99¢ till 3/2/19
See how the story began!
Rachel, Angie, and Jo thought they inherited
an antique shop.
Instead, they got a collection of curses
and a duty to break them.
Rachel, Angie, and Jo knew nothing about their aunt’s secret life. In fact, they didn’t even know she owned an antique shop, until they inherited it. Unfortunately, Lydia passed down more than just her store. The sisters are the proud new owners of countless deadly curses, buried under centuries of dust.
Lydia also left behind her apprentice, Peter. He does everything he can to protect the girls, as they explore their new store, unaware of the dangers it hides. In spite of his efforts, Rachel finds herself obsessed with opening a strange trunk, Angie has vivid dreams, haunted by a man who claims he needs her help, and Jo’s imagination starts to run wild.
When one of them falls victim to a curse, it’s up to Peter and her sisters to save her. But, if Peter can’t teach them to wield a magic, that he barely understands himself, she’ll be the first one to die.
Catch up now before Wrought Iron Roses
releases March 21st.
Sisters Rachel, Angie, and Jo may have survived their first encounter with a curse, but hundreds more are lurking within their aunt’s antique shop. There’s just one problem: Peter, the apprentice, has no idea how to start teaching two untrained rune-casters and keep them safe at the same time.
It isn’t fair to Jo that she has no magic, but her sisters both do. She feels useless and left out. Worse yet, she knows that she’s a liability. She would leave… but, something in the shop is calling to her, reaching out … and she won’t leave until she finds it.
Every night, Angie’s dreams are haunted by a man who claims he was cursed, and she’s the only one who can save him. When she starts to get sick, Peter and her sisters are sure the cause is her mysterious dreams. How can they convince her that the person she’s determined to help could be the one killing her?
Rachel never expected to get a magic power and a boyfriend when she inherited the antique shop. Better yet, she’s actually good at curse-breaking. It seems as though she’s found exactly what she was meant to do. But, when a curse strikes two people she cares about, Rachel is faced with the harsh truth that she might only be able to save one.
Publisher: Eve D. Ackerman
Release Date: February 26, 2019
Hijacking an Englishman from a brothel is all in a dayâs work for Captain Mattie St. Armand. She needs protective coloration, and a naÃ¯ve (and expendable) white man will keep the eyes of the authorities off her as she smuggles slaves from the Florida Territory to freedom in the Bahamas.
Oliver Woodruff wanted a spot of travel in the Caribbean before he settled down, but he never expected âMarauding Mattie.â Heâll help her, but he knows thereâs no place in his world for the bastard daughter of a pirate and a freedwoman.
As Mattie trains him for their ruse, she comes to realize heâs a man she can turn to for support and companionship, and Oliver grows to love the commanding and daring woman who refuses to fit societyâs moldâ¦ but both are sure their relationship is doomed by societyâs taboos.
It will take danger and adventure (and Roscoe the parrot) to convince them that the passion between them is more than an island fantasy.
âI donât need a useless white boy. Find someone else to take him off your hands.â
âNot a boy, a man. The sort you favor, captainâgolden curls, pouty mouth. Heâs quite pretty, I know youâll agree.â
Captain St. Armand stretched out long legs clad in close fitting buckskins, admiring the shine on boots freshly polished. The brothel on St. Martin offered a variety of services to its clients, from excellent meals to boot-blacking, along with the usual amenities one expected from such establishments.
âIf I bring a pretty lad aboard ship, everyone will want one. I donât share my toys.â
âYouâll take him,â the madam said. âIâm calling in my marker for the incident last year.â
âThat wasnât my fault!â
âYour ship, your crew, your fault, St. Armand.â
âReally, that man needed some excitement in his life.â
âThatâs not the excitement Mr. Carlson sought at this house. He never expected a goat.â
St. Armand snickered at the memory. âI still say what youâre asking is excessive.â
âI thought youâd turn me down.â Barbara Simpson took a sip of the sherry sheâd served herself. Her guest was drinking Jamaican rum, as usual. âYou should know though, the young man in question is Bunny Rathboneâs relation.â
âBunny Rathbone! How is the dear old boy?â
âHeâs well, moving up in the world. He wrote me to say his cousin was touring the islands and if he came here I should treat him as an honored guest. Bunny implied Mr. Woodruff needed to experience more of life. To put it bluntly, he called the young man a âstuffy, boring stick.â I invited him to the house, but first he ran into a spot of trouble and I brought him here for safekeeping.â
The doors to the parlor were open to catch the afternoon breezes rustling through the bougainvilleaâa restful pause before business commenced for the evening. Comfortably rounded and middle-aged, Mrs. Simpson was a shrewd businesswoman whose motto was to give the clients what they desiredâwithin reasonâand to treat her girls as sheâd wanted to be treated when sheâd worked there. Sheâd miss Captain St. Armand, a favored customer setting sail for Nassau after a stop to provision and catch up on mail and messages from home. A packed valise waited near the door.
âThe two of us have fond memories of Bunnyâs visits to this house, but Iâm sailing on the tide, so bring your package out here and let me see for myself.â
The madamâs bully boys were summoned and returned a short while later with their âpackageâ struggling between them in a futile attempt at freedom. It was a young man in his mid-twenties, and, as promised, he had bright gold hair and sky-blue eyes. One of those eyes was blackened, and a bruise discolored the left side of his face. He was also gagged with his hands tied in front of him.
âAs you see, I need your help taking him away, and you could use a cabin boy. You told me so yourself. Mr. Woodruff has an unfortunate habit of speaking intemperately, and there were people who took exception to what he said.â
âAmericans. Ah, I thought that would interest you.â
âI am slightly tempted,â the captain said, looking the young man over. âI may have a use for him, other than the obvious one. As always, you have an excellent eye for the goods.â
The captive made a noise muffled by his gag.
âDonât look so horrified, Sunshine. The workâs not onerous and it comes with special benefits. If heâs annoying the Americans Iâm thinking of, it makes him far more trouble than heâs worth, Barbara. Iâll pay you for the goat incident and leave him to his own devices.â
âThe goat incident set me back twenty-five pounds, not to mention the free services Mr. Carlson received for his embarrassment. You owe me, but if you take Woodruff with you to Nassau weâll call it done.â
She directed one of her men to get the captiveâs gear. The captain pulled a fine cigar from the mahogany box on the table, taking time to light it and inhale before answering.
âTwenty-five pounds? I donât care how pouty his mouth is, thereâs not a man alive worth that amount.â
The bound man squawked again, jerking against the hold on his arms.
âUntie the gag, James. Maybe Woodruff can convince me of his worth.â
The gag removed, the captive worked his square jaw back and forth, glaring at them.
âI demand you release me at once! I am a British citizen and I will notify the authorities!â
St. Armand looked at Mrs. Simpson, then both laughed aloud. Even the guard chuckled.
âHow do you intend to back up that demand?â St. Armand asked. âDid you happen to bring a knife with you? Or guns? Or friends with guns?â
âFriends with guns are good, Captain.â
âIndeed they are, James, but I donât believe Woodruff has friends here, with or without guns.â
âYou cannot hold me here! I did not come to the islands to end up in a bawdy house!â he protested.
âWell, thatâs your problem right there, Sunshine.â
Woodruff took a deep breath, then looked at the mistress of the house.
âYou are not responsible for me, Mrs. Simpson. I am not unappreciative of your protecting me by keeping me here, but I can take care of myself.â
âYou donât seem to be doing a good job of it so far.â
He glared at the sea captain.
âI do not know what your interest in my affairs is, sir, but I do not need your assistance.â He started to step forward, but Jamesâs heavy hand on his shoulder kept him in place.
St. Armand set down the cigar.
âItâs not up to you. Hold out your hands.â
Almost reflexively the man thrust his arms out. St. Armandâs knife sliced through the knots, but when Woodruff tried to pull his arm back, the captain gripped his hand and turned it over.
âSoft and smooth as a nunâs arse. Youâve never hauled lines or done work harder than holding a pen. Donât look so astounded. I can tell youâre a scribbler from this callus on your finger.â Cold eyes scanned him from his face down to his feet. âSoft all over. I only take crew and cargo aboard my vessel. You are worthless to me.â
The brothel owner delicately cleared her throat.
âGoats, St. Armand. Remember the goats. You donât have to keep him forever, like a pet. Take him to Nassau or Jamaica and leave him there. You owe me, and I oweââshe paused and looked at her guestââour mutual friend, so letâs be reasonable about this.â
Woodruff stared at the sea captain. âYou are Captain St. Armand? The Captain St. Armand, of the Prodigal Son?â
Before he could answer, the brothelâs majordomo knocked at the door.
âA note arrived for the captain, maâam, and itâs marked urgent.â
St. Armand read the rumpled paper, a frown creasing the lean face.
âThereâs no time for further debate. Iâll dispose of this person for you, Barbara, and make sure the bodyâs well hidden.â
âWhat? You canât kill me!â
They ignored such a patently ridiculous statement, but Mrs. Simpson shook her head.
âI must insist.â
âOh, very well. Woodruff, youâre coming with me. Your only choice is whether itâs bound and across your saddle, or riding.â
He appeared ready to argue, but after one look at St. Armandâs set face said, âIâll ride.â
âYouâll find a way to turn a profit on him,â Mrs. Simpson said, rising to her feet as well, âI know you.â
âThere is that,â St. Armand said cheerfully. âHe could have an unfortunate and fatal accident aboard ship, and I know a surgeon in Nassau who pays well for fresh cadavers. Donât look so pasty-faced, boy. If you follow orders, you should survive long enough to keep scribbling. The first order is thisâ¦ The captain is always right, and when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Say âAye, Captainâ if you understand.â
Woodruff looked at him and swallowed.
About the Author
Darlene Marshall is the author of award-winning historical romance featuring pirates, privateers, smugglers, and the occasional possum. She loves working at a job where business attire is shorts and a shirt festooned with pink flamingos and palm trees. Marshall lives in North Central Florida, a convenient location for putting the convertible top down and researching sites of great historical significance, which also happen to be at the beach and serve mojitos.
Marshall is a graduate of the University of Florida and worked as a broadcast and print journalist, news anchor, radio station owner, obituary writer and a few other odd jobs. She's section leader for Erotic Writing at TheLitForum.com.
Her books have been published in English, German and Estonian. Awards include the New England Chapter RWA (Romance Writers of America) Readers' Choice Award and Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence for The Pirate's Secret Baby; the Denver RWA Aspen Gold award (Castaway Dreams); the First Coast Romance Writers National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award (The Bride and the Buccaneer), and two EPIC awards.
Represented by Barbara Collins Rosenberg of the Rosenberg Group.
“Where do you go, Hazel Malloy?” Gabriel said in her ear.
“I can feel you thinking hard.” He chuckled.
Hazel smiled. “I like this song,” she said, embarrassed as though he could actually tell that he’d caught her thinking about him.
“I do too.” He pressed his cheek to hers, and she let him.
As the song ended, there was a slight disturbance from the far end of the room. Hazel glanced up, and her heart paused.
Stanley stood in the entrance of the conservatory, tall and suited up, a hard look on his face, one eye almost swollen shut. He was flanked by some of his Knights, looking rough and out of place in suits, smirks on their faces as they scanned the room. It was like Eliot Ness and his Untouchables about to raid.
The “good people” of St. Louis stared uneasily and made way as the boys stalked into the room. Hazel sometimes forgot what they must look like to everyone else. They were a tough looking lot, battle scarred, and imposing.
The song ended and in the pause before the next one began, Stanley took long strides across the room, toward where Hazel and Gabriel stood, still holding hands.
Stanley’s eye twitched. “Heya, Haze.” He tilted his head toward Gabriel. “If it isn’t soft slugger trying to get to first base.” His jaw flexed, and he breathed in through his nose, and Hazel knew he was counting to ten.
Gabriel released Hazel’s hand and calmly replied, “Good to see you, Fields. You clean up nice.”
The Demon King’s Destiny
Only 99¢ for a limited time!
Evelyn felt the change before she opened her eyes. Her stance widened and her hands flexed with her magics.
No calm breeze brushed across the clearing. Tonight, a blistering wind struck her form, its howling whistle bounced irritatingly off her eardrums.
Instead of soft blues and purples, the moon was giving off shades of red and orange. Flames crackled and licked the trees of the forest, but nothing was burning. The dreamworld, or something in it, was irritated.
Slowly, she rotated, seeking information, waiting for the elements to speak. They buzzed, drawing her attention to one of the paths connecting the clearing to the woods.
The fire split into columns on either side of the trail and a form emerged from within the inferno. Tall, with broad shoulders and a lean trunk, the male stalked forward.
Blackened eyes locked on hers, so intense she felt them in her core. Long, predatory strides moved him directly in her path. Without thought, Evelyn opened the barrier and he stepped into the clearing.
The wind screamed and the only other sound she could hear was the boom of her thundering heart. He advanced swiftly, everything about his approach screamed he was a man possessed. His intent couldn’t be clearer.
In two second she was in his arms, his mouth slamming into hers. This first kiss—the first she’d ever experienced—was hard and unyielding. It was nothing like she had imagined, and almost more than she was prepared to receive. This wasn’t the kiss of a lover. It was a punishment.
Evelyn gasped and Marrok took advantage of her parted lips, driving his tongue into her mouth. Her fingers clenched the fabric on his shoulders as she trembled in his embrace, struggling to stay on her feet.
Her veins throbbed, her heated blood reaching a rapid boil. His arms tightened and she knew he’d never let her fall.
Evelyn felt him everywhere. His powers slid up and down her skin, caressing, inciting. Their shared breaths depleted her of oxygen and tiny pinpoints of light burst from behind her eyelids.
The high-pitched winds built into a crescendo and the blazes roared. Higher and higher until the dreamworld exploded with a blinding radiance, bathing their bodies in the white of their magics before returning once more to muted colors and a calm breeze. The forest was once again covered in purple and blue moonbeams.
The world settled, along with Marrok’s spirit. He’d been on the verge of something terrible. He’d gotten worse every day without his saatus. Another two years without her was out of the question.
Feeling once more in control of himself, he slowed the kiss, bringing a hand up to palm the back of her head. His lips drifted to the corner of her mouth, then to her temple, before dropping to her ear.
“Never again, moj draga,” he warned, biting her earlobe.
She shivered. “P-pardon?”
“You’ll never again wait so long to summon me.” He failed to mention his own unsuccessful attempts to enter her world.
Evelyn, still reeling from his arduous assault, took a moment to process. He was upset she hadn’t pulled him into her dreams. She smiled against his chest, then tipped her head back.
“Missed me, did you?”
“I’m not. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“I don’t know you well enough to miss you. But I never imagined, little mate, once I’d confirmed for you that you were my saatus, you’d wait so long.”
Evelyn attempted to free herself from his arms. He didn’t budge and she glared up at him. “And I didn’t think, once you confirmed for me that I was your saatus, you’d do absolutely nothing to find me.”
He let go and she felt oddly bereft when he put space between them.
“So you didn’t call for me out of some sort of revenge?” he snapped, trying to let go of the last of his frustration.
“What? Of course not. And what makes you think I didn’t call for you?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He glared at his gorgeous mate, who had physically matured greatly in these last two years. Evelyn would be twenty-one by the next solstice, which meant she’d reached full physical maturity during their time apart.
Her cheekbones were more pronounced, giving off a regal countenance. Her small nose pointed to two full, pouty lips, still swollen from their shared passion.
Her breasts were larger, rounder, making her waist appear tiny. Maybe it was tiny. He was having trouble concentrating, caught between spanking her arse and kissing her senseless again.
“I think you didn’t call for me because I haven’t seen you in almost two and a half years, Evelyn.”
A thrill shot through her. Marrok really was upset about being away from her. He must have missed her greatly. “I’ll remind you I have no idea how you come to me in my dreams. Besides, I thought demons could break into the dreams of others, if they chose.”
His arms crossed, not liking the reminder. He, too, had tried everything he knew of to enter her dreamworld. For more than two years he’d desperately hunted her in his sleep, needing the touch of her skin to sooth his mind. With every attempt, he came up against a barrier he could not breach.
He’d come close to riding on Gwydion to retrieve her. When he’d last left, she’d been battered and bruised. He wanted to know of her health, to look upon her with his own eyes. The dreamworld was the only safe place to do so.
Several more attempts had been made by the rogues to breach the walls of the Terenuskit Fortress, the building he called home. Only the constant fighting kept him away from his mate. It reinforced the fact she would not be safe in Sundari.
Marrok was the strongest of his species. It was too risky for him to travel to the Westland and leave his people vulnerable. Or, worse, risk rogue demons following him. He was loath to bring her to the Southland. What was he to do? He felt like he was fighting on every front of his existence.
Evelyn licked her lips and he fixated on the reddened skin. He hadn’t intended to be so rough and he certainly hadn’t expected her to return with equal fervor. His trousers had grown uncomfortably tight, a direct result of her enthusiasm.
“If it means anything,” she said, “I did try reaching out to you. I’ve tried every night since. I was afraid you wouldn’t come for me so I tried to pull you here. I thought … I was afraid something had happened to you. They cut you.” Her voice whispered the last part sadly.
Marrok’s face softened. His mate had worried he’d been harmed. He reached for her and she didn’t resist his embrace.
Resting his chin atop her head, he told her, “I tried, as well. Dreamwalking is tricky business and, obviously, I was just as unsuccessful.”
“Why didn’t you come for me? To Gwydion?”
“My kingdom is not a safe place to be. I’m not inclined to endanger you.”
“Then don’t bring me to Sundari. You can still come to see me, to visit, maybe speak to my father?” she added hopefully.
Marrok exhaled. “Walk with me.”
He spoke with no emotion and Evelyn’s heart plummeted. He wasn’t going to come for her.
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Title: The Dragon Heart Series Coloring Book
Author: L.L. Hunter
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Illustrator: Arnild Aldepolla
Publication Date: February 4th, 2019
There is a place that is parallel to you and me, but yet it is not.
It does not have a name nor has it ever been mapped.
The only thing we know about this place is that it is filled with every creature you have ever heard of, but some you have not.
How do we know so much about this place you may ask?
Turn the page and discover for yourself.
For these are just a handful of stories from some of the creatures that live thereâ¦
Based on L.L. Hunterâs bestselling fantasy series,
This colouring book features scenes from all four books in the Dragon Heart world.
L.L. Hunter is the author of over 20 published works, including The Legend of the Archangel Series and The Garden of Eden. She has studied everything from veterinary nursing, forensic science, and dramatic arts, but has always known her true calling was to be an author. She has been writing since her teens - everything from fan fiction, to song lyrics, to plays and musicals. When not working on her next paranormal romance, she can be found at home in Australia, reading somewhere comfortable with one or both of her âfur babies.â Follow her on Facebook, Twitter @llhunterbooks, and her blog - .
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