned and trotted back out of the bathroom. She had just enough time to soak her hair before a loud banging came from the front door. “Damn it.” She turned the taps off and grabbed a towel to dry off then threw a bathrobe on and bolted down the stairs to open the door. Her mouth dropped at all the hotness taking up the door space. Dex was standing there in nothing but his pajama bottoms. She scanned his face, losing herself in those blue eyes before doing a slow crawl down the expanse of his chest to his toes. Holy mother in heaven this man was perfection. She’d never be able to wipe this moment from her consciousness. She shook her head when she realized she was ogling. When she locked eyes with Dex again, he was grinning. “Like what you see?” His deep voice did nothing to help. “Um, um. Why are you here?” “I heard a scream.” Gilbert came scattering along and headed straight to Dex’s feet. Dex bent to pick him up, and the traitor started licking his face and chest. She was envious in that moment and cleared her throat. “Um, that was just the cold water.” “Do you have problems with your plumbing? I could take a look.” He was still grinning, and there was a definite sparkle in his eyes. Why did it feel like he wasn’t really talking about her watering system? A wave of heat hit her. She needed to get him off her front porch before she threw him down and had her way with him. Images flashed in her mind—she naked with Dex. “Ah, no. It’s all good. Just a little clumsiness on my part.” She made a move to grab Gilbert. “Thank you for checking in. Come on Gilbert.”
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Legends of Ash and Dust (Fearless 1) by Kate Cowan #Fantasy #YA @Xpresso Book Tours28/4/2023
Legends of Ash and Dust
-- EXCERPT: ““What is it?” I demanded. “What’s happening? Kentric, I saw fire—“ “We’re being attacked,” Kentric said. Shouts and bangs and running footfalls filled the air, filtering in through the dark window. “What?” I started for the door, but he pulled me back to face him. “We have to go, we have to fight—“ “There are too many, Aerona. Far too many.” “Too many? We’re Warriors.” “Fifty of us have already been slain in the Sanctuary,” Kentric said quickly. “More at the outposts and farmhouses. There are hundreds of them, Aerona, an army. We cannot win.” “No,” I breathed. The world had been opening before my eyes that morning: now, it felt as if it closed in from every angle, crushing me. Taking a step back, I looked to the glowing window, listened to the screams in the distance. “We can fight them! Drive them off,” I was pleading, tears in my eyes, but there was ice in Kentric’s gaze. He had stopped listening. From around his neck, he pulled something on a thin black cord out of his robes. It was small and silver, glinting in the faint light from the window. The symbol of the Shae—all of the Masters wore one, a hand-forged silver pendant. A mountain overlaid with two crossed swords, surrounded by a circle of four dragons. He pushed it into my hands. “No. I can’t,” I took a step back, looking shakily down at the heavy, cold pendant. “There’s no time for this. Listen to me carefully,” he took my shoulders, standing so close I could feel his breath on my face. “The prince is your responsibility now. He’s in the barns, Malik told him to meet you there. Take horses and get off the Shae mountain. Get far, don’t stop moving, and don’t use the gates to get past River’s Edge. Go through the river itself. Don’t come back here, don’t try to fight them. You are Shae. You are one of us. Never forget that. We will fight them as long as we can. Stay off the main roads and away from anyone until you reach Dothor.” I tried to suppress the tears welling up in my eyes, clenching my jaw and my fists, but my heart broke as Kentric wrapped me in a fierce hug. He was old, but like an ancient willow, he was supple and strong. “Now go, Aero,” he whispered in my ear. “Go!” I knew I would regret it, Gods, I knew I would—but I did as Kentric told me. I ran. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Wooded Discovery
-- EXCERPT: The towel I’m wrapped in smells like Mom’s favorite mountain-scented fabric softener. A clean air smell drifts from the wet terry cloth, mixing with the biting scent of chlorine from the pool water in my hair. Both normal smells. Both familiar. Neither helps me relax after hearing their detailed description of what I am. Mom sits across from me at our kitchen table, sipping from her favorite purple coffee cup. Dad sits in the chair next to Mom. Take out the trash. Pick up your dirty underwear. Oh, by the way, you’re a wizard. “Congratulations.” Dad toasts me with his cup. “You’ve transmogrified.” He slurps his coffee. The clock ticks on the wall over the counter. The refrigerator hums as the ice maker kicks on. And I’m a wizard. (Note to self: J.K. Rowling was full of crap. Finding out you’re a wizard sucks.) “What does that mean?” More Latin? “Changed, honey, into a wizard.” We sit in silence for a moment. Mom crosses her legs and kicks her foot back and forth, wiggling the table with her. Dad shakes, too, bouncing his knees. Vibrations from their movements travel through the wooden tabletop. Like they’re five and Christmas has come early. All I want is to wake up from this weird dream, finish high school, and go away to college. But as much as I want to argue with them, I can’t. Mom froze my body with her mind. I jumped out a window and flew. Dad flew after me. On a scale of one-to-ten, that’s enough weirdness to score a one hundred on the weird-shit-o-meter. Finding out I’m a wizard sounds less insane by comparison. 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Undertaking Love by Megan Montgomery #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours27/4/2023
Undertaking Love
-- EXCERPT: Bethany
My body was broken. I blinked hard to lubricate my eyes, struggling to stay awake behind the wheel. The vent blasted tepid air into my face, trying its damnedest to desiccate my skin and sabotage the efforts of my latest hyaluronic acid injections. My stomach churned from too much coffee and too little sleep. A sweat broke out under my arms and boobs. Great. Now I could smell all that coffee excreting from my pores and ruining my favorite silk blouse. I glanced at the man in the passenger seat. George’s pores were looking perfectly dry, as usual. He wouldn’t think of sweating, even from the most strenuous effort. I’d seen him pull a rotund, decomposing man out of that impossible space between the toilet and the bathtub and plop him on a mortuary cot in an un-air-conditioned, third-floor apartment in the middle of August without breaking a sweat. The man never had a hair out of place, was never not freshly shaven, and he never forgot to button his suit jacket when he stood, or unbutton it when he sat. And he was a consummate professional—as long as you didn’t work with him. And as long as your name wasn’t Bethany West. I breathed in a lungful of stale air. Even now, in the mortuary van, George managed to smell fresh, yet intensely masculine. The faintest notes of sandalwood and citrus wafted toward me as he fiddled with his ear, pushing his earbud deeper in. I suspected he wasn’t listening to anything producing actual sound; the earbuds were just a tactic to try to keep me from making “unnecessary” conversation. I was almost too tired to care. I stifled a yawn, hoping he wouldn’t catch it. He did, of course. I saw the tick of his jaw from the corner of my eye. Glaring at the screen of the laptop balanced on his crossed legs, his flexed fingers hovering over the keyboard, a ballpoint pen clutched in his teeth. I’d never seen the man smile except for a wince-like approximation of the real thing, and he saved that stingy expression for our clients. After an entire life spent in the trenches of the funeral business, his handsome face was permanently etched into a show of bland sympathy—except when he scowled in contempt. That expression was reserved exclusively for me.
GIVEAWAY! --
Renley
-- EXCERPT: I look down at the white stick in my hand and see the impossible. Two pink lines. I pick up the other one, and this one says what the other suggests: PREGNANT. I sink down on the toilet lid. “No! No, no, no, no, no!” I close my eyes and shake my head until it swims. One night with a real asshole is all it took, and this is what came of it. The situation is unreal. I can’t believe it. How could I be so stupid? Alcohol and penises just don’t mix. There’s a pounding on the bathroom door. “Adder! Tell me! Tell me, tell me! Are you… preggers?” he whispers the last word like someone might hear. I grab my head and whimper. I do the futile and try to banish him, yelling through the door, “Jazzie, go away!” I lean my head against the Pepto Bismol color wall of my apartment. “You are!” He gasps, rattling the door. Finding it locked, he starts knocking like he’s a Girl Scout with a cookie quota to make. “Let me in! I need to see!” I stand, because my bathroom is closet-sized and unlock the door. Opening it, I wave Jazzie in and move to sit on the edge of our tub. He picks up the stick and then sets it down, cringing. “You tinkled on this. Augh! I forgot about that!” “I didn’t pee all over it,” I defend myself. “Knowing you, that’s debatable.” He rolls his eyes. I sigh. “Jazz, I’m gonna toss you out in a second.” “Will not, I’m your best friend.” He smirks. “I’m your only friend.” “I can find more friends.” I knock my head against the tile. “But we’ve known one another since we were six. I came out to you when I was thirteen. We have history,” he says smugly. “We are going to be history,” I sass. Jazzie ignores me, smiles before laughing joyfully. “We’re going to be mothers!” I lift my arms in argument and let them fall to my thighs with a clap of defeat. “I can’t keep this baby!” “You aren’t talking about…” he whispers, “abortion.” “I’m talking about having this baby and dropping it off on PJ Westgate’s doorstep. He’s got money, and you and I eat out of the clearance racks at Vons.” I stand, grabbing the pee sticks and move out to the living room. I set the pregnancy tests down on our kitchen table, and Jazzie squeals. “Ewww! No! We eat here!” He points at the table before going and grabbing napkins from our copious supply. We have a collection from nearly every fast food restaurant in the city. He lays out five, waves me to set down the sticks and makes a face. “So gross.” “Seriously? I couldn’t do the tests any other way. It was urine only, nothing else was acceptable.” I give him a look of censure. He shivers like he’s got the willies and sucks on his bottom lip. “Whateves. Take a picture. Send it to him. NO! Better yet. Send it to the whole band. Blast it. Make it so it can’t be ignored.” “I don’t know. You’re talking about rocking the boat… again. That didn’t work so well last time. I lost my job and can’t worm my way into working anywhere in the entertainment industry again.” I look down at the tests. “Cheez Whiz. How am I going to afford the costs of being pregnant? It’s expensive. I mean, my bank account is hurting just in food I lose in tossing my cookies back up these days.” “Well, you do buy expensive cookies.” Jazz sighs as I flip him off. “What? You’re a known cookie slut. I mean go with it. It’s one slutting you can wear with relentless pride.” “Jazz? How am I going to do this?” I mutter. “I have a great job.” He hugs me. “I’ll help.” I wrap my hands around my best friend. “No offense, but you’re an Uber driver. You don’t have any benefits. With me out of work, we are eking by. We can barely pay for this apartment.” I look around. Our apartment is delightful with its parquet floors and 40’s-esque charm. Miracle Mile isn’t the most overly sought after location in Los Angeles, but everywhere you go in the city, you pay more than you should. Our one bedroom is barely 800 square feet, it’s small and over 2k/month. I got a great severance from CypherSphere when I was let go. I was a paid intern, which is a unicorn position in the industry. On top of that, I got a hush settlement to stop talking about what happened. Those two combined lasted six months. Not being able to find a job is an expense in itself. “We’ll make it work.” Jazz nods. “Now send off those pee sticks.”
GIVEAWAY! --
Bookworm
-- EXCERPT: Rolling my eyes, I reached over, gently grasped his forearm and brought it closer. “What are you doing?” “Relax,” I said, trying not to laugh at the alarm I heard in his voice. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now.” “Says the girl who gave me a bookcussion” he grumbled. Biting back a smile, I concentrated on his forearm, running my fingers over his skin to find the correct spot. This took a few moments. When I found it, I leaned closer, using my thumbs to press down, gently at first, then adding a little more pressure. Bo didn’t tense. He didn’t move a muscle. I might’ve thought he’d stopped breathing he was so still. But then I felt his breath against my neck. The sensation sent shivers down my spine. I counted the seconds under my breath and then released him. “What was that, Kent?” he asked softly. “I looked up how to treat a sprained wrist,” I said with a shrug. “It was nothing, just one of the techniques they recommended.” “You looked that up?” Meeting his eyes, I nodded. “Does it feel any better?” Bo glanced down at his wrist before looking back up, locking me in his intense stare. “Yeah, it does. Thanks, Kent.” For some reason, I blushed. “No problem.” I didn’t know what made me say it. But I added, “Maybe now, you won’t be so opposed to working with me.” Bo shook his head. “It’s not that.” “It’s not?” “No,” he said. “I just don’t like the idea of you taking care of me out of some misplaced sense of guilt.” Oh. I hadn’t even considered that possibility. “I thought you hated having me around,” I admitted. “I don’t.” “You even told me how much you hate people.” “Not you,” he said. My heart skipped a beat. “I could never hate you, Kent.”
GIVEAWAY! -- |
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