#Book Blitz #Infala: The Alien’s Bond by Kira Quinn (Mark of the Infala, 1) @Xpresso Book Tours31/10/2023
Infala: The Alien’s Bond
-- EXCERPT: Strangely, Darla found herself a bit torn as they trekked out of the village. Sure, Zepharos had a bit of a reputation. Okay, a lot of a reputation, but who didn’t? And who was she to judge without having all of the details firsthand? And it was nice having someone show such interest in her. Then again, she had also been given that warning from someone who had nothing whatsoever to gain from it. Rohanna was just doing her a solid, as far as she could tell. But damn, he was one sexy son of a bitch. And unlike Heydar, Zepharos was actually available. Available and interested. Ugh. This is all just so messed up. She adjusted the small pack she had been given as she walked, the pressure of the straps annoying her tender shoulders. Heydar had taken care to ensure it was not overloaded, taking all the heavier items in his own backpack, sparing her newly inked skin from the inevitable abrasions and sweat it would otherwise cause. Even so, she felt her skin drying out as the pigment set in. And boy was it itching. A lot. “Do not scratch,” Heydar said as she finally gave in to the urge. “You must let the pigment bond uninterrupted for it to properly take hold.” “Yeah, I know, but it’s annoying.” “As is complaining,” he shot back. Darla flashed an angry glare his way, and amazingly, it seemed to land. Heydar hesitated, stopping in his tracks. “Very well. Drop your pack and come here.” She did so, more because the straps were itchy as hell than from a desire to do as he asked. In any case, that one action alone provided a modicum of relief. Heydar’s own pack remained on his broad shoulders, riding there as easily as if it was weightless to the massive alien. He stepped to her and took her arms one at a time, surveying the condition of her newly inked skin. He nodded, satisfied, then unceremoniously lifted her top, surveying his work, tracing his fingers over the rapidly healing designs. He followed one of them up her flank, curving along the side of her breast where it rose to her collarbone. Darla’s nipples had gone hard the second he had lifted her top, the skin straining and tight in the open air. Heydar didn’t seem to notice, but as his fingers followed the line higher, his thick wrist grazed the erect nub, sending a wild, electric buzz directly to her clit. Darla forced down a gasp, clenching her teeth and flexing her legs and abs hard to remain in control. This was something new. She’d always had sensitive breasts, and she’d loved nipple play as long as she could remember, but this? This was a whole new level. It was like walking around resonating like a goddamn tuning fork. Is it always going to be like this now? ‘Cause I don’t know if I’ll ever get anything done if it is. She let out her breath, willing her pulse to slow. Heydar looked at her curiously. “Are you ill? You look as though you may faint. Do you need to sit?” Darla blushed. “I’m fine. Can we just get on with it?” “In a moment,” he replied, turning her to study the ink on her back and hips. “Your pigment is settling in much faster than normal. How very unusual.” “Good unusual, though, right? Not something bad.” “It is not bad. Just something I have not encountered in my years. The pigment is not only binding to your flesh, it is thriving, starting to move on its own.” “What does that mean?” “I told you the pigment is a living reservoir of power. It becomes a symbiotic part of your body in time, even shifting to form new runes, allowing you to tap into the galaxy’s power.” “Okay, you already mentioned that before.” “I did. But this process normally takes time. And you, my unusual human, are already showing progress most do not see for months if not years. It is no wonder your flesh itches as it does.” He slid the pack off his shoulders and dug inside. A moment later he produced a small tin with a painted lid. He popped it open revealing a thick salve of some sort. A musky-sweet aroma wafted from the container. “What is it?” “Gorram extract,” he said, scooping out a dollop with his long fingers. “Hold still, this will not take long.” “What won’t?” He ignored the question and began applying the substance to her tattoos, first the tender lines on her hips, tracing his way up her flanks and in along her interwoven back designs. The relief was almost instant and the Gorram extract was greedily absorbed by her healing skin. “Interesting,” he muttered. “What?” “You are taking it in much faster than I have ever seen. Normally, this merely sooths the itch, providing a healing, moisturizing coating to the decorated flesh. But in your case, it is almost instantly drawn in.” “What does that mean?” “It is nothing to cause concern. Gorram is used by the pigment as an alternate food and energy source while it is completing its bonding with your own body. Part of that process is what you feel in your skin.” “The moving feeling?” “Yes.” “That bit’s weird, I have to admit.” “The shifting of the pigment to form and reinforce the runes that are most in tune with your own physiology is unique to every individual. Normally, it moves very slowly. In your case, however, the pigment is quite active. You are already forming power runes in your designs, and not just the weak trace beginnings.” “So, that’s good, right?” “Yes. It just normally takes much longer.” “I’ve always been a fast learner.” “Apparently so. It is no wonder your skin is sensitive,” he said, applying more of the Gorram extract, tracing the lines with his fingertips. Whether or not he knew just what his touch was doing to her she couldn’t tell, his face was neutral even as he gently rubbed the substance into her skin. He finished with her back, switching to her flanks and frontal hip bones, then working up, following the different colored lines and designs as they traced her musculature, curving under her breasts and up to her collars and shoulders again. Darla’s body felt absolutely electrically charged and for just a moment she wanted nothing more than for his hands to grab her breasts and pull her close, giving her nipples a delicious squeeze as her bliss crested like a tidal wave. Heydar, however, merely continued the process, tracing back down between her breasts, over her breastbone and finally stopping just below her bellybutton. “Your body is exceptional,” he said. “Why, thank you,” she replied, a fine sweat on her brow. “I guess you could say—” “Or a freak of nature,” he cut her off. “Time will tell.” He sealed the tin and placed it in her hand. “I will leave the application on your legs to you when we stop next. The sensation will lessen as your pigment settles, but for the time being it will continue to itch. Use the Gorram sparingly though. That is a normal supply for the entire healing process, but it appears your pigment would take it all in one sitting if given the opportunity.” Darla was still tingling with arousal, and apparently the Gorram was fueling it further. But it was also reducing the itch, so it was an acceptable trade off, even if the gorgeous man in front of her was ignorant to her primed body. “Thanks. I’ll be okay for now,” she said. “I am pleased to hear it. Now, let it heal, and do not scratch.” “I’ve got it.” “Very well,” he said, shouldering his pack once more. Darla picked up hers as well, the straps far less uncomfortable now. She felt his stare and turned to meet his curious gaze. He held it for a long moment, and she could have sworn there was maybe at least a hint of interest there. But with an alien, who could tell? In any case, a moment later he turned and continued their trek. What is up with this guy? Darla wondered, falling in behind him. And what’s going to happen to me? 
GIVEAWAY! --
Touch of a Witch
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: She dreams she is in a forest of pine at night, walking barefoot on the cold, soft earth. A full moon glimmers through the branches of the oaks overhead, brushing silver hues across everything it touches, and a stream trickles lazily beside her – she seems to be following its path upstream, searching for the source, and despite the darkness, she finds her way easily, unafraid. In time she comes to a clearing where the stream begins, emerging from an outcrop of rocks to spill into a pool that fills before it overflows and runs off along its way. Stepping out of her shift, she slides into the water and lowers herself down until the surface laps around her shoulders. It is cool and clear and sweet, and she is tempted to submerge herself, to give herself to the sacred water and stay in this place always. Then, one by one, four men approach to stand at the edge of the pool, one at each point of the compass. She feels no shame at her nakedness before them, no fear, content and at ease in the pure crystal water. She has no doubt this is where she is meant to be. Wheeling slowly, the rock hard and smooth beneath her legs, she regards each of them in turn. As she turns, each man holds out a hand to beckon her to them, and she sees then that they too are naked. She goes first to stand before her father, out of habit of respect and obedience, and he speaks to her, though with no voice she can hear with her ears. Bride thou shalt be, obedient daughter of Christ. Placing one hand on her shoulder, and the other on her breast, he rests them there until she steps away and drops back into the water to wash herself free of the taint of his touch. Then she turns to Simon. Wife thou shalt be, loving mother of children, though none of mine. He too places one hand on her shoulder and one on her breast, until she slips away from his touch also to rinse herself clean in the pool. Then she goes to Tom, whose skin is taut and pale in the moonlight: his nakedness before her quickens her breath. He steps closer. Lover thou shalt be, spirit of the earth. For a long moment she waits before him, and when finally he lifts his hand to her breast, she gasps as a charge fires between them. She steps closer, her breasts pressing against his ribs and his member hard against her belly. Desire flares through her before he takes her hand in his and leads her to Nick. She waits, drinking in the beauty of the man who stands before her, his muscles strong and vivid in the silver light. Mistress thou shalt be, if thou so wills it. He reaches for her hands and lifts them to his lips, drawing her closer in towards him. Then she stands against him, and with his touch to her breast, she feels herself begin to fall, floating and free.
GIVEAWAY! --
Magic Medicine
-- EXCERPT: The knife had penetrated his chest to its hilt, and while the paramedics were desperately trying to save him, I knew this one was long gone. The grey cloud of death covered him, the soulless body bouncing rhythmically during the chest compressions. He had no chance, but I couldn’t tell my team their efforts were pointless. There was no science to back up my claim, so medical training kicked in and, taking a deep breath, I issued the order. ‘Stop chest compressions.’ ‘No, he has no pulse.’ The paramedic tried to argue, instantly making me wish Damian and Rysiek were here, but one look at my face and his voice faltered. ‘He’s running on empty. How do you plan on restarting an engine without fuel?’ I said and turned to the team. ‘Secure the airway, prepare O neg and get me a thoracotomy set. We need to crack him open to plug this hole in his heart.’ Like a Formula One pit crew, my team was ready in less than a minute. Pride surged at their response as I bent over to start the incision when the patient’s bright blue eyes snapped open in surprise, and a cold, male hand grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip. ‘Oh, hell no, you are not doing that.’ His voice was cold and commanding, and the man, about to be opened up like a giant clamshell, sat up, the dagger still fully embedded in his chest. What the actual fuck, I thought, looking at him in shock. It is one thing to feel like there is more to the world than science can explain and a whole other one to stare at this discovery in its smugly amused face. ‘Did you just pull a Lazarus on me?’ I heard myself saying, despite my voice being drowned out by screams of terror and the clattering of fallen medical equipment. I didn’t care. Why would my attention be anywhere other than the talking corpse before me? Maybe years of conditioning, medical missions to war-torn countries and stories my grandmother told me; stories that had suddenly become very real prepared me for it because I was as calm as he was dead. I will never break a fucking mirror on the full moon again, I thought, observing him as he looked around, his gaze eventually falling on me. ‘Pulled a what?’ He asked, still holding tight to my wrist, and for no apparent reason, I reached out with my free hand, pulling the knife from his chest. Some say emergency people are built differently, and while I still could barely believe what just happened, part of me methodically analysed the situation. This man was definitely alive, yet no blood escaped the wound, and I bit my lip, trying to comprehend the insanity. He didn’t even wince when I examined the gaping hole, poking it with an inquisitive finger. He just looked on with impatient annoyance, utterly unphased, before asking again. ‘I pulled a what?’ The knife in my hand looked odd. I’d seen my fair share of weapons, combat, folding, and kitchen knives, but this was different. It was vibrating… no. Looking carefully, it didn’t move, but something felt… tension. That was it. It felt as if it were under tension, like the cable on a bridge or, more accurately, a string on a bow, ready to release its murderous power, aimed at this man before me. In fact, it refused to be pointed anywhere else. Nothing about this blade was normal. Ornate Slavic engravings adorned the metal that, whilst bright and clean, felt like it belonged in a museum. I had to resist the urge to stab it back into the gaping hole in the man’s chest. I wasn’t sure whether the knife was driving the desire or my curiosity at seeing the strange man’s reaction. Then, the real, screaming, noisy world crashed into my consciousness, and I focused on answering his question. ‘Did you just resurrect on me, like Lazarus, or maybe Jesus would be more accurate as nobody here helped you? What the fuck are you, a zombie, vampire, or something else that sparkles?’ My rambling question made the very alive man laugh. ‘Yeah, or something. Now, be a darling and give me the dagger. It still wants my life, and I see you are keen to give in to the temptation.’ He commanded, looking into my eyes as if trying to reach into the depths of my soul, but his five minutes were gone. My anger broke through the shock of the situation. Now he faced a very focused woman with a powerful urge to tear him a new one… newer than the one that brought him here, anyway. ‘Pack it in, Romeo. First, the dagger is evidence, and second, I’m not your darling, so you can stop trying to make puppy eyes at me. I’ve seen this constipated look far too many times. That is borderline creepy. Who, or should I say, what, are you?’
GIVEAWAY! --
Love You Right
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play FREE October 23-November 27, 2023 Series Prequel LOVE YOU WRONG is also free. Whispersync the audio for $7.49 -- EXCERPT: “Kell,” she whispered against his mouth. “Thank you.” “For what?” “For this.” She motioned at the romantic dinner he’d created for the two of them, the wide table in this conference room an ample spread for a… Ample spread. “We haven’t even had dinner. Thank me after.” She batted her eyelashes. “Is that an offer?” “Rachel,” he said, moving his hand from her waist to cup her ass. “That’s more than an offer.” He started to kiss her again, but she put her fingers on his lips. “If we don’t eat dinner first, we’ll never eat. And I have a meeting here in this very room, to try to pitch the deal again, in three days. Boundaries, Kell – boundaries. I refuse to have sex on this conference table.” “The thought never, ever occurred to me,” he lied. “Liar.” “Caught.” With a deep laugh he adored, she reached for the bottle of wine. “How about you uncork this and we start with a lovely glass.” “Fine. The table is off the table.”
GIVEAWAY! --
How it All Began
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “Who is that?” Cat asked, peering out the front window as she pinned the foil in Mrs. Bergstein’s hair. “And what do I have to do to get my fingers in that hair?” “I love his cut,” Daisy said. “Don’t you just love it? I wonder who did it.” “Forget his cut. Look at his jaw. And those arms. I bet those could keep me warm all night.” Farrah smiled to herself as she swept her area, but said nothing. He’d put some kind of product in it that was making it look even more tousled than she’d intended, and it was definitely working for him. She’d have to find out what he’d used. Farrah glanced at the clock: it was 3:55. She took off her apron and washed her hands in the sink; they were feeling rough. She really needed to invest in some gloves or something if she was going to be holding hands with this guy more in the near future…and it seemed like a real possibility. More nerves bubbled in her stomach as she checked herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair. “I’m off. See you all Monday.” “Wait,” Cat said, “is that…are you…that stud muffin is yours?” she called after her as the door swung shut. “Farrah!” “Hi,” she greeted Evan shyly, and he grinned. “I think your boss was trying to get your attention…” Farrah waved a hand. “She’s fine. They’ll just hound me for details on Monday, anyway, and I’ll have more to tell them then.” She leaned forward, hesitated, then gave him a peck on the cheek, if only to stake her claim with the other stylists. Mine. And yes, I gave him a bodacious haircut. His sunglasses reflected her smile back. “In that case, ready to go? Turns out the shop is just down the street.” “Sure!” He held out his arm, and she took it gladly as they started off. They walked in pleasant silence for a few minutes until Evan dropped her arm and turned to her. “Okay, I can’t take it anymore. Was it Hairway to Heaven?” Farrah blinked. “What?” “Your name! The better name for the salon! Was it Hairway to Heaven? Or maybe Whole Lotta Styling Going On?” She snickered. “What? No!” “The Braidy Bunch?” Farrah rolled her eyes and resumed walking. “That is the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” “Oh, I’ve got lots more. Vanity Hair? Blown Away? Ahead of Hair Time?” “Stop,” Farrah giggled, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him close, matching his long strides. But the man just kept going. “A Cut Above. Fringe Benefits. Thy Kingdom Comb.” The giggles were now uncontrollable, and she felt tears of laughter at the corners of her eyes. “Curl up ‘n Dye! Mane Attraction! A Cut Above!” “You already did that one,” Farrah wheezed, holding her stomach, barely able to get the words out for laughing so hard. “Well, I can’t help it! I have to know! Please, please put me out of my misery and—” “All right, all right,” she said, wiping the tears from her face, aware that her mascara was now running. “My goodness. It’s…” She’d never told anyone her plans for the salon, not even her mom, and she told her pretty much everything. But Evan wasn’t going to judge her, she didn’t think. And hopefully, he’d be kind if he didn’t like it. “It’s Shear Brilliance,” she said, just as they came to a stop outside a bridal shop. Evan stared at her for a long moment, blinking slowly, then finally said, “That is genius.” “You really like it?” “No, I adore it. It’s perfect. Far better than what I came up with. You’ve got a flair for this, Farrah. And it’s going to look great printed on your business cards when you give Harry a stack for his friends.” Farrah rolled her eyes as she pulled open the front door. “You never stop, do you?” Evan grinned. “You should see me in the off-season when I don’t have water polo to tire me out. I’m like a human pinball machine.” 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #A Patch of Romance (A Coffee Break Mystery 4) by J.C.Valentine @Xpresso Book Tours25/10/2023
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A Patch of Romance
-- EXCERPT: “Okay, you wild banshees, costumes are ready to go!” I called up the stairs. Instantly, I heard the pounding of little feet as Lily and Ethan raced down the stairs, with Lily predictably in the lead, eager to transform into their Halloween alter-egos. “Beware the Headless Horseman!” Lily cried, tossing her hooded cape dramatically over her grinning face. Next to her, Ethan was assembling his white boxy Minecraft costume, complete with pixelated foam sword. I knelt down and made the final adjustments, securing Ethan’s headpiece and Lily’s belt, then ushered them toward the door. “Let’s hit those sidewalks before all the good candy is gone!” I declared. It was still light outside when we stepped out onto the porch. Ghosts, superheroes, princesses, and witches were already parading up and down the street as families got the trick-or-treating underway. The crisp air twinkled with magic and excitement as neighbors called out compliments on costumes, and I inhaled the heavenly, smoky scent of burning wood that several people were using to keep warm as they passed out candy. We weren’t far into our route when I heard rapid footsteps approaching. Lily and Ethan’s faces lit up as Scott and his son came into view dressed in matching blow-up dinosaur costumes. I couldn’t help laughing as I watched their giant dino heads bobble to and fro as they swished toward us. “Hey, guys!” Scott greeted, slightly out of breath. Since our pumpkin carving hangout, we’d been planning for the kids to do Halloween night trick-or-treating together too. I was relieved he was making it easy for me to take this second opportunity with no strings attached. “Dad, can we go show Ms. Molly our costumes?” Lily asked eagerly. I nodded indulgently, enjoying seeing my kids having a good time. After waiting a few moments for Lily, Ethan, and Stanley to run up the walkway to show off their costumes to their principal, we began a slow, easy walk from house to house, stealing pieces of candy here and there, as the kids ran back and forth down driveways and bonded with each other more. 
GIVEAWAY! --
The Vet’s Shelter Surprise
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “Alright. Follow me,” Mel said, leading Georgia down the bright hallway toward the back room. Time to see how she’d do with their resident reptiles. “Right in here,” she said, motioning to the open door at the end of the hall. “After you.” Heels clicking against the linoleum, Georgia breezed by, leaving the floral scent of her shampoo in her wake and causing Mel to take a deep breath before following her into the room. How was it that something as inane as hair soap could make her heartbeat rev up to double time, and make her palms sweat like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day? It really had been too long. Mel surveyed Georgia’s reactions as she walked between the reptile tanks, silently peering into each one with a curious expression. “Who’s this one? What’s his name?” she asked, pointing to the iguana. “That’s Sherbet. And she’s a she,” Mel said. “Okay. Cute. And who’s this?” Georgia pointed to the turtle. “That’s Pixie. Careful with that one. She almost took my finger off last time I fed her,” she said. She followed Georgia to the gecko tank. “Lollipop is the brown-and-white one, and Gummy Bear is the yellow one.” She waited for Georgia to approach the final tank, which housed a ball python snake named Slinky. Slinky was mellow and gentle, as well as nonvenomous, but Mel knew very few people who liked being in the presence of his sort. Time to see how much Georgia really wanted to volunteer at the shelter. To Mel’s surprise, Georgia scanned the tank and tapped quietly on the glass. “A snake,” she said matter-of-factly. “Slinky,” said Mel. Georgia was full of surprises, she was starting to realize. “Most people don’t want to go near him with a ten-foot pole.” “I lived outside the desert for a few years as a kid. Place was teeming with snakes,” she said. “Okay, next stop?” Her sparkling hazel eyes ratcheted up Mel’s heartbeat from double time to a full-on Ginger Rogers tap dance. Next stop was the bunny room. Mel was doomed.
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #Bourbon Street Bachelor (Broussard Brothers 3) by MMelissa Chambers @Xpresso Book Tours25/10/2023
Bourbon Street Bachelor
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: He narrowed his gaze. “I remember something from that night we first met.” She gave him a look like she was warning him not to go there, but there was also something in her eyes that told him to proceed forward. “We had a connection.” She gave him half a smile through pursed lips. “Oh, okay. Sure. Is this the same connection you have with those repeat customers you were talking about before?” “I think you felt it, too,” he said, taking a risk. “I was dating your brother at the time.” “I know. That’s why I excused myself from our conversation.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m not making this up. I felt something.” She rolled her eyes, and then gave him a look, trying to hold back a smile. “Didn’t you feel it, too?” he asked. “You’re calling me a cheater?” “It’s not cheating to feel a spark with someone else.” “With your boyfriend’s brother? I’d say it is,” she said. “Then would you say you cheated on Braxton?” She huffed a laugh. “You’re insane.” “I might be a little bit.” She shook her head at him. “I don’t know why you’re trying so hard here. I told you I’m a mess.” “Maybe that’s what I like about you,” he said. “Is that your thing? Fixing the wings of broken little birds?” He considered her. “I’m not aware that I have a thing. I just know I was really disappointed when you didn’t show up over there today.” She stared at him a bit longer and then stood up. “I think you should go.” He stayed seated, looking up at her, trying to stop himself from saying the next words that were begging to come out of his mouth, because he never did this, but he actually wanted to this time. “Let me take you on a date.” She motioned toward the door. “Go back to your party.” “I’m having way more fun here.” She rubbed her forehead. “Seriously, Quentin. Nothing ends well where I’m involved. Now’s your chance to run.” “What if I don’t want to?” “Mull this over. Think about it for a month. If after a month, you’re still interested, give me a call.” She held out her hand. “I’ll give you my number.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and handed it to her. She typed into it and then handed the phone back to him. “Now will you leave?” He looked down at the table like there were options for him sitting there. “What if I wanna call you tomorrow?” “One month. You can call me in one month and not a day before.” That actually worked out perfectly for him. He was getting ready to head back to Colorado for a few weeks to close up his business with his partner, Steve, and get the rest of his stuff moved back to New Orleans. This would give him something to look forward to when he got back to town. He stood up. “I guess I’ll take the deal.” She walked to the front door and opened it, standing with her hands behind her back, messing with the door knob, looking both confident and vulnerable all at the same time. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman more in his life, and he wasn’t about to wait a month to do it. He walked over to her, slid his hand around the back of her neck, and then planted one on her. She made a noise like she was taken by surprise, but then she settled in, sliding both of her hands into his hair. She pulled him to her as she settled against the door, perking up his midsection. He was about to sport wood right there on the streets of New Orleans. He pulled away while he still had control. She put her hand over her mouth, touching her fingertips to her lips like she was checking that they were still there. So it wasn’t just him who had felt chemistry like an erupting volcano. He leaned in. “How about you think about that for the next month.” He backed away, giving her one last glance before heading to his truck. How he was going to make it thirty days was beyond him.
GIVEAWAY! --
His Assistant’s New York Awakening
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Harlequin -- EXCERPT: The music slid over Damon Bradford’s skin like a lover’s caress. He sipped his cocktail, the smooth taste of gin lingering on his tongue. Better to focus on that then the slow, languid heat spreading through his veins as he watched her. The cellist. Music had never been an important part of his life. He knew the difference between classical and rock, paid hefty sums for bands and singers to perform at the various functions he hosted throughout the year. But the actual music had always been background noise. Whereas this…the rich, somber notes of her solo rising and falling with perfect precision, the languid tempo encouraging listeners to slow down, to forget the demands of life for just a moment… It was unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Just like the woman behind the cello was unlike anyone he had ever encountered before.
GIVEAWAY! --
Blood Mate
-- EXCERPT: He rose in a preternaturally fluid way and strode across the cellar floor. Nicole cowered, as if she had any hope of escaping him when she’d seen the futility of a powerful man’s attempt. She had nothing like the strength of that man, and now he was so much meat, waiting to be returned to the earth to fertilize something else. August took her hand more gently than she’d expected after what he’d done. She couldn’t stop shaking. “Please… please not me,” she whispered, her eyes focused on the ground. She couldn’t meet that terrifying, glowing gaze. Although a man had died, her thoughts and fears were for her own fate. His hand trailed through her hair. “Not you,” he agreed. “And not any of the rest of them if you’ll consent to what I propose. Their lives are in your hands, Nicolette.” She turned to the cages with four people still alive. They looked like prisoners of war. Shell-shocked. Almost like animals instead of people. “W-what do you mean their lives are in my hands?” Was this because she wouldn’t date him? He’d terrorize people until she did? Did he think she could ever love him amidst such conditions? What was wrong with him that he would become so fixated on her? Why her? Why not move on to someone else who returned his affection? Now that his looks were back, it was impossible to see how he couldn’t find someone to share his bed willingly. As long as they didn’t know the gory details. Those light hazel eyes glowing against the backdrop of warm, brown skin and jet-black hair. That tall, sleek athletic frame. Man-candy was the phrase her friends at work would have used. “Vampirism is a curse,” he said quietly. “It’s not like in the movies. I am made to suffer. If I don’t feed, I suffer until I do. Inevitably I must feed. When I feed, I can’t stop until my meal is dead. I must take one each night or what you saw happening to my body starts. At first I just age, but after about three days it turns into what you saw. I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I have no choice. Do you know the heavy weight that is on my soul? All those human lives?” “Why don’t you end your life, then? Is survival of such great value that you would kill every night to keep it going? Am I supposed to feel bad for you when you could greet the sun?” She ignored the fact that she’d first met him in the daylight. He smiled sadly. “Would that it were so simple and easily remedied. Do you think I haven’t tried? I’ve tried everything to end my life. Nothing works. I’m only allowed death if I should pass this curse to another. I wouldn’t die automatically, but I would be capable of it, at least. If I passed the cup to someone else and died, what new torments would await me on the other side for such a heinous sin against another soul? After what I’ve suffered, do you think I could bring myself to give it to another to carry? If I did, I truly am a monster with no further excuses.” Nicole’s gaze shifted to the cages. “I don’t understand how I can save them.” “By giving yourself to me.” 
GIVEAWAY! -- |
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