Surviving Hell: Jake’s Story by Annalise Blaze

Forever Valentine PR and More proudly presents the release blitz of Surviving Hell: Jake’s Story by Annalise Blaze!
Title: Surviving Hell: Jake’s Story
Author: Annalise Blaze
Release Date: Jun 26 2017
Photographer: Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs & Bec Ski Photography
Cover Designer: Leigh Stone at Irish Ink
Proceeds to benefit:

 

Synopsis
Young and arrogant, jaded by love- Jake Monroe is focused on one thing, his military career. Until a young recruit catches his eye. 
 
Mel’s pull is like magic, drawing him in. He shouldn’t want her. She’s too good for him, but he can’t stay away.
 
Returning to a war zone, one letter changes their course. Destroying what Jake thought could have been his forever. But fate draws them together again.
 
Can Jake survive hell and win back his girl? One thing is for sure, he’ll go through hell and back trying.
 
Available Now
 
Teasers
About the Author

 

Annalise Blaze writes romance novels with relatable and troubled characters. Her debut novel, Starting Over; A Winters Novel, is based around a divorced 40 something woman and a 30 something younger man. Annalise likes to write about real world experiences that she can layer into her characters.

 

 

 

Annalise started writing in 2001, but never put any of her work out there for the public, choosing to set aside her writing to devote to family until 2014. When Annalise isn’t writing she can be found reading any number of books. Her debut novel was finally made available in April 2015.

 

 

 

Author Links

 

Twitter @annalise_blaze.www.facebook.com/Annaliseblaze
IG @annaliseblazeauthorwww.annaliseblazebooks.com

 

 
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The Yankee Billionaire’s Bride by Roz Lee

Title: The Yankee Billionaire’s Bride
Author: Roz Lee
Series: Billionaire Brides Book 2
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Blurb

Visiting the tiny town of Butte Plains, Texas to help out a friend, born and bred Yankee Scott Ramsey has no intention of falling in love, but it isn’t long before the wide open plains, and especially the meadows—Roseanne Meadows—stake a claim on his heart. The Lone Star state seems welcoming enough, but after the owner of The Yellow Rose Bed and Breakfast stole his heart, suddenly, for reasons he can’t understand, he’s relegated to carpetbagger status. What will it take to convince Roseanne his home is where his heart is?
Roseanne Meadows knew better than to fall in love with a Yankee carpetbagger, but it’s too late now. What’s done is done, and the sooner Scott Ramsey packs up his toys and goes home to his venomous family, the better. Faced with an unexpected life-altering situation, in true Texan style, the owner of The Yellow Rose B&B will do whatever it takes to survive, even if it means leaving the only place her heart has ever called home.
 

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Excerpt

 
You’re back.”
I said I would be. You haven’t rented my room out to someone else have you?” Scott set his suitcase in the wide foyer of the B&B and smiled at the owner of the inn who wasn’t smiling back at him.
No. I haven’t, but maybe I should.”
He stood frozen, one hand on the handle of his luggage, the other in his pocket where he’d deposited his keys. What the hell had happened while he was gone? “What are you saying? You want me to leave?”
Roseanne glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen then back at him. “Keep your voice down. The whole world doesn’t need to know our business.”
Scott didn’t care who heard, but appearances meant a lot to Roseanne, so he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “What’s going on?” For the first time since he’d entered the house, he noticed she was wringing her hands—something she only did when she was nervous.
Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Find out what?”
Your parents’ anniversary party?” She quit fidgeting and squared her shoulders. Her hands became small fists at her sides. “You know—the one you attended last night?”
Scott sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. Shit. What could he say? I didn’t want to drag you into the mess that is my family? I didn’t want you to meet my parents? I didn’t want you to get hurt? All of them true, but obviously not what she wanted to hear, so he pulled out the only plausible explanation he could think of. “You were sick. I thought knowing what you were missing would make you feel even worse.”
Her face turned thunderous. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You knew about the party long before I got sick. You could have told me anytime, but you didn’t because you didn’t want me to go with you. I’m not an idiot, Scott. I know I’m not in your league, but you could have been honest with me. I deserved that much.”
I wanted—”
She held her hand up. “Stop. Just stop. Don’t say another word. I have no right to be upset, but I am, which is on me. I let myself think there was more between us than there was. So, thanks for the reality check, and please find another place to stay as soon as possible.”
He should have told her about the party when he first heard about it. Roseanne was more than capable of holding her own in his parents’ world. A cold, hard truth settled over him. Yes, he’d been protecting her from the pointed barbs his family could throw, but he’d also been protecting himself. He didn’t want Roseanne to see the way his family treated him. Didn’t want her to know he was, if not exactly the black sheep, the one with the purple stripes—the one his family couldn’t understand. Had never made an effort to understand. He’d screwed up, big time. Worse, he had no idea how to fix it. “You can’t be serious.”
Her features hardened even more, and he got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d said the wrong thing. As usual. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. You’ve got twenty-four hours. If you aren’t out by then, you’ll find your things waiting for you on the front porch. Is that clear?”

Meet the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author, Roz Lee is a displaced Texan who lives in New Jersey with her husband of almost four decades, and Bud, an overly large rescue dog who demands regular romps in the woods no matter how busy his parents are.
The mom of two daughters and grandma to the cutest baby boy ever, Roz collects Depression glass, and teacups with rose patterns. Her favorite food is Tex-Mex, and she’s never met a piece of chocolate she didn’t like.
When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. Warning—she brakes for antique stores!
Author Web & Social Media links:
Amazon Author Page – http://amzn.to/2rIFfve
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Just Until Morning by Dani Wyatt

 

 
Coming June 28th
Taking what he wants has never been a second thought for Lincoln Kirk. His empire of private, high stakes poker rooms has brought him everything he thought he wanted in this life. Until it didn’t. The moment the lush, blond pixie burst into his life with her Mae West hips and Judy Garland smile, all bets were off.

Holli Holliday works a poker room like a swan on a still lake. Gliding through life on a hustle is what’s gotten her this far. Her dreams for the future don’t include poker and worrying about back rent, but she needs one more good score before she can take back the reins on her runaway life.

To settle a debt, Lincoln Kirk offers Holli the option of staying with him just until morning. Can one night turn into forever? Or will dangerous plans for starting a new life end one of theirs?

Author’s Note: Toss your chips on the pile because you are in for a long night. This sweet novella will steam your wrinkles flat and have you stacking the deck rooting for these two. It’s love at first sight, straight to the sticky bits with a happily ever after that will leave you swooning.
AP  new -about the author.jpg
Dani Wyatt loves her alpha men; make them military, cowboys, MMA — any uber alpha with a wicked possessive streak and an insatiable libido. Receive a free exclusive unpublished title when you join Dani’s private readers group for updates, free chapters and discounts.
She’s a 40 something regular lady who just happens to love badass alpha males who pull your hair and love their women with a lethal passion.
When she’s not writing (which is not often) she is probably laughing about some irony (like A-1 Steak Sauce is vegan), riding her horse, wondering why The Walking Dead can’t have a new episode every night, or looking cross-eyed at some piece of technology sent to ruin her day.
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An Unlikely Bride by Nadia Lee

 

AVA

The meek shall inherit the earth, they say.

Bullshit. Look at me now. What do I have? Nothing.

I thought I wouldn’t get past a second heartbreak. I was wrong. I never should’ve closed myself off in tears when Lucas told me he loved me. I should’ve had faith he wouldn’t betray me.

Regaining his love will mean throwing away my pride, my armor and laying myself completely bare. I have to trust that he won’t crush me at my most vulnerable.

The attempt will leave me bleeding. It might just kill me. But I definitely won’t survive knowing that I didn’t fight for what I wanted: my future.

A future with the only man I ever loved…a man more important than the very air I breathe…

LUCAS

You gotta put yourself out there to get what you want.

My ass.

I bared my heart to Ava. I begged for her trust, her love.

Instead she shattered my soul.

She’s circling me, her pretty eyes vulnerable. She won’t fool me this time. I’ll never give her another shot. I’ll break her before she breaks me…

Note: The last book in Lucas and Ava’s epic love story! No cliffhanger.
Nobody can be you. You’re the only woman who’s made me yearn.”
The quiet intensity of his gaze and voice ripples over me. It soothes the wounds of my soul, and I close my eyes to savor the warm, sweet moment.
“When I saw you for the first time at that restaurant, it was like seeing my fate. My future.”
I grin. “You liked my body. I remember you checking me out.” An understatement; he’d stripped me bare with his eyes.
“Nice bodies and pretty faces are dime a dozen. You were different.” He takes a bite of his lunch and lets the silence stretch for a moment.
“Then why did you act like you didn’t want me back? You never wanted to stay the night or take me to meet your family or friends. If they’d seen me before the accident, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.”
He hesitates.
“You don’t want to talk about it,” I say finally.
His fingers twitch. “It’s not that. I’m trying to figure out how to say it so I can avoid looking like an idiot…” He sighs. “Okay, it was my fault. Even as I wanted you, I was fighting it. I felt like I didn’t deserve that kind of love.”
Then I know. “Your mother.”
“What do you mean?”
I shake my head. “Don’t do that. We promised to be honest with each other, and you’re not. It’s not fair.”
“You’re right, it’s not. I’m sorry. No, I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Okay.” He isn’t willing to open up yet, so I’m not going to push it. After all, we can’t continue to have mutual respect and honesty if we refuse to let the other person be. I’m afraid to push too hard and ruin what we have. “Then can you tell me about the deal between you and your father? What the tabloids said… It’s true, isn’t it?”
He nods, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “Basically. What they didn’t publish is that the whole thing came about because Dad was furious we missed his Wedding Number Six.”
“To some woman who isn’t even half his age.” I saw that part too on the Internet.
“I’d be surprised if she finished high school. She’s so young she could’ve been our sister.”
“He must love her, though.”
Lucas snorts a laugh. “He can’t stand his wives. His ego was hurt that we didn’t show. Blake, Ryder and Elizabeth opted to attend their cousin’s wedding—it was his first marriage, after all—and Elliot and I chose not to go because after a while, you don’t want to be part of your parents’ circus. But Dad wanted to make a point, and he knew he could use the portraits to get to us. There were some complications with Grandpa’s will, and the paintings went to my father, who thinks we’re all bunch of worthless losers, and that our grandfather was too soft on us.”
“That’s awful. He’s your father.”
“A reluctant father. I’m sure he regrets he didn’t ask his wives to get abortions.”
I gasp.
“We were just bargaining chips in the divorces, although it didn’t work out the way he wanted with me and Elliot.”
“Why not?”
“Because our mother didn’t try to win custody. She preferred a fatter alimony.”
My image of Lucas as a child, growing up in abundance with everything a person could want, crumbles. Everything online portrayed an enviable life, and I accepted it all without question. “So what’s so special about the portraits?” I ask. “Everyone seemed to be focused on how much they’re worth, but that’s not it, is it?”
“Their monetary value isn’t even a consideration for us.” He jabs the air with his fork. “I’m not denying they’re each worth millions of bucks, but let’s face it. We don’t need the money. If we get them, none of us will ever sell them. The value—to us—is entirely sentimental. Our grandfather painted them when we turned eighteen, and they show the potential and greatness he saw in us.”
“They must be amazing. I wish I could see the one of you.”
Lucas shifts his weight, then reaches for his beer. “It’s pretty romanticized. Grandpa only saw the best in everyone.”
“I don’t see the best in everyone, but I think you’re incredible.” I finish the last of my fries. My mind is made up. “Let’s get married.”
He stares at me as though I’ve asked him to climb Everest in the nude. “Ava…we can’t.”
“What? Why not?”
“I didn’t go after you to get the painting.”
“I know, and that’s fine. I just think that now—”
“I won’t marry you. Now yet.”
Well, this is unexpected. I cast about for the right argument. “But that means your father’s going to win.”
He shrugs.
“Don’t you want to win?”
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “You aren’t marrying anyone else, Lucas Reed!”
“Absolutely not. I told you already, you’re the only one for me. But I’m not marrying you either, not until the six months is up, because I’m not giving you any cause to doubt my love for you again.”
Now it becomes clear. “Lucas… I won’t.”
But he isn’t listening. “My brothers and sister will just have to get over it. I’ll find a way to make it up to them.”
“But you were going to marry Faye…”
“I didn’t love her, Ava. It’s not the same thing.”
“You’re right, it’s not. This way, you get both the painting and the woman you really do love. So what’s the problem?”
“If anything happens between us because of the damned deal…” He inhales roughly. “I can’t go through…everything…again.”

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Nadia Lee writes sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Born with a love for excellent food, travel and adventure, she has lived in four different countries, kissed stingrays, been bitten by a shark, ridden an elephant and petted tigers.

Currently, she shares a condo overlooking a small river and sakura trees in Japan with her husband and son. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading books by her favorite authors or planning another trip.

Stay in touch with her via her website, http://www.nadialee.net, or her blog www.nadialee.net/blog/
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Blood Enemy by Mina Carter

 

Coming June 27th
Feral doesn’t do babies. Or pixies. So when someone dumps a pixie baby of all things on his doorstep, he does the only thing he can think of. He tries to palm it off on someone else. Unfortunately his neighbor is out of town, leaving her sister, Tessa, to house-sit. Her single and disturbingly attractive sister. Which leaves Feral with a couple of problems, especially when a bunch of pixie ninja wannabes break into the place and try to steal the baby. Does he turn his back on the pixies, a race he’s always hated… or will Tessa cast her own spell on the strong, silent-type Kyn Warrior?

Chapter one

There was a baby on his doorstep.
Feral stood in the open doorway of his apartment and looked down at the small bundle with confusion. Wrapped in a pale-yellow blanket, one pudgy arm and leg had escaped from the folds to punch and kick with enthusiasm. Gurgles filled the air, bursting with baby satisfaction and happiness. Whatever it thought it was fighting, in its mind it was obviously winning.
He scrubbed a hand over his shorn head. What was a baby doing on his doorstep?
“Well, hello little…actually, what the hell are you?” he murmured. “And how did you get out here?”
He squatted down to pick it up. It took three attempts. His large hands weren’t the right shape to pick up something so tiny. Lifting the squirming bundle carefully, he glanced up and down the corridor, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever had knocked on his door.
Nothing. Zip. Nada. Not surprising. Even if someone had been lurking in the shadows, the near six and a half feet of bare-chested kyn male who’d opened the door would have scared them off for sure.
Then the smell hit him.
Pungent and forceful, it stripped several layers off the inside of his nose like a gallon of paint thinner. Recoiling, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Fuck, are you supposed to smell that bad, mate?”
He looked at the baby in surprise, settling it into the crook of his arm. He didn’t really want it so close, not smelling as foul as it did, but he couldn’t leave it alone on the floor.
“Okay, let’s see who you are then.” He reached out to move the edge of the blanket covering the baby’s face and then froze. His lips peeled back from his fangs.
Its hair was bright pink.
Which meant two things: one, the baby was male, and two, it was a pixie. They were the only species Feral knew of with such weird hair colors.
“You just had to be a bloody pixie, didn’t you?” He glared up and down the corridor again. Still no one.
He sighed heavily. There was no point standing out on the doorstep like a spare prick at an orgy. A chill ran up the hallway and he looked down at the baby. He couldn’t leave it out here, even if it was a pixie. It would freeze to death.
He stepped back into his apartment, hooking a bare foot around the door and kicking it shut before wandering into the main room. Coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the open area, he frowned. What the hell did he do now?
It was one of his rare nights off, so he wasn’t dressed for company. A pair of ripped, faded jeans hung off his hips and his feet were bare. Alone as he was, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. And he’d already had a couple of beers, make that a lot of beers, so he couldn’t drive. Which left him with a problem. A small, baby-shaped problem.
He looked down, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the baby opened its eyes and blinked at him. Its wide, bright eyes were peacock blue.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any suggestions as to what we should do?”
The baby just looked back and smiled the toothless, gummy smile of the very young. Feral had to admit, for a pixie, he was cute. The sort of cute that women went gaga over. The baby was also more placid than he’d been led to believe babies were. As the thought wandered through Feral’s mind, though, the baby’s face crumpled.
“WwwwwwwuuuuaaahhhHHHHHHHHHH!”
The cry started off low, but then swelled and grew in volume, like an old-fashioned air raid siren. Feral had only ever heard them in films, but now, he held an appreciation of what it must have been like in London during the Blitz. It seemed impossible someone so small could make so much noise. But he was, threatening to pierce Feral’s eardrums with the sheer volume.
“Shh…shh…shh, it’s fine. Everything’s fine!” He jiggled the baby a little, trying to calm it down, but this action only released fresh waves of the foul stench emanating from the diaper.
It wasn’t fine. It was so far from fine it beggared belief. He must really have pissed the fates off at some point for them to dump a baby on him… a pixie baby no less, when his dislike…no, his hatred of pixies was well known. Perhaps he’d kicked kittens or puppies in a former life or something.
Out of ideas, he strode across the room to the breakfast counter. The apartments on his block were open plan, with the kitchen and dining room leading into the main living space. Bathrooms and bedrooms were separated by the narrow excuse for an entrance hall.
He located his cell behind a couple of empty beer bottles and flicked it open. Vixen would know what to do. His partner of several years, and a mother herself, she’d know what to do with a baby. If he was lucky, she might even offer to look after the child for him.
Here’s hoping, he thought, hitting speed dial for Vixen and lifting it to his ear.
“Hi, you’ve reached Vixen’s phone…”
“Crap,” Feral swore as his patrol partner’s voicemail cut in. He’d forgotten Vixen’s mate, Kalen, had taken her out of town for the weekend. A second honeymoon since Vix had been eight months pregnant, and the size of a house, during their first.
“Fuckit.” He flicked the phone shut and tapped the edge of it against his teeth. Then he realized the terrible wail had stopped and he looked down in surprise. Peacock blue eyes were fixed on his cell.
“Oh, you like this, huh?” He smiled and waggled the phone. The baby watched it, tracking the movement. Feral frowned—he didn’t know they could do that until they were older. He shrugged. He must be mistaken. The little man was tracking the phone like a hawk.
Pudgy fists emerged from the blanket and made a grab for the sleek silver case, fastening around it and wrenching the thing from Feral’s grasp. He chuckled, an expression that turned to horror the next instant as the baby stuffed it into his mouth.
“No no no… Not good, not food!” he exclaimed as his phone was used as a teething ring.
“Give the phone back to Feral. There’s a good little boy,” he coaxed and worked to get a finger between the baby’s mouth and the phone. But the slobbering little thing had formed an unbreakable seal and he couldn’t even get his smallest finger in. He hissed in frustration, looking at the baby in confusion as he tried several different angles. It was no good. His hands were too big, more accustomed to battling rogue vampires than dealing with tiny babies.
Finally, he managed it, sliding his finger down the side and popping the phone free. He grimaced as his finger and the phone came away covered in baby slobber, and he held the phone up in triumph. A furious squeal tore the air while little fists struggled and pummeled the air.
“WWWWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
“Shit. Here.”
Feral stuffed the phone back in the baby’s mouth, silencing the squeal as quickly as it had started. Great, so what did he do now? He had no clue how to take care of a baby and had no time to learn. He needed to do something about the smell soon as well because it was getting worse.
Diapers. He needed diapers. But what sort, and where could he get them from? Disposable ones would be fine—he wasn’t all earth-momma like the woman two units down. He often saw her in the basement with laundry loads of white diapers.
His eyes widened. A woman with children. Even better, she had pixie blood. Once you’d seen one pixie woman, it was easy to spot them. Which meant he wouldn’t have to explain why the baby was sporting what looked like a bad dye job.
Grinning, he did an about face. Sliding his feet into a pair of heavy boots, he trudged out the door in search of salvation.
***
The tub of ice cream in the freezer was calling Tessa’s name. Chocolate fudge brownie—her favorite comfort food. After the crap day she’d had, she didn’t care about the extra calorie load. Fresh from the shower and swaddled in one of her sister’s huge toweling robes, she padded into the kitchen to collect the tub and a spoon. She didn’t bother with a bowl. Instead, she just pulled the lid off and dug in, right there in front of the freezer.
“Mmm…” She moaned in pleasure as the first taste of the chocolatey, gooey treat hit her tongue. The stresses of the day melted away, aided by the long, hot shower she’d just had and the taste of the ice cream. A little taste of her childhood. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the freezer.
Today had been the day from hell. Working in a busy logistics office meant everything had been put on hold when the trunk shipments had been late, throwing the whole day into disarray. It also meant Tessa didn’t get to leave until late. Considering she’d been on duty since 6 a.m., it hadn’t impressed her.
Finally, she’d been able to escape, a long weekend ahead of her. But even then, she hadn’t been finished. She’d agreed to house sit for her older sister Lisa, who was off for a break with her hubby and the twins. So, it had been a mad dash home to throw whatever she needed into a weekend bag and then a breakneck drive over to the apartment to catch Lisa before she left to get the usual “remember to feed the fish” chat. Lisa was only a couple of years older than Tessa, but anyone would think she was Methuselah the way she carried on.
Now though, all was calm. Tessa had waved Lisa and James off, twins already asleep and packed up in the back of the car, a little over an hour ago. Just enough time to unwind over a glass of wine as she watched the evening news and take a long, hot shower.
She just loved the shower here. A power unit, it had a setting that felt like needles bombarding her skin—thousands of tiny, dull pinpricks that took her breath away and felt wonderful after the day she’d had. She’d stood there for a full five minutes under the spray before even reaching for the shower gel.
Opening her eyes, she dug the spoon into the ice cream again, tucking the tub into the crook of her arm as she headed through to the main room. Flopping down in the middle of the comfortable sofa, she rooted around for the remote, spoon in mouth. It was there somewhere, she just needed to find it and then she’d be all set. The player was loaded with tonight’s choice of chick flick movie, one she’d been looking forward to watching for weeks but just hadn’t found the time to see. Now, she had the time. This weekend was all about her and relaxation. Lots of relaxation.
“Ahh, there you are.” She recovered the missing remote from under one of the scatter cushions. Her sister was obsessed with the things. Either that or they were breeding in here.
Sighing in satisfaction, she spooned more ice cream into her mouth as she flicked the player on. She curled her legs up under her and settled herself into a more comfortable position as the opening credits rolled. Life didn’t get much better than this.
Rap, rap, rap.
“Damn it.” She looked over her shoulder, but the knock on the front door continued as she stared. Who was that? Had to be a cold caller, she decided. A total control freak, Lisa would have let all her friends know she was going to be away. Which meant it had to be someone who didn’t know Lisa or James. And if it was, perhaps they would go away if she ignored them.
Rap, rap, RAP.
No such luck, the hammering got worse. Tessa sighed as she contemplated moving, flicking pause on the remote and freezing the scrolling text on the TV screen.
“This had better be good,” she grumbled under her breath as she put the tub on the floor, drove the spoon into the melting ice cream with a vicious stab, and then got to her feet. It had better be good…and quick, since she had a major fan-girl thing for the actor in the movie. The quicker she got back to ogle his toned and sculptured bod, the happier she’d be.
She grumbled under her breath all the way to the door, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. Ever security-conscious, she threw the chain over before she opened it a crack.
“Hello?” That was as far as she got. The sight that met her eyes stopped any further comment in her throat.
On her doorstep was the most handsome, ripped guy she’d ever seen. Her eyes started at the middle of the broad chest, noting the heavily toned muscles as they moved outward. A long way outward. The guy was huge. And tall. Her eyes flicked upward. He had to be well over six feet. Made her feel kind of dainty, which wasn’t something Tessa got to feel very often.
He was also carrying a baby.
She blinked in surprise. Okay, this was one situation she wasn’t used to facing. Drop-dead gorgeous men did not appear on her doorstep with babies. They didn’t appear on her doorstep at all, with or without babies.
“Sorry, can I help you?”
“You might just save my life.” His voice was a low rumble that took Tessa’s breath away. The sort of sound that did things to her insides on a very primitive level.
“Um, okay?” she managed, dark eyes flicking to the bundle he carried. Then a slight breeze in the corridor, someone must have opened a door down the way, carried the unmistakable scent of a dirty diaper.
“Hmm, not being funny… but you might want to change the baby before you take it out visiting,” she suggested. And maybe put a shirt on, she added mentally. Although, she was enjoying the view. What kind of a father was he, though, bringing his baby out with a dirty diaper?
“That would be the problem.” He shifted the baby in his arms and smoothed the edge of the blanket down. Tessa caught her breath at the color of its hair.
It was bright pink, a color she’d only seen in the full-blooded members of her mother’s family. He looked at her and smiled, the merest hint of fang showing. “As you can see, it’s not mine. Someone just left it on my doorstep and I haven’t a clue what to do with it.”
He was a vampire.
The knowledge stunned Tessa for a moment, almost as much as his appearance on the doorstep had, and fear hit her system like a bullet. As she watched, he shifted on his feet a fraction and the light fell across the marks across the left side of his face and body. Her breath left her lungs in a rush.
“You’re a kyn warrior,” she exclaimed in relief, glad she hadn’t opened her door to a rogue vampire.
Even though the small amount of pixie blood flowing in her veins protected her from being turned into a vampire, rogue vamps were more interested in the high from a kill than turning their victims. And they generally didn’t use a baby as a decoy. They were more into breaking the doors down to get at their victims. A baby would be little more than a macabre snack.
“Live and kicking…name’s Feral,” he introduced himself, grinning a little. The small expression curved his full lips, transforming his rather cruel features…features made starker by the shaved hairstyle… from merely gorgeous, to devastating.
“Tessa, pleased to meet you,” she replied on automatic, silence stretching between them.
*
“So,” Feral continued, “you going to help me out here? The little guy…he’s really beginning to smell bad…” He watched her, hope coiling in his chest. When she’d first opened the door, his heart had sunk. She wasn’t the woman he remembered in the laundry.
However, she was a pixie. He could see the slight glamour clinging to her, making her appear more human. On second inspection, there was also a faint family resemblance to the woman with the diapers. Younger sister maybe? He tried that route.
“I remembered your…sister?” He smiled, a cautious edge in his voice as he hoped he’d gotten it right. Women could be funny about ages. Relief shot through him as she nodded.
“I remembered your sister has kids, so when I found him, I came ‘round to beg mercy…and a couple of diapers.” He grinned as he tried his hardest to be charming and personable. She only had to look at him to see he wasn’t a baby sort of guy. Practicing for making babies, yes. Dealing with the result, no.
Come on, sweetheart, say yes.
His silent plea seemed to work, her coffee-cream eyes flicking over him again. Feral shivered, the look like a caress over his skin. His nipples tightened as a thrill shot through him. She stepped back and released the chain.
“Come on. Bring him in and we’ll get him cleaned up,” she ordered, her voice brusque. Feral stalled, not used to being ordered around… no that was a lie. He was used to being ordered around. Vixen did it regularly, as did their boss Marak, the current kyn monarch. But both Vixen and Marak weren’t people one would want to piss off in a hurry while this woman was, well, tiny. And curvy to boot—the figure the shapeless toweling robe hinted at was enough to make his mouth water.
He followed her into the living room, looking around the plush interior and dismissing it just as quickly. It had all the hallmarks of expensive interior design and was about as interesting as the back of a cereal box.
“Come on. Let’s have him down here then.” She dragged out a changing mat from its hiding place behind the sofa, plopping it on the floor as she glanced at him. “The diapers will be a bit big, but it’s better than leaving him dirty. Can you take his diaper off while I get a fresh one?” She arched an eyebrow, obviously doubting his ability to carry out even that simple task.
“Of course.”
He kneeled to settle the baby in the middle of the changing mat. He could do this. But for such a small, little thing, it took virtually every part of Feral’s body to make sure he was placed carefully on the mat.
“Look, mate, you aren’t making this easy you know,” Feral muttered, trying to get his nose as far away from his hands as he could without turning his head or being on the other side of the room. He’d managed to remove the diaper, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it contained.
He grimaced as he considered the contents, not sure what he was supposed to do now. He’d watched Vixen change her little daughter, Marianne, more times than he could remember, and she’d always made it look easy. Grabbing a wipe, he tried to remove the sticky mess on its ass and quickly found out it wasn’t as easy as it looked.
“What the fuck is this stuff?” he muttered, not managing to clean it off but just smear it around more. “Fucking industrial glue?”
He heard a stifled giggle and found the little pixie woman watching him. At the sight of her, he sucked in a hard breath. She was utterly beautiful. He’d known she was a pixie, and he’d thought he could see through her glamour to what lay beneath, but now he realized the truth. He could see the glamour itself, and the potential of what lay beneath, but nothing more.
Now though, she’d stripped the glamour away and he could see her true appearance. And it was stunning. Exotic, feline-cast eyes dominated a small heart-shaped face, with a tiny button of a nose and full lips he ached to taste. Her chin was small but delicate and the arch of her slender neck, half hidden by the mass of dark curls, made both his cock and his fangs ache. One look and he wanted her in the worst way, under him as he drove both his fangs and his cock into her soft sweetness.
“Just where I like to see a man,” she quipped, “on his knees. Come out of the way. You’re just making it worse.” She shooed him away and then knelt in front of the baby, who was taking advantage of the moment to try and flip himself over. Reaching a hand out, she stopped him just before he managed it and tapped his nose playfully.
“Oh no you don’t, handsome,” she chuckled, catching his ankles in one hand and cleaning him up with the other. Her movements were swift and efficient and within a few seconds, the baby was cleaned up with a fresh diaper on him. Feral blinked, unsure how she’d managed it so quickly. Magic, obviously.
“There we go, all clean and dry. Aren’t you a clever little man?” She fastened his top as he wriggled again, doing his best to escape. Grinning, she caught him, his chortles filling the room as she tickled his sides.
Smiles wreathed her face and Feral bit back another surge of lust. He wanted her. Badly. She wasn’t his normal type. Kyn women tended to be tall, slender and pale whereas she was petite and curvy, with dark warm hair and eyes that reminded him of chocolate. But he didn’t care. Everything about her called out to him. Unaware of his attention, she tickled the baby again, running her fingers along the soles of his bare feet as she reached for his trousers.
“He’s a gorgeous little thing,” she commented. “So, he was just left on your doorstep?”
“Yeah, about half an hour ago. Was a bit of a surprise…usually I just get pizza delivery,” he chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. “Not the domestic type.”
“Pizza? I didn’t think vampires ate?” She flicked a glance up at him while she finished dressing the little one. Picking him up, she handed him over. “Here, hold him for a moment while I clear this lot up. Hey…what’s this?”
A piece of paper fell free of the yellow blanket as she picked it up. Reaching down, she recovered it from the floor as Feral watched, jiggling the now clean-smelling baby in his large arms. It was a sheet from a reporter’s notebook, crumpled and folded into quarters. She smoothed it out and frowned at the words scrawled on it in a hasty hand.
“What’s it say?” He shifted closer, peering over her shoulder. The scent of shower gel and warm woman enveloped her, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He really needed to get laid if just being close to a woman stirred up a reaction like that.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s an old fae script, I think… This is more Lisa’s kettle of fish than mine. Some of it I recognize,” she pointed out a word in the middle, fingernail tapping the paper lightly. “This is the word for Morrigan. Oh, shit!”
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“What? What is it?” Feral frowned, brows raised.
“He…the baby…he’s a Morrigan. There’s a fae prophecy about a male Morrigan… The only male Morrigan.” She swallowed, visibly shaken. “When he grows up, I think he’s going to be a god.”

Mina was born and raised in the East Farthing of Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England) and spend her childhood learning all the sorts of things generally required of a professional adventurer. Able to ride, box, shoot, make and read maps, make chainmail and use a broadsword (with varying degrees of efficiency) she was disgusted to find that adventuring is not considered a suitable occupation these days.

So, instead of slaying dragons and hunting vampires and the like, Mina spends her days writing about hot shifters, government conspiracies and vampire lords with more than their fair share of RAWR. Turns out wanna-be adventurers have quite the turn of imagination after all…

(But she keeps that sword sharp, just in case the writing career is just a dream and she really *is* an adventurer.)

The boring part: A full time author and cover artist, Mina can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or graphics tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She’s addicted to coffee and would like to be addicted to chocolate, but unfortunately chocolate dislikes her.
Author Links

Three of a Kind by Susan Hayes

Title: Three of a Kind

Author: Susan Hayes

Series: The Drift, Book 4

Genre: Sci-Fi romance, Menage

Blurb

When the chips are down and the stakes are high, winning takes three of a kind
Dr. Alyson Jefferies treats everyone who comes through the doors of her medical clinic, regardless of species or social standing. The corporations who run the Drift don’t approve of her open-door policy, but Alyson is determined to fight for her patients, no matter what.
Cyborg brothers Dirk, Blade, and Lance Trello were designed for combat, but the Resource Wars ended before they drew their first breath. Soldiers without a war, they drift from place to place, looking for a purpose and a reason to settle down.

When corporate secrets and hidden agendas put Alyson’s life in peril, the three hot-blooded brothers know they’ve found a cause worth fighting for. They are going to protect their defiant doctor—while trying to convince her that sometimes the best things in life come in threes.

Book is on sale for 20% off until June 25th, 2017

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Excerpt

When she yawned for the third time, she decided it was time for a cup of tea. That would keep her going for another hour or so. She headed to the kitchen, and stopped short when Dirk appeared in the hall in front of her.

“Your bedroom is in the other direction.”

“Yes, it is. But the kitchen is where the tea is.” She tried to step around him, but he folded his arms across his chest and moved in front of her again.

“You don’t need tea. You need sleep.”

“I’m fine. I learned to go without sleep while I was in med school.” She tapped his forearm with her finger. “So, if you’d get out of my way I’ll go get my tea.”

“Not going to happen. You’ve had a hell of a day, and you’re exhausted. I’m not a doctor, but even I can tell you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

She stifled another yawn and pointed toward the kitchen. “I’ll sleep in an hour. I promise.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” he asked, but his lips were turned up into a grin that belied the annoyed tone in his voice.

“Always.” She hadn’t gotten this far in her career, or her life, by backing down, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“Noted. But you’re still not getting your way. Not this time.”

He moved so fast she didn’t have time to do more than blink before he bent over and hauled her over one massive shoulder. When he straightened, she yelped in surprise and started kicking and squirming. She knew it was hopeless, but she wasn’t going to suffer through this indignity without a fight. Her fuzzy slippers thumped against his side, and every time they connected, dots of purple lights danced across the walls and ceiling.

Put me down, you jerk!”

He clamped an arm across the back of her thighs, locking down her legs and started walking down the hall, away from the kitchen. “I’ll put you down when we get to your bedroom.”

She smacked her hand against his ass, which was the only part of him she could reach as she dangled off his shoulder. “I was wrong. You’re not jerk. You’re an asshole. You know what’s worse than eavesdropping? This. This is worse.”

A door slid open somewhere in front of them, but all she could see was Dirk’s broad back.

“I heard yelling. Is everything okay?”

She wriggled again. “No, it’s not. You’re supposed to be my bodyguard, so help me! Make Dirk put me down right now.”

“Uh, Dirk, is there a reason our protectee is upside down and royally pissed off?”

“She needs to go to bed and is too stubborn to admit it. So, I’m escorting her there.”

“Uh huh.” Blade appeared beside her, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Cute slippers.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“I’m not. You need rest. You aren’t any good to anyone if you’re too tired to think.”

“You’re both assholes.” She gave up arguing and went limp.

“Yeah, but we’re still right. Good night, Doc.” Blade gave her a jaunty wave and vanished from sight again, still chuckling.

Meet the Author

Susan lives on Vancouver Island, off the Canadian west coast where the waters are patrolled by orcas and the sighting of snowflakes leads to citywide panic. She’s jumped out of perfectly good airplanes on purpose and accidently swum with sharks on the Great Barrier Reef.

If the world ends, she plans to survive as the spunky, comedic sidekick to the heroes of the new world, because she’s too short and out of shape to make it on her own for long.

Author Web & Social Media links:

Website link: http://susanhayes.ca

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanHayesAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SHayesRomance or @SHayesRomance

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At His Mercy by Shelly Bell

 

Angel in his arms . . . Devil at her heels

One last, no-strings night of indulgence. That’s all Tristan wants before he begins a much-needed new chapter in his life. Instead he finds an innocent angel in pink who brings him to his knees.

Isabella is done hiding from the world . . . and her haunting memories. Discovering courage in the arms of a perfect stranger, she finally lets go and sheds her inhibitions.

To Isabella’s shock, she soon learns that Tristan is more than her mystery man-he’s her professor. But Tristan isn’t the only person who’s found Isabella on campus. A dark figure from her past has come back for her. Now Tristan will risk anything to protect Isabella . . . even if it costs him his life.
“Good morning, everyone.”

Bent over, she froze. Her body broke out in goosebumps and her heart thumped erratically.
It wasn’t possible. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. There was no way that the man who had dominated her last week could be there right now, twelve hours north of the city where they’d met. She racked her brain, trying to remember if he’d mentioned anything about his personal life, but she came up completely empty. There had been plenty of innuendo and dirty talk during that night, but he’d never revealed anything about himself other than his first name.

How could he be a professor at his age? Weren’t they supposed to be…old?

But as the man behind the voice passed her on his way to the front of the room, she caught his scent, a scent she’d fantasized about for days, and sat up tall. Her gaze latched onto the back of him, raking over his lean form, and her chest tightened as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Just a few days ago, that form had been between her thighs.

When he reached the podium at the front of the room, he turned to the class. “I’m Professor Kelley, and I’ll be teaching Intro to Business this semester in Professor Crawford’s place.”

Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair, gripping it as if it could save her from the horror of the situation.

She couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Memories of that night swirled through her mind, lighting her on fire. Him caging her against the wall as they negotiated underneath the stars. Him biting her breasts and sucking her nipples until she writhed in ecstasy. Him intertwining their hands and looking into her eyes as he slowly brought her to an explosive climax. Him waking her up twice more that night, one time with his mouth between her legs.

Oh my God.

It was him.

Tristan.

She had fucked her professor.

Properly.

Hell, the bruises from that night still marred her skin. Whenever she changed her clothes, she’d made a point of checking to see if they were still there. They were reminders of how easily he’d commanded her body and the ways he’d brought her pleasure through pain.

She thought she’d never see him again, but now he was here, standing in front of her wearing a white button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up, showing off those muscular forearms of his, and all she could think about was how he’d used those muscles to hold himself over her as he thrust inside her.

“What happened to Professor Crawford?” a girl asked from the back.

Right. Professor Crawford. The man she was supposed to assist all year for her work-study. The one who held the future of her college education in his hands.

Tristan—no—Professor Kelley directed his attention to the girl sitting only a few rows behind Isabella, causing her heart to go from a gallop to a full-on sprint. Would he recognize her when he saw her? Or was she already forgotten as just one more interchangeable girl in a long line of submissives he’d fucked? She didn’t know which was worse.

“Unfortunately, Professor Crawford had a stroke a couple of weeks ago,” he said, only a handful of feet away from her. Why did she have to sit in the front row? “Dean Lancaster has asked me to take over his classes for the year.”

For a second, she lost the ability to breathe. Professor Crawford didn’t hold the future of her college education in his hands…

Professor Kelley did.

She was at his mercy.
A sucker for a happy ending, Shelly Bell writes erotic suspense and action-filled erotic thrillers with high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kick-ass heroines.

She began writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the store and bought her a laptop. When she’s not working her day job, taking care of her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.

She is the author of the BENEDICTION and FORBIDDEN LOVERS series.