Heart Of Gold
-- EXCERPT: Life was good twenty-four hours ago. Was being the key word. Past tense. Simon Phillips knew this in his gut. Just as he knew everything since then had gone to hell somehow. Where am I? What happened? His muscles felt stiff where they rested on a hard, cold surface of some kind. Blinking rapidly, Simon opened his eyes against the blinding light overhead and inhaled a cinnamon sugar scent, thinking suddenly of the snickerdoodle cookies his grandmother had baked years ago. He detected something else as well. Is that tequila? The floor gleamed white beneath him. Simon recognized the Carrara marble and realized with sudden horror that he was in the executive bathroom at his law firm. While his brain urgently told him to move, his motor skills struggled to obey. The room spun when Simon finally pulled himself to his knees. He exhaled slowly and noticed the snickerdoodle-impersonating air freshener attached to the wall. More surprising still, the essence of Jose Cuervo clung to him like cheap cologne. Leaning his head against a nearby sink, Simon tried to remember. What’s with the booze? And why am I on the floor in my Tom Ford suit? Then, through the mental fog, the memories came flooding back in gruesome Technicolor. It can’t be true. Except that it was. “Shoot me now,” Simon muttered. “I’m as good as dead anyway.” Leonard Cronin walked through the door at that moment. “Would that I could oblige you but there are laws against that type of thing.”
GIVEAWAY! Licking Her Christmas Cookies
-- EXCERPT: “This is a bomb cookie,” I said happily, taking a picture of the finished dessert for Instagram. “I’m totally winning.” A shadow passed over my baking station, and the temperature dropped ten degrees. “This is your big plot to find my rent money?” I looked up into Matt’s icy blue eyes. “I have a multipronged approach.” “You need to get a real job,” he said curtly. “Running a Christmas ornament shop is not a real job, and neither is participating in a bake-off. You’re not winning, and you’re delusional if you think so.” “Neither are you,” I replied hotly. “They clearly just brought you on as the pretty face. Though why they bothered I’m not sure. Clearly, everyone is going to have eyes for Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Flannel over there.” “Brody?” Matt snarled. I laughed. “Isn’t he amazing?” I continued, needling Matt. As if he knew we were talking about him, Brody turned to catch me staring. I blew him a kiss, smirking when Matt growled in annoyance then swooning a little bit when Brody flexed his pec muscles at me. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. “It’s not even sanitary,” Matt hissed through his teeth. “Ooh, someone’s jealous!” “I’m not.” Matt slammed his hands down on my table. “Watch it!” I yelled. “You’re going to mess up my cookies. I don’t want your Christmas-hating cooties all over my dessert.” “Too late,” Matt said and picked up the cookie I had just spent ten minutes decorating. “Don’t you dare touch my cookies!” I shrieked. “A lot of women want me to touch their cookies,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Doubtful,” I retorted, grabbing across the table to the cookie. He held it aloft. “In fact, they want me to lick them.” “I swear I will have you gutted and stuffed as a Christmas tree ornament,” I warned. “So, you don’t want me to lick your cookies?” He gave me a smoldering glare. Lick my…oh…ohhh…shit. My face went hot under the stickers, glitter makeup, and hair spray. No. Yes. Maybe? No, Merrie, jeez! “I have standards,” I told him.” There’s only one man here who I’d want to lick my cookies, and it’s not you, so give me back that snowman.” “I’m supposed to be judging,” he retorted, “and I can’t do that without a taste test.” Then he licked my freaking Christmas cookie! Ten whole minutes of frosting work was gone. “You… you!” I sputtered. “I spent a million years decorating that.” He bit the head off the snowman then tossed it back on the platter. “That was actually pretty good for a Christmas cookie. I think I might have to lick your cookies again.” “You…” I wanted to curse him out, but we were on live TV, and this was supposed to be a family-friendly program. The cameramen, sensing drama like sharks sensed blood, were hovering around us. “You…doo-doo head!” Not as satisfying as calling him a fuckface asshole but it would have to do. Matt snorted. “I think you should stop wasting time on name-calling since you clearly suck at it and get back to baking.” He clapped his hands at me. “Chop chop.” Fuck this asshole. “Chop this!” I hollered, scooping out a handful of bright-red royal icing and throwing it at him. Matt cursed, for real, with multiple F-bombs because if you were some sort of moneyed Manhattan type, you did not care about ruining the sanctity of The Great Christmas Bake-Off.
GIVEAWAY! A Moment After Dark
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Addie Brandt can see the future with a touch. She’s had a horrific vision of an attack on Pearl Harbor. After failing to warn the police, she goes to a diner where her friend Rosa works and meets Jack Dunstan, who claims to be an insurance salesman, but is really a federal agent who’s Looking to recruit people with paranormal powers. “Your last name is Brandt?” Dunstan said. “That’s German, isn’t it?” Addie choked on a mouthful of minestrone. She remembered what Father had said about the growing animosity toward German Americans. “It might be,” she said warily. “Though I fail to see why my name should interest you.” “Because of that.” He stabbed a finger at his newspaper, and the headlines full of war news. “We’ll soon be in this war. People will have to choose a side. Are you one of those German nationalists who think Herr Hitler is the bee’s knees? Or are you red, white, and blue through and through?” Maybe just red, as in seeing red. This man’s impertinent questions had gotten her dander up. “You certainly are curious, Mr. Dunstan.” “I’m a curious fella, or so they say.” He flashed another boyish grin. “So, which side will you stand up for, Addie? Your ancestral people? Or will you help Uncle Sam win the fight that’s coming?” She put down her spoon, fully annoyed now. “Why don’t you take me downtown, officer, where you can grill me properly?” He laughed, a deep rumble, like a wave crashing into a cave. “Fair enough. I may be pushing too hard.” She should ignore him. He was rude and strange. Yet, something about this back and forth with him seemed to…irritate her, yes, but also excite her. Engage her. She’d never had a conversation like this with a man before. The few times she’d spoken with a man close to her age, the subject was a corpse. Certainly no man had ever asked for her opinion, about anything. “If I tell you where I stand, Mister Dunstan, do you promise to leave me alone?” “Doubtful.” Her lips twitched. “At least you’re honest. Well, then, speaking for my German side and my Irish side, and the American I’m proud to be, I don’t want us to fight at all. War means death and I hate death.” “That seems ironic, coming from a woman who works in a funeral home. You’re surrounded by death every day.” She blinked. “How do you know where I work?” “You have a chatty friend.” He tipped his head toward the kitchen window. Rosa bent down, bottom thrust out, yelling through the opening at Sal. “She tells me you see things.” Addie cringed. She’d told Rosa about the picture show that played in her head, but Rosa had never laughed or teased her about it. It stung to discover she’d been spreading gossip about her. “I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Addie said. “I’m sure I’m not. Rosa says you’ve seen her future. That you tried to save a boy’s life long ago. I know you tried to warn the police about something yesterday. Something bad. What was it, Addie? What did you tell them?” Addie pushed the minestrone away, no longer hungry. And no longer amused. “Mr. Dunstan, just what line of insurance are you in?” she asked, nearly breathless. He held out his hand. “Why don’t you find out?” She looked at his palm, crisscrossed with so many lines a palm reader could be employed for months studying them. What did he want her to see? Was it worth the risk? The terrible images of the Pearl Harbor attack had haunted her for days. Why would she touch him and invite yet another horrific Sight? “Addie, look at me,” he coaxed. She did, surprising herself. He held her in his gaze. “You can trust me.” His voice rolled over her in a gentle wave. Trust, a heavy word. She’d never allowed herself to trust anyone. Least of all a man she barely knew. And yet… She couldn’t deny she felt drawn to him. Felt at ease looking into his golden-brown eyes. Should she take the risk?
GIVEAWAY! Thank you to Rachel from Rachel's Random Resources for inviting me to participate in the blog tour for Blood Ties, the third instalment in Helen Atkinson's Gallowburn series. Blood Ties The Queen of Glasgow, Toni McVay, is no ordinary crime boss. For one thing, she likes to discipline disappointing employees by scooping out their eyeballs and keeping them as souvenirs. Jamie Gray and his gang the Blood Brothers are happy to do her dirty work in return for lessons in the ways of the local underworld, but are in no doubt that they need to keep Toni sweet to keep themselves safe. Rival families The Gordons and The Thompsons are ready for a turf war, keen to take over the lucrative Gallowburn estate, and weaken Toni’s grip on the city. But can the old enemies really trust each other enough to join forces? And will their assumption that the Blood Brothers are the weak link in the McVay empire, prove to be their greatest mistake? Meanwhile Jamie’s past refuses to stay hidden, and as his biggest secret looks set to be revealed with explosive consequences, Jamie faces the battle of his life. To keep his family safe, to keep his friends safe, to keep himself safe, and to keep the woman he loves alive. If you love Martina Cole, Kimberley Chambers, and Jessie Keane, you’ll love Heather Atkinson. Discover the bestselling gangland author Heather Atkinson and you'll never look back... Purchase Link My thoughts: Heather Atkinson is the author of numerous books in the crime fiction genre, but I only discovered this talented writer last year when I read Blood Brothers, the first book in her Gallowburn series. In this book we go introduced to the fictional Gallowburn Estate in Glasgow and four friends who were born and bred in this poverty-stricken community. For Jamie Gray and his Blood Brothers Gary, Digger, and Logan loyalty and family are everything. This action-packed gangland thriller also had unexpected romance, but more about it later. The second book in the series introduced us to new fascinating characters, including fearless Reverend Valerie and Toni McVay, a powerful crime boss. Heather Atkinson's newest thriller Blood Ties is the third instalment, in which Jamie and his friends deal with new threats coming from a new pretender, as well as Jamie's formidable enemy from the past. If you are a fan of the genre (which isn't admittedly everyone's cup of tea) and would like to read the series, it is better to start from the first book and see the development of relationships, including Jamie's whirlwind romance with feisty Allegra Abernathy, which is crucial for understanding the events in Blood Ties. The plot is as fast-paced and gritty as in the first two instalments, and, of course, there are plenty of twists to keep the readers turn pages. The characters are still as colourful as ever (my heart belongs to Jamie's mother Jackie who will not hesitate to get out her weapon of choice- a frying pan- and go into a street fight to get justice for her kids). Heather Atkinson's fans will be happy to read this new addition to the series and find out what life has in store for the Blood Brothers and their families. Thank you to NetGalley, Rachel from Rachel's Random Resources and Boldwood Books for the review copy. All opinions are my own and were not influenced in any way. Author Bio –
Heather Atkinson is the author of over fifty books - predominantly in the crime fiction genre. Although Lancashire born and bred she now lives with her family, including twin teenage daughters, on the beautiful west coast of Scotland. Social Media Links – Website https://www.heatheratkinsonbooks.com/ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/booksofheatheratkinson/ Twitter https://twitter.com/HeatherAtkinso1 Instagram https://www.instagram.com/heathercrimeauthor/ Newsletter Sign Up Link http://bit.ly/HeatherAtkinsonNewsletter Bookbub profile https://www.bookbub.com/authors/heather-atkinson Wolf Tempted
-- EXCERPT: She moved over to the door, pulled out her tools, and looked over her shoulder one last time to ensure no one was watching. She might be decently skilled at breaking and entering, but that didn’t mean she wanted to get caught. This was her first visit to New Orleans, and she had no desire to see it from the inside of a jail cell. Satisfied that no one saw her, she quickly inserted the picks into the lock and went to work. While she’d probably done this a hundred times or more, it never failed to kick up her heartbeat and get the adrenaline coursing through her body. Getting in and out of somewhere she had no business being had become quite an art form, and one she was damned proud of. Never mind that it made her a criminal. That was neither here nor there. For her, the end justified the means, and in this case, it could mean the difference between life and death. Again. Right now, all that mattered was getting this job done and done fast. On that note, and with one final twist of the metal picks, the lock clicked free, and the door popped open. She shoved her tools back into her pocket and disappeared inside, making sure to close and lock the door behind her. Having to unlock the door to escape might slow her down for a second, but that was a hell of a lot better than someone waltzing in from the outside and catching her off guard. The hairs at the back of her neck prickled, letting her know that her spidey sense had been activated. She didn’t have much time. She needed to find the supplies the witch required and get the hell out. “If you wanted in that badly, sugah, you could have just knocked. For a knockout like you, I would have opened the door whether the shop was closed or not.” She jerked at the voice that came out of nowhere as she whirled around to find a man standing in front of the door she’d just walked away from. But was he? A man, that was. These days, it was getting harder and harder to tell who was human and who was something else. Once she’d learned to look, she couldn’t seem to walk down a street without tripping over a supernatural or two. Not to make assumptions, but this one certainly seemed out of this world. He was extraordinarily tall, more than six-four if she had to guess, with dark skin that seemed to mesmerize her. And good God but was he beautiful. It was hard not to stare. Not even his annoyed stance, arms crossed aggressively over his chest detracted from his appearance. No way was he an ordinary human. Right? Shit. She couldn’t tell for sure without getting closer, and she had a feeling getting too close would not do her any favors. No one was supposed to be here. The shop had been closed for quite some time. She’d watched the lone female employee lock up and leave the premises more than thirty minutes ago. So who the hell was this guy? “Cat got your tongue?” “I need some ingredients for a spell, and it couldn’t wait.” For all she knew, it was likely the truth. The witch hadn’t bothered to inform her why she needed these items, only that they were required before she would lift a finger to help her. The man eyed her curiously, and she got the immediate impression that he knew she wasn’t telling the truth. That was the thing about these people. They possessed all kinds of unusual abilities, and you never knew for sure which one you would encounter next. Not that she had any business talking about these people. She’d become one of these people way before Jami, without anyone else realizing. At the moment, he stood eerily still, simply watching her with eyes that seemed to glow with silver threads that looked her over from head to toe. That stare unnerved her. It was as if he saw something no one else did. By the time he finished looking her over he had his hands on his hips and one leg cocked her way. “I call bullshit on that answer, sweetheart. Try again.” His saucy retort caught her off guard. From the Crocs on his feet all the way to the beanie over his head, he gave off the vibe that despite his wild appearance, he wasn’t going to take any shit from her or anyone else for that matter. “It’s not for me personally, not exactly. But it is for a spell.” At least she believed that to be true. “What kind of spell? You clearly aren’t a witch, so I highly doubt you can work anything more than a basic love potion, and for that you don’t need anything worth breaking in for. Your local grocer carries that shit.” She nearly choked on his insult. “I am not looking to work a love spell. A man in my life is about the last thing I need.” His right eyebrow raised well into his hairline. “You sure about that? A lot of situations can easily be resolved with a nice roll between the sheets.”
GIVEAWAY! Mate for the Howlidays
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: “What are you thinking?” Dex asked. She smiled wistfully. “That it must be great to have someone love you so much they want to spend the rest of their lives with you. I’ve never had a relationship last past a few weeks. I can’t imagine finding someone who would want me around forever.” He watched her silently for a moment before hooking an arm around her waist and hauling her up against his body. “Angel, anyone would be lucky to have a woman like you. We might have just met, but I can tell you have class and style, and you seem sweet.” The champagne glass in her hand fell to the ground as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to taste his lips on hers. When his head lowered, she went up on tiptoe to meet him halfway. Their lips met, pressing together, then his moved against hers in a gentle caress. Her tongue swept over his lower lip and he opened, deepening the kiss. Her fingers toyed with the ends of his hair as his tongue slid along the length of hers. Kizzie felt lightheaded and clung to him tighter. She heard the clink of a bottle hitting the ground, then his hands caressed her waist, stroking up her back until one hand cupped the back of her head. She’d never felt so on fire before.
GIVEAWAY! The Magi Menagerie
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo Only $1.99 for a limited time! -- EXCERPT: Ezra A blinding white light illuminated the compartment then faded just before a concussive shockwave sent the scene around them into oblivion. Reeling in confusion, Ezra found himself lying prostrate in a barely conceivable jumble of his former surroundings. Splintering glass shattered around him. A warm stream of a substance—oil? Blood? —trickled down his forehead and along the corner of his mouth. Ezra wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat, cringing at the crimson trail left behind. His equilibrium—as much as he tried to control it—spiralled in a vicious vortex, rendering it nearly impossible to get his bearings. “Anne?” he croaked in Turkish. His voice, hardly louder than a whisper, was drowned out by the infernal ringing in his ears. Reaching for the compartment door handle to pull himself to his feet, Ezra recoiled when he noticed the door had been smeared with cruel red streaks. Smoke billowed throughout the walkway, choking him as he navigated on hands and knees through the devastation. “Anne?” he called again. “Ezra!” His mother was within arm’s reach, but the look in her eyes seemed dangerously far. Ezra crawled to her side where she lay gasping for air. His stomach contorted into knots at the sight of a dark, liquid halo surrounding her headscarf. “Let’s get you out of here,” Ezra insisted, attempting to prop her up into a seated position. He frantically looked around for any sign of his father. “We need to find Baba!” “Shhh,” she insisted, shakily reaching up to her son’s face. “Don’t worry about us. Flee. Get as far away from here as you possibly can.” “What are you saying?” Ezra said, wondering if somehow his brain had lost all ability to comprehend language. “Your baba and I knew this day would come,” she whispered, tears swimming in her eyes. “They have found us. They have found you.” “Who? Who has found—” Ezra began but was silenced when her complexion faded to a ghastly white. He hesitantly followed her gaze over his shoulder. Distorted by smoke, an inky black shadow materialised at the end of the walkway. The figure plodded toward them with an uneven gait, accompanied by ominous, mechanical whirring. But when the being finally stopped, and the smoke cleared just enough to expose his anamorphic features, Ezra could not bring himself to move. “By the Order of Babylon, you are hereby commanded to follow and obey,” his deep voice warbled through some type of amplification apparatus. His breath’s condensation—or rather, steam—fumed from the steel grates around where his mouth should have been. Ezra’s own breath faltered as the orange light from nearby flames illuminated the figure’s head. Slits in his mask revealed rugged skin and dark shadows beneath an organic eye, but the other portion consisted entirely of an intricate web of gears and piping. While at one time, the figure might have been an ordinary person, whoever now stood before him was nothing close to being human. “We shall not!” his mother barked defensively, feigning a physical strength Ezra knew she lacked. “We will never yield.” “Hmm,” the shadow mused. “So be it, Magus.” A snap of his fingers sent ruby sparks into the haze and, upon deteriorating, revealed a massive cobra. Its thick body slithered across the wreckage and advanced straight for Ezra. “Ezra, go!” cried his mother as a deluge of glass fragments rained upon them. Crab-walking backward, Ezra manoeuvred as fast as he could away from the serpent, but it navigated the debris as if nothing stood in its way. The reptile snapped its jaws centimetres from his leather shoe, a fierce wrath in its eyes. “Leave him alone, devil!” yelled Leyla, summoning what strength remained to kick at the snake with her boot. Almost in slow motion, the cobra turned its fiery eyes toward his mother and bared its fangs as if overjoyed to set a course for its new target. “No!” Ezra screamed in terror. “No, no, no!” The cobra paid no attention to his pleas. It struck in one sickening flash, almost too fast for the eye to comprehend. As it withdrew, Ezra choked back arduous smoke—and a wave of tears—as his mother reflexively reached for her neck. Narrowing its eyes as if perversely satisfied by the work of its venom now coursing through her veins, the cobra turned back to Ezra. Trembling, Ezra tried to move but could not persuade his petrified limbs to cooperate. “Go, my love!” Leyla rasped. “Go!” Using his elbows to help pull him down the corridor, he furiously attempted escape. If the half-man, half-machine could grin or show any form of expression, Ezra imagined he was elated beyond measure at the persistence of his pet. The mysterious being advanced, his boots ravishing the ashy remains of pencil-sketched architecture. “Where is your father, boy?” demanded the figure. “Tell me!” Ezra could barely breathe as the figure hovered above him. A true vision of the Grim Reaper. The last thing Ezra saw before his vision faded was the cruel twinkle behind the mask of the stranger.
GIVEAWAY! Yellowstone Wolf
-- EXCERPT: A body lay on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue hidden among flawless pruned shrubs. Another victim. I snaked both arms around my waist, trying to ward off the eerie darkness slithering along my spine. This woman had the same stoic look as the last two. Something about these dead women reminded me of Grace. Across the street protest marchers carried signs saying “SHIFTER LIVES MATTER.” If the police didn’t catch the killer soon, they’d have a riot on their hands. The blue lights of DC’s finest officers created a shield around the victim. I stood on the corner waiting to be allowed to enter the crime scene. I flashed my Paranormal Federal Bureau of Investigations badge. The officer waved me in. I ducked under the yellow police tape. “I’m here to see the police chief.” The officer pointed me in his direction. “Third girl this month.” Larry bounced on the balls of his feet and continued to investigate the body. The deceased woman’s blonde-streaked black hair lay strewn down her breast. Her lips painted blue. Perfect chiseled cheek bones and almond shaped eyes. Her ankles bound with silver coiled rope and a warlock destiny symbol carved across her flat stomach. I might not have been a forensic detective, but obviously someone wanted to send a strong message. I pushed my glasses to the top of my head squinting. “Thanks for the text.” “I could use your knowledge of warlock magic.” “What about the reporters standing behind the tape?” “We’re trying to keep the press away, especially since every one of these women resemble Grace Isaeva.” Grace was my best friend, but most important she was the former President of the United States. After she passed the civil rights legislation, gaining the shifter population equal rights, she’d taken leadership of the PFBI. I drew in a breath to take in the fact just over a year ago I’d broken the biggest news story of my career only to find myself under scrutiny by the shifter organization I was trying to help. The hurt still lingered in my heart, so I resigned from CNN as a news reporter. Grace offered me a job overseeing the magical other worlds that co-existed with the humans. At least I was able to put my knowledge of modern witchcraft to good use. “Do you think our perp is killing these women for revenge?” “The thought has crossed my mind.” Larry jotted notes in his phone. He stopped at the victim’s feet. “What can you tell me about the symbols?” I walked around the body and knelt at her side to get a better look of the painted images on her stomach. “Human or shifter?” If she was human instead of another shifter then there was a chance our killer wasn’t targeting the clans. “Wolf.” An officer who worked street patrol gave us her name. “Which pack?” “Local girl. She’s part of the Smith pack outside town. Her pack’s pretty riled up and demanding the department turn the investigation over to the shifter authorities.”
GIVEAWAY! El Diablo
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: “Get up, come on, get down with the sickness!” I screamed out the song from Disturbed as the video played on the huge TV covering one wall. I had ground beef browning with onion and had just put in peppers, garlic, mushrooms, and tomatoes. It wouldn’t be long before it was time for the cheese and noodles. I rubbed my hands together. This was gonna be so good! I stirred the egg noodles, testing their tenderness. Yeah. It was close. I cut up the Velveeta cheese into small blocks, then poured in the tomatoes. After mixing it, I dropped in the cheese a few blocks at a time and stirred until melted, all the while belting out song after song. Disturbed. Five Finger Death Punch. Alice Cooper. AC/DC. Rammstein. Yeah, I liked it hard and loud. I’d just stirred in the noodles when a movement near the door caught my eye. A man. Correction, a huge man was shutting the door behind him, his eyes on me, but wincing as if the sound was a bit too much for him. Which, likely, it was. I hadn’t met this guy before, but I was used to Malcolm sending in men to intimidate or scare me. Sometimes he sent them to get to know me, to try to cajole me into toeing the line. Especially when I was being particularly difficult. I hadn’t been, though. Not for a couple of months. I’d had my fill of the outside the last time I’d snuck out. I suspect Malcolm knew I was capable of bypassing his security and sneaking out and had simply set up a bad situation for me to fall into. Instead of muting the TV, I smirked at the big bastard and turned it up even louder. He merely shook his head, then motioned at the remote. Obviously either wanting it or wanting me to mute it. Instead of complying, I shoved it down the garbage disposal and flipped a switch on the wall, turning it on. The big guy ground his teeth, pulled a gun from his back, and shot the TV. “Well,” he said, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. “I guess I won that round.” He gave me a shark-like smile. “My name’s El Diablo. I’d say I was a friend of your father’s but that would be… oversimplifying things, shall we say.”
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