Fangs and Frenemies: A Blue Moon Bay Cozy Mystery
-- EXCERPT: I pressed the button to unlock Trixie, but nothing happened. Desperately I tried again, over and over. Couldn’t even hear her voice. “Crud! The remote battery must be dead.” Max jogged back over, looking curious. “Maybe you could just fly to him, or something?” I rolled my eyes at her. “Witches don’t fly, that’s a myth.” “Not even with a broomstick?” “Also a myth.” “Can you stop time?” “I’m a kitchen witch, not freakin’ Dr. Who.” “Teleportation spell? “That is a real thing,” I admitted grudgingly. “I’m just . . . not very good at those kinds of spells yet.” Or Mary Poppins clean up spells. Or reading auras. “Right then.” Max closed her eyes and screwed up her face into a grimace. “Wow, sorry that my witch skills aren’t up to your high standards,” I muttered, miffed. Max’s eyes opened in surprise. “Hazel, I’m not judging you.” “That’s not your judgy face?” “No, it’s my shifting face. I’m getting ready to shift into a bobcat so I can sprint back home and get my car for you.” I stared at her. “Wait, what?” “Yeah, I thought I’d leave it at home today, it was nice and sunny . . . ” “Not that. You didn’t by any chance just say you were turning into a bobcat?” “Guess I did.” Max shrugged and made a lackadaisical “oops” face. “Welp, that was me coming out. You can process the whole ‘shifter’ thing while I get us some wheels.” I didn’t so much see Max shift as I saw her clothes fall to the floor in a soft heap. A graceful, brown-spotted wildcat with black-tufted ears bounded past me. Picking up her still-warm shirt, I caught a whiff of the pleasant, woodsy essential oil blend she liked to mix up and use as perfume. Made sense. A bobcat liked the smell of the woods. There wasn’t really much to process. Except what an idiot I’d been not to have guessed it all ten years ago. This explained so much.
GIVEAWAY!
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Georgie’s Secret
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GIVEAWAY! Reluctant Heiress
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: In the corner of the tiny room was a desk, not unlike the one her mother used. Dulcie couldn’t imagine anyone doing much work or reading in that windowless room, with its one lamp and overhead light being the only sources of illumination. Despite this, there were papers neatly stacked on the desk and a quick search of the drawers produced newspaper clippings of her school accomplishments, files containing pictures of her throughout the years, and some letters still in envelopes. Grabbing all the papers she could carry to the bed, she sat carefully so as not to disturb the bedclothes too much. She gently spread the papers in front of her and began to uncover the truth. Her parents were, in fact, not her parents after all. Her real father was one of the mysterious Nashville relatives that they never visited or discussed. She recognized the man’s name, though, as he had recently been on the news. He was under investigation for racketeering and money laundering. She then also discovered the existence of her two older brothers: one apparently also a criminal, and the other a college student. She spent all afternoon there, reading and re-reading the documents she found. Sometime before she expected her “parents” to be home, she gathered up all the papers to return them. She wasn’t sure how or when she wanted to confront them with this information, so she wanted to cover her tracks well. Before she placed the documents back in the desk, she thought the drawer looked very strange to her. She ran her fingers along the sides and bottom of the drawer and discovered a section which was not completely lined up with the rest. She gently pressed down on one corner, and the whole foundation of the drawer rose up as if on a spring. A false bottom! Carefully removing the dislodged piece of wood she could see another file folder underneath. Easing the folder from its hiding spot she wondered what could possibly warrant so much secrecy in light of all the rest she had discovered that day. Her hands shook as she thumbed through the faded newspaper clippings inside. The woman in the photos looked just like her. The hair was styled differently and she was obviously an adult, but the resemblance was remarkable. The same red hair, the same arch of the eyebrows and bend of the nose. The article reported on the death of the woman in a car accident which was under investigation. The next article gave an update on the investigation, stating police suspected foul play caused the accident that killed her. The third article explained the police had determined it was definitely not an accident at all, and that it was now being examined as a murder scene. There were no other clippings to explain anything else. Her eyes focused on the date on the top of the clipping and she shook her head in disbelief. The woman had died just a few months after Dulcie was born. Underneath the clippings were a few full-color pictures of the woman. The woman looked alive, joyful, and content. The last picture was of the woman’s warm and smiling face as she looked lovingly at the tiny, sleeping, red-headed baby girl in her arms. She flipped the picture over to find someone had written “Ellie and Dulcie” on the back. Dulcie sank to the floor with the realization she was the baby in the picture and the woman had been her mother. And her mother had been murdered.
GIVEAWAY! Rumba
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Sophie returns to the table with a coy grin but doesn’t take her seat. Instead, she holds out her hand, challenging me with her caramel eyes. “Supongo que sabes rumba, Señor Ramirez?” I assume you know how to rumba, Mr. Ramirez? I inwardly cringe at the use of my false name, especially after the very personal and very true emotional bomb I just dropped. But I sense what she’s doing, and I’m grateful for her insight. She knew the memory had been too much for me to share. Could feel my overwhelming sadness and didn’t push me further. Instead, she’s giving me an out. A way of not talking about it and pushing the reset button. I take her hand and rise. But not before plucking one of the red roses from the vase on the table. She twirls slowly, once, before allowing me to take her in my arms and assume the close embrace position of the dance. The red rose is trapped between our connected hands. Our feet are practically locked together as we glide over the wooden floor. Not smoothly like a waltz, not with purpose like a samba or salsa. But a sensual sway against each other, our bodies moving fluidly to the quick-quick-slow tempo of the rumba rhythm. Her hips swerve slowly. Her hands caress sensuously. Her eyes glaze carnally. Fuck. Then she goes into a dip and wraps her leg around my waist, the slit in her dress rising dangerously high. That’s when I feel her heat…rubbing directly against my hardening dick. Double fuck. “You wearing panties, Sophie?” Her eyes droop. “Barely.” I groan. “I feel you. You’re so hot, baby.” Her brow furrows as she bites her lip. “And you’re hard.” I thrust my hips on her last whispered word, making her gasp. “Ay, so hard.” “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” “Do you even have to ask?” That wanton comment spikes my blood. Sophie is an irresistibly sexual being. Everything she does reminds a man of what she would feel like wrapped around him. I can’t resist her when she’s spewing attitude and sass in my face, spitting Spanish curses with all that Latina fire. But this sexually bold side of her? The side that’s pliant and opening like a spring blossom in my arms? I will never want anything more desperately than this woman. “I think this dress was specifically made for you to torture me with.” “You chose it.” And thank God for that. “I must be a masochist. You’re exquisite in it, but I’ve never hated a dress so much in my fucking life.” I clamp my hand around her waist tighter at the sound of her light chuckle. This heavenly creature in my arms fills me with emotions that are more hedonistic in nature than angelic. The power of her tempting flesh is consuming me to the point of debauchery on a primal, animalistic level. The need to own every part of her, body and soul, is poisoning me down to my core. She’s corrupting my very being. If anything, you’re corrupting her.
GIVEAWAY!
Title: When Wishes Bleed
Author: Casey L. Bond
Genre: YA Fantasy
Editor: Stacy Sanford/ The Girl with the Red Pen
Cover Designer: Melissa Stevens/ The Illustrated Author Design Services
Publication Date: November 1st, 2019
Hosted by: Lady Amberâs PR
Blurb: One Prince. One Witch. One Fate.
The upheaval in my life began the moment a prince stumbled into my house and asked me to read his fortune. Any other night, I might have made an excuse to get him to leave, but this was no normal visit. My fingers prickled to touch him. So, I granted his request by handing him a single wishbone. When he snapped it, the wish ⦠bled.
Hearing me suck in a shocked breath, he asked what it meant. Such an ominous omen could only mean one thing: his death was imminent. Fate revealed that he wouldnât die of natural causes. Someone wanted him dead. Stunned by the revelation, the man I now knew as Prince Tauren disappeared into a night I feared he wouldnât survive. The following day, I received an invitation to the castle. While it seemed the prince believed I could intervene and uncover who was plotting his death, his motives didnât stop there. I was being summoned to join twelve other women in vying for the opportunity to be his wife and future queen.
Going could mean jeopardizing my plans to reclaim my heritage and resurrect the House of Fate. But staying would guarantee Taurenâs death, and the blood of his wish would be on my hands.
Casey Bond lives in West Virginia with her husband and their two beautiful daughters. She likes goats and yoga, but hasn't tried goat yoga because the family goat is so big he might break her back. Seriously, he's the size of a pony. Her favorite books are the ones that contain magical worlds and flawed characters she would want to hang out with. Most days of the week, she writes young adult fantasy books, letting her imaginary friends spill onto the blank page.
Casey is the award-winning author of When Wishes Bleed, the Frenzy series, and fairy tale retellings such as Riches to Rags, Savage Beauty, Unlocked and Brutal Curse. Learn more about her work at www.authorcaseybond.com.
Author Links:
Website: www.authorcaseybond.comFacebook: www.facebook.com/authorcaseybondTwitter: https://twitter.com/authorcaseybondGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7212486.Casey_L_BondPinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/caseyb007Amazon: http://amzn.to/1PmE0pg
Bond-Tourage: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1032678336804562/
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gcAu9v
Meant to Be
(The Next Generation Book 2) Robin Nadler Blurb: Cassie is home, but Ian has yet to tell her the whole truth. Desi and David found their way back to each other, but her diagnosis throws their plans into a tailspin. Tommy is healing, but the damage he suffered will be hard to overcome. Robbie and Tessa. A love that blossomed from their teens into a romance full of passion and fire. Both are dealing with health issues which threaten their future. Robbie’s dad enters the picture. Can their love survive their hidden truths? And finally, Jimmy is hurt. Sabrina is begging him to hold on. Josie is in trouble. Nobody knows where they are. Will help come before it’s too late? For everyone? Buy Link: https://amzn.to/2N7K93r |
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