Queen of Roses
-- EXCERPT: “Please–” I tried to say, but the knife tightened, cutting into the soft skin of my throat. I felt something warm trickle down my chest. Blood. My blood. “She’s bleeding, you fool,” Baudwin exclaimed. “You’re hurting her.” “Hurting the Pendragon fae-blooded bitch? The tainted heir?” The man holding me gave a nasty chuckle. “And you expect me to care when—” Abruptly, his words ceased. The knife against my throat slid swiftly away, nearly cutting me again as it fell to the ground still clutched in the man’s hand. I turned to see my would-be-captor lying on the ground with an arrow through his chest and blood spilling from his still-open mouth. Behind me, Baudwin and the other man were shouting to one another in confusion. I didn’t know whether to face them, join them, or run out of the alley. Before I could finish deciding, I heard the sound of pounding hooves, then caught a glimmer of steel flashing past me. I fell back against the wall of the alley as a stallion sped past me. I glimpsed a man in the uniform of a Royal Guard sitting tall and upright in the saddle, his weapon drawn and ready. The shouts behind me rapidly became screams. By the time I had stood up again, it was already too late. Baudwin and the cloaked man were crumpled on the ground, blood pooling around them. I stared at their bodies, horrified. The guard on the horse dismounted quickly and strode towards me, gripping me by the shoulders. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” I recognized the voice. I forced myself to focus. The white linen and black leather of the guard’s uniform. The glint of a silver ring in his ear. Dark hair falling over his brow. I pulled away from Kairos Draven as hard as I could, stepping backwards until I hit the wall. “You,” I said in disbelief. “You’ve killed them all. Why? Why did you do that?”
GIVEAWAY! I Used to be Fun
-- EXCERPT: She was bored. No, not bored. How can someone so busy be bored? It was more like disconnected—slightly separated from everything and everyone around her. She didn’t see the point of any of it, which seemed ridiculous because on paper, Jess had it all. A healthy, mostly-happy family, a part-time job she didn’t mind going to, financial security, good friends. It was enough that she felt guilty wanting anything more. But that didn’t change the fact that she did want more. She wanted to live. Some other life. One that amazed her or, more accurately, one in which she was amazing. Before she was Jessica Halloway, she was Jessica Saunders. And Jessica Saunders was supposed to be extraordinary. She was going to do something important in this world, like run a Fortune 500 company or be a high-powered attorney. She’d be out in the world making her mark and people would say, ‘There goes Jessica Saunders. Look at her. So determined and talented, not to mention dressed to kill.’ Jessica Saunders had actually settled on going to law school, and had even scored in the top five percent in the country on her LSAT. But then she got married and she and Mike decided he should focus on his career first, since he already had his degree and only needed to sit for the exams to get his Chartered Professional Accountant designation. But then Winnie came along, followed by Noah, and pretty soon, she’d forgotten all about picking up her studies where she’d left off. That had happened so long ago, she completely forgot that she used to be thrilled by it all. Jess Saunders was one of those enthusiastic, take-life-by-the-horns sort of girls. The life of the party. She’d dance all night, she’d laugh all day. She was witty. Smart. Great at banter. People were drawn to her. She loved everything. Impromptu trip to Mexico? I’ll grab my passport. Sex? Yes, please. Plenty of it. Mountain mud pie with caramel sauce for dessert? Hand me a fork. Jess missed her. She really, really frigging missed her. She knew that impressive young woman was buried somewhere inside her. She must be there, right? So, where was she?
GIVEAWAY! Grand Gestures
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: With whiskey warming his belly and muddling his mind, signing up for a paintball session seemed like a great idea, in the light of day and with a pounding headache, not so much. He intended to argue his way out of the non-refundable fee he’d paid in his drunken state. Settling his sunglasses firmly over his eyes, Liam hauled his sorry ass out of the car. His back hurt, his head hurt, and his hands hurt. Fingering a fresh blister on the palm of his hand, he cursed himself for not wearing gloves at the batting cage the night before. He’d gone directly from the office to the sports field in Magnuson Park. For two hours, he’d slugged away at balls. Personal day. Liam had never taken a personal day. Other than dental and medical checkups, he never took a day off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything fun without Chuck. He’d whacked the ball time and time again, thinking about his best friend potentially getting his heart stomped on. Again. Worn out from swinging the bat, he’d stopped for booze and takeout, then headed home to stalk Jane Beckett online. Bullseye Paintball was located in an old salvage yard off Aurora. Whooping with glee, kids erupted out of SUVs and mini vans in the parking lot. Wincing at the noise, Liam made his way to the office and pulled open the heavy door. “What are you doing here?” Shit! Wearing black cargo pants tucked into combat boots and a black hooded sweatshirt, Jane Beckett lounged against the registration desk. She flicked her bangs out of her eyes with a toss of her head and smirked at him. “You’re not playing, are you?” Her dismissive tone rubbed against his raw nerves. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Sipping from a travel mug, Jane’s gaze roamed up and down his body, taking in his khaki shorts, fresh white collared shirt, and sneakers. Her lips twitched. “Oh, no reason at all.” The door opened, and the small office filled with kids, backing Liam into a corner and saving him from having to reply. Jane shifted her attention to the kids and raised her arms in the air. “Who’s ready to have fun?” she yelled. “Yay!” the kids replied at the top of their lungs. “Who’s ready to get dirty?” They yelled louder. “Who’s ready to plant a garden?” The kids looked confused. “I’m just messing with you!” Jane grinned and opened the door to the playing field. “Head out and find Jason. He’s going to fit you with safety equipment and guns.” The kids stampeded out, leaving two dads dressed in camo-chic, looking both excited and nervous. One of whom wore an air cast on one leg. “Oh dear,” Jane said, “you’re not going to be able to play with that.” The man in the cast replied, “Stan and I discussed strategy. I figured I’d prop myself up in a corner and shoot from behind cover.” “Yeah,” Stan said. “You and I can run and juke, draw their fire, and Carl can pick them off. He can as well.” He looked toward Liam. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Whose dad are you?” Three pairs of inquisitive eyes turned toward him. “Nobody’s. I’m not part of the party.” He felt like a fool. How the hell to get out of this while saving face? “Liam’s never played before. He’s here to scout the place for a team-building event for his company.” Carl and Stan nodded at Jane’s remarks. Liam shot her a quick smile of thanks. Then she cocked one hip, crossed her arms, and threw him under the bus. “We’ve got tactical gear you can borrow for firsthand experience, Mr. Cross. How about it?” “Yeah,” Carl said. “You’ll be able to see how much fun it is. And help us out. There’s twelve of them, and with my bum leg, they’ll make mincemeat out of us.” Stan nudged Carl’s shoulder. “Don’t scare him.” He turned to Liam. “It won’t be that bad. The girls are experienced. We’ll tell Jessica, that’s our daughter, to tell them to go easy on you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Liam caught the grin Jane was attempting to hide behind her hand. Great. She was laughing at him. There was no way he could get out of this and still keep his man card. “I’m in.” He extended his hand to Carl but glared at Jane. Thirty minutes later, he found himself cowering behind a stack of wooden pallets with a barrage of paintballs coming at him. What the holy hell?! This was not fun. This was terrifying. He looked back and spotted Carl wedged between empty oil drums, cackling maniacally as paintballs pinged off the metal. What was wrong with these people?
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Stars At Dusk by Sky Gold (The Sable Riders, 2) #Paranormal Romance @Xpresso Book Tours12/4/2023
Stars At Dusk
-- EXCERPT: ‘You know Shadow, Kage or whatever they call you -,’ she started. ‘Feels like I’m about to get a beating,’ he drawled. ‘Out with it, Harlow.’ ‘Fine. I’m still pissed off that you didn’t announce yourself earlier. I find it rude that you were hanging around while I was on my date.’ ‘Excuse my efforts in keeping you safe from unknown threats,’ Kage rumbled with a glimmer in his eye. ‘Why so peeved? Was he your boyfriend?’ She narrowed her eyes at him, neither denying nor confirming his speculation. ‘You don’t need a boyfriend,’ he drawled on, unconcerned. ‘Specially one who’s such a controlling toxic asshole. What you need is a man. Who’s secure enough to appreciate your beauty as it is and let you eat in peace.’ Harlow’s head swivelled, and she nailed him with a long, unsettling look. ‘Is that right?’ ‘Tis, and you know it,’ the man muttered smartly. Harlow stopped what she was doing and pointed her finger at Kage. ‘Yet another man telling me who I should be and how I should think.’ ‘Cept he was wrong, and I’m right.’ Suddenly Harlow felt the same emotion that had consumed her at the restaurant wash over her again. She was unable to stop the rush of words out of her mouth. ‘Why do you men always claim to be arrogantly right? That’s why I’m done with you all.’ Kage paused mid-beer pull. He cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘All men?’ ‘All! I made myself a promise tonight, no men for a very long time.’ ‘How long?’ he taunted, his eyes narrowing. ‘As long as it bloody takes. Forever if necessary.’ He gave her a speculative look. ‘You won’t last long,’ he drawled. ‘And how would you know?’ ‘Because you’re one hella beautiful woman. You deserve the best loving.’ ‘There you go. Judging me and my happiness by my looks.’ ‘I wouldn’t dare.’ ‘You just did, though. You said I’m -,’ Harlow paused, suddenly nonplussed as she realised the full force of his unexpected compliment. ‘- Beautiful.’ ‘That’s coz you are. And smart from the looks of things.’ He settled deeper into the couch, a smirk playing on his lips.
GIVEAWAY! Love on Target
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: To make sure she hadn’t lost the skill, she arranged the cans on fence posts on either side of the heart she’d painted on the bark, took out her pistol, moved back several yards, and loaded rounds into the cylinder. After widening her stance, she lined up her first shot, released a breath, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet pinging the target rang out as the can flew backward off the post. Rena shot the remaining cans, then smiled with satisfaction as she climbed over the fence to retrieve them. She set them back up on the posts, and rested for a minute on the top pole of the fence, face turned to the sunshine as she soaked up the warmth. Then she hopped down and riddled the cans full of more holes before she stowed her gun in the gun belt and draped it over a fence post. Reverently, she lifted the pistol with the delicate pink handle from where she’d set it on a stump. “Promise of true love,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb over the handle before she loaded five shots in the revolver and took aim at the target she’d painted. “True love. What an absurd notion. Laura really should mind her own business and cease meddling in mine. If she thinks this gun will lead me to romance, she needs to have her thinker checked for defects. Instead of dreaming of true love, setting love on a target seems like a much better idea.” She blasted five holes in the middle of the white circle she’d painted inside the heart on the slab of bark, taking a great deal of satisfaction in blasting holes into something that represented romance and love, at least in her mind. “Now that’s some fine shooting, Miss Burke.” Rena yelped in surprise and spun around, the pistol still in her hand, as she pointed it at the intruder who dared to interrupt her target practice.
GIVEAWAY! Through the Veneer of Time
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: His words were a blast that made something inside me snap. Why couldn’t I unlock my eyes from his? Unclench my knees despite an unbearable compulsion to run? I dug my fingernails into my sweaty palms to break the paralysis, drove the graphite shards into my flesh. “Do you ever wonder what becomes of your characters?” His vacuous smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What comes after your painstaking freeze-frame? Your warrior—” He pointed his chin at the mural. “He’s cocky, but he doesn’t know what he’s riding into. Yet hours from now, he could be lying in some field, stripped of his weapons, bleeding out into the ground as the vultures peck at his baby blues.” His eyes widened. “Leaving his beautiful young widow all alone.” His impossibly soft voice was a ringing blow in my ears. A tremor braced my throat. I drew a frantic breath against it. “I’m sorry,” I squeezed out, “I’m not sure I follow.” “I’m sure you do.” He chuckled. “But don’t look so stricken, Siena Forte. It’s only a painting, a fantasy. Nothing more.” “Excuse me…” I edged past him, cold all over. I rushed into the nearest restroom, tossed the broken graphite into the trash can, and locked myself in a stall. I hugged myself. Tight. Tighter. Gasped for air, not drawing any. My vision swam at the edges. Flickering. Fading. My heart thudded, and breath came faster in my chest, choking me. Fragments of his words whirred around me, and I grasped my head to stop the awful cacophony. But it wouldn’t stop. The image he drew cut like a knife, piercing through something soft and vulnerable inside. Something I’d buried deep down and wished to keep that way. But he’d driven it to the surface and laid it out in the open, raw and exposed. Someone entered the restroom, and I froze at the squeak of the adjoining stall door. But it was only a pair of black pumps through the divider gap. Heartbeat in my ears, I dropped the toilet lid and sat down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. Worgen was a narcissistic egomaniac, pissed off at not getting his way. Certainly, he could neither read my mind nor know anything about my visions. He was messing with me. Of course, he was! Pygmalion was a mythical sculptor, whose ivory creation came to life after he’d fallen in love with her. And here I was, a female artist, painting a man. As for the widow, it wasn’t a big leap to imagine a handsome warrior leaving a young wife at home. Worgen didn’t have to know about me to understand this mental image would upset me. I couldn’t tell how long I stayed in the restroom, but I emerged more determined than ever to continue with my project. I only needed to go outside and get some fresh air first. But Worgen was still there, talking to a visitor, and the only way out was past him. I clenched my jaw and went toward them.
GIVEAWAY! Social Vampire
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Taking my first bite of Pop-Tarts, I turned to head inside, but froze in my tracks when I heard something that made my teenage ears perk up. “Hi, I’m Emily,” said one voice. “Kimberly,” said the second. “Gordon!” said Dad. Girls. I quickly chewed up and swallowed the dry mouthful of toaster pastry before dumping the rest inside the top drawer of Dad’s tool chest. He only ever called me “Gordon” if he was specifically trying not to embarrass me (as I generally loathed nicknames), or if I were in trouble. This situation felt like it might be a bit of both. Indeed, if Dad wasn’t calling me “Gordy,” that could only mean one thing. As I rounded the column of stacked boxes, the girls coming into view, my suspicions were confirmed. Yep, they were cute. They wore matching soccer uniforms, long hair pulled back into ponytails: one blonde and the other brunette. Grass-stained white and red Bozeman Hawks jerseys, athletic shorts, knee-high socks. They carried their cleats with laces tied together and slung over their respective shoulders. On their feet, they wore slip-on toeless athletic sandals; socks still dirty from practice. The blonde carried a soccer ball in the crook of her arm and eyed me cautiously. “We came by because we heard there was a new kid,” her counterpart said. A range of responses fired across my synapses. I could:
I went with the third option. Hey, when you’re fourteen (or fifteen, or fourteen, again), the presence of a pretty girl will often sever the connection between brain and mouth. And two pretty girls? No chance of intelligent discourse whatsoever. “Do you play soccer?” the one with the ball asked. One-track mind. Boy, did I want to say yes. I didn’t play soccer, not in the slightest, but couldn’t I say yes anyway, then spend all weekend learning how to play? How hard could it be? She didn’t ask if I played soccer well, and it would still be mostly true, if I intended to play soccer, right? I mean, I literally knew how to kick a ball…. The words leapt into my throat, ready to scream, “Yes! I love soccer! Gooooo¬aaaa-aaaaa¬lllll!!!!!” But something more powerful overrode the system—my inability to lie. “Uh, no,” I said. “Sorry.” The blonde made a forced, toothless smile—more like a grimace—and looked down at the garage floor in disappointment. Strike one! Swing and a miss! (This is what’s called “mixing your metaphors” but, hey, I said I didn’t know anything about soccer). “Well, do you, umm, like to read? We’re in a book club,” the brunette said. “Yes!” I said, a little too excitedly. Then I gathered myself and asked, “What are you reading?” “RMH:VA…again,” she said with a giggle. “R-M…V?” I asked. I didn’t get the joke. “Rocky Mountain High: Vampire Academy,” her friend explained. My mind searched for recognition. Where had I heard that before? It took a second, but the book cover from the truck stop rack flashed to mind just as the brunette continued. “We’re re-reading the first five books just in time for the new release. Red Moon Yellowstone is supposedly where the love triangle really gets interesting. Sorry, fangirling here. Anyway. Do you want to read with us?” the brunette asked, her voice lilting up at the end of the question. Hopeful. I cringed deeper, collapsing into internal despair, trying not to answer. But the words came; painfully extracted like I was in the dentist’s chair. “No,” I said, honestly. They shared matching frowns this time. Penalty flag! Punted that one deep offside, or whatever. “So, what do you do?” the blonde asked, no longer trying to hide her contempt.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Grudge by Doreen McMillan #Mystery #Romance #Thriller #Young Adult @Xpresso Book Tours7/4/2023
Grudge
-- EXCERPT: Laurel sat there quietly eyeing him. “Is that so?” she said after a moment. Something tugged inside her. The way he stood there looking at her with his autumn green eyes stirred up a tingling feeling. She had to look away from him. “I just got in,” she said. “I didn’t want to get out yet, you know. I was trying to relax.” Without thinking about it, she rubbed the side of her neck. Jace grinned at her and nodded. “I guess that explains why you were twisting your shoulders. I thought you might have been dancing but you had a pained look on your face.” “Pained?” “Am I wrong?” Laurel rolled her eyes and then slid down further into the hot tub. “I’m sorry you wasted your time. You could have called or sent me a text…unless you deleted me from your contacts.” He chuckled, not moving his gaze from her face. “You’re like a flower with thorns,” he said. Laurel cracked a smile. “That sounded like a compliment.” “It was meant to be.” Jace couldn’t take his eyes off her. Laurel held his gaze. The way he looked at her made her heart beat faster. There was an intensity in his eyes that made her catch her breath. As she glanced away, she noticed the tattoo on his wrist. She became more aware of his strong-looking arms, and how they would feel massaging her shoulders. It was as if her eyes had spoken when he came close until he was standing directly behind her. Then without saying a word, he put his hands on her bare shoulders. She didn’t flinch or move. Every muscle in her body welcomed his touch. There was no resistance. He moved his fingers with a deftness that made her feel she was melting inside. His thumbs gently rubbed over her aching muscles. The moisture from the water made his hands feel soft and slick on her skin. She was enjoying the sensation of his hands on her as the aches in her muscles lessened as he continued to rub the sides of her neck and onto her shoulders. She closed her eyes when she felt him lower his face close enough, so the tip of his nose gently pressed against her skin. She was intoxicated by the warmth of his skin touching the side of her neck…
GIVEAWAY! Mid Flight
-- EXCERPT: Wordlessly, Lexi grabbed her purse and darted for the exit. She needed to see it. She had to know for sure. The midnight sky was pierced by jagged red veins. A thousand burgundy fingers tore through the stratosphere like lightning etched in the wrong color. Puffs of smoke dotted the horizon, mushroom clouds rising toward the ominous red ether. From the descriptions and images in Lexi’s VirtuAlarms, it appeared Santa Fe had gotten off easy. Other cities looked like they’d been struck by an atomic bomb. The world was blazing. The sky was breaking apart in pieces. AutoScan—Jorge Rodrigues, I didn’t see your texts ‘til just now. They’re grounding all planes immediately? Scary stuff. Wish I was there with you. Where’s your plane landing? With a rapid-fire double blink, Lexi sent the message. Jorge’s response flitted across Lexi’s cornea. His words felt frantic. Can’t get down. Capitol Hill is burning. Dense population, nowhere to land. 80 miles from Dulles Airport. I don’t think we’ll make it. Lexi read the last sentence and crumbled. She fell to her knees on the hot New Mexico concrete, sirens blaring in the distance and meteors crashing to the ground with a fiery scarlet vengeance. “No,” she begged the universe. “Please, no.” Her vision blurred. Lexi ached to rip her skin off her body, inch by inch, melting into a heap of exposed veins. It was so enticing. She wanted it so badly. It was what she deserved, truly. She should’ve been on that airplane with Jorge. Self-reproval flitted through her mind on an endless loop. Should have, should have, should have, you worthless idiot. She gasped for air. AutoScan—Colin Brennan, dial right now, she instructed, calling her brother via electrical impulses connected to her cranium. Five beeps sounded in her ear, then the line went dead. Tears rolled down Lexi’s cheeks as she mentally composed another note to her best friend at SkyLine. AutoScan—Jorge Rodrigues, don’t talk that way. You will land safely. Reagan International probably has space for diverted aircraft. You’ll be fine. I promise. As she waited for Jorge’s reply, she dug her nails into her leg, reopening the wound on her thigh. She picked at it, forcing the gash to widen. It was the size of a dime, then a quarter. She kept pulling, peeling, exposing her insides. She wanted her entire soul to leak out. “Don’t leave me, Jorge,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare leave me.” Colin tried to leave all the time. Lexi couldn’t handle another loss. She needed Jorge. He was her partner in crime, her other half. He was the best thing about being a flight attendant. Words appeared in front of Lexi’s eyeball. Her chest tightened. I don’t think we— Jorge began. “What?” Lexi murmured aloud. Her hands fell to her sides, limp. “What is it, J.R.?” Lexi craned her neck toward the red-streaked sky. She shouted, pleaded, implored her buddy bidder to write back. She wanted to hear details about his safe landing, after the pilots found an open runway someplace in Maryland. Arms clasped around Lexi’s waist, dragging her back into the restaurant. She kicked and screamed, fighting to stay outside. She wanted the sky to collapse on her and drag her into the deep black unknown. She didn’t deserve the safety of four solid walls and a roof. She didn’t deserve to be in a city that had received minimal damage from the celestial hellfire. Lexi began to chuckle as she was forced back inside the restaurant. She could barely breathe from laughing so hard. Through narrowed eyelids, Lexi saw customers and staff staring at her in disbelief. She continued flailing her limbs. She laughed with all her might, a deep guttural guffaw that echoed through the bar. When a VirtuAlarm informed Lexi that two planes in the Northeast had been struck down, she was convinced she’d dreamt the whole thing. The aircraft she was supposed to be on that night had not burst into flames. No way, no how. Jorge was not dead. Lexi would wake up soon, she knew. She would call him. They’d talk about her silly nightmare, her tendency to imagine the worst possible scenario, her bizarre fear of erupting into laughter during a moment of crisis. Lexi would wake up and chat with Jorge for hours. And she would not swap out of their next scheduled airline trip.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Embers of Mercy (Ember Glen 3) by Brynn Ford #Dark Romance @Xpresso Book Tours4/4/2023
Embers of Mercy
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