Titles: Redemption (Moonchild, #3)
Author: Kate L Mary
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic Futuristic Steampunk
Publisher: Twisted Press
Editor: Lori Whitwam
Publication Date: May 16th, 2019
Hosted by: Lady Amberâs PR
Kate L. Mary is an award-winning author of Adult, New Adult, and Young Adult fiction, ranging from Post-apocalyptic tales of the undead to Speculative Fiction and Contemporary Romance! Her YA book, When We Were Human, was a 2015 Children's Moonbeam Book Awards Silver Medal winner for Young Adult Fantasy/Sci-Fi Fiction, and a 2016 Readers' Favorite Gold Medal winner for Young Adult Science Fiction. Her book, Outliers, was a Top 10 Finalist in the 2018 Author Academy Awards for Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction, and a First Place Winner in the 2018 Kindle Book Awards for Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction.
Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/KateLMaryReaders/
Title: Unholy Ground
Author: Christine Pope
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Cover Designer: Christian Bentulan (Covers by Christian)
Editor: Katherine Tomlinson, Story Authority
Publisher: Dark Valentine Press
Publication Date: April 17th, 2019
USA Today bestseller Christine Pope is the author of the paranormal romance Witches of Cleopatra Hill series and the Djinn Wars series, among many other books (sixty and counting!). Researching UFOs brought her to magical Sedona, Arizona, where she now makes her home. Find out more about her books at christinepope.com.
A Gift of Jacinth
Stone of Matter
The brothers realized the massive shapes were not mythical sea monsters, but wooden ships with billowing sails. There were twelve of them. Foreign ships approaching rapidly from the west, releasing a hellfire of metal upon the Isle. Ammon had heard stories of pirates before that day. It had all seemed like fantasy before then, though incomparable to leviathans.
He felt a flood of new questions pour into his mind, all concerning the outside world. The first of which was, Why would they hurt us?
After several more blasts, there was still no reaction from the Temple. The white structure was ghostly as sand, and flowers fell around it. Dust and strange shouts drifted about, illuminated by the rays of the setting Sun. The brothers couldn’t believe the mysticism before them. It was like a scene from Ammon’s often-vivid dreams.
As the wreckage ensued and the ships drew ever closer, it became clear to the brothers that they were in real, mortal danger. The entire Isle was in shambles as projectiles continued striking the Temple. Everything seemed ablaze as sunrays lit the scene on fire. All was hazy and red like crimson clouds. All while the Temple stood still.
Finally, the Temple doors fell open. The brothers whimpered with relief. Two lines of Guardians appeared from the bright void, marching out with white robes and blank faces. There was a fluid motion to their step, lacking all impatience. Ammon looked at Mikael as a sideways smile grew on both their faces.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Ammon said, turning back towards the violence. The two lines of Guardians were parallel to each other and to the beach, facing the approaching threat. Metals pummeled the sand around them, launching fragments into the air. The Guardians remained untouched.
A great dust storm stirred up, obscuring all shapes into dark-brown shadows. The Guardians stood still as the dust cloud thickened, while the blasts from impacts grew louder.
“What are they waiting for?” Mikael mumbled, tears of anticipation in his eyes. I don’t know, Ammon thought to himself. I don’t know…
Title: The Archangel Wars
Author: Jonathan Yanez
Genre: Supernatural/Urban Fantasy
Cover Designer: Covers by Christian
Publisher: Archimedes Books
Blurb: Can a nobody become a hero?
Theyâre not your typical angels.
Heâs not your typical hero...
Bullied, alone, and broken, Alan was ready to give up on life. Turns out, they had another plan for him.
A battle wages in the supernatural realm. Alan is soon recruited to join the angels. But heâll discover thereâs more to his new powers than even the Archangels expected.
Caught up in a world of ancient gods, death angels, demons, the four horsemen, and the three-headed dog, Cerberus, Alan must choose a side. Because whether heâs ready or not, heâs the center of everything.
Get lost in a new kind of supernatural adventure today where Archangels, Greek mythology, and legends meet apolcalyptic monsters. And where an unexpected champion overcomes personal obstacles and seeks forgiveness.
If you enjoy Linsey Hall, Judith Berens, Michelle Madow, Orlando Sanchez, or Shayne Silvers, youâll get a kick out of The Archangel Wars.
I'm Jonathan, a former personal trainer turned full-time author and part-time model.
I could go on and on about how many books I've written and awards I've won and blah, blah, blah but I'd rather use this time for you to get to know the real me.
I write because that's what I was born to do and I freaking love doing it. Because of awesome people like you, I get to do it full time.
Connecting with fellow lovers of the written word is important to me so please join the Pack via my website at www.jonathan-yanez.com where you can grab an exclusive story or hang out with us at www.facebook.com/groups/1944447962437071/
Hope you decide to stay in touch,
âMy organization has been watching you since the night you jumpedâfellâoff the roof, and even before that. What we want is your help. What I mean to say is, we think a partnership would be mutually beneficial.â
Alan searched the dimly lit interior of the bar, for what, he wasnât sureâcameras revealing he was being set up, dark-suited government agents poised to take him away for experimentation, or the FBI for all the money and merchandise heâd stolen over the past four years.
He scooted a bit closer to the edge of his booth, ready to run at a momentâs notice. As a general rule, he didnât use his speed in public. Tonight could be an exception.
âPlease, donât do your super-speed thing,â Danielle said. âYouâre not alone in this. I know you must have so many questions, and I can give you the answers youâve been searching for. The world needs you, Alan.â
Alanâs chest constricted. For the very first time, fear of the real possibility of having his questions answered spread through him. For years, Alan had searched for an explanation to what he was, and every lead ended the same, with only more questions.
The server appeared, balancing a glass on a tray. Danielle turned her attention away from him and visibly brightened. âOh, my Shirley Temple. Thereâs a cherry in it, too. Yesssss.â
Author: Dawn Umrie
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Designer: Rebecacovers
Publication Date: May 16th, 2019
What does the expression, âhaving it allâ mean?
For me, does this mean having a career as a successful author?
With more money than I need, best friendsâ¦ a nice house?
Iâve been publicly linked to a phrase that might as well be mythical in nature.
No one person walking this earth âhas it all.â
I have a privileged life, yes, but is it anywhere near fulfillment?
Not even closeâ¦ until I met her.
I wonât deny that I view the world through rose-tinted glasses.
Maybe itâs because Iâm an artist, or maybe itâs because of my upbringing.
Regardless, not a single day goes by that Iâm not grateful for my life, my friend, my apartment.
I never dwell on what might be lacking in my days, but spending my time picking them apart will never allow me to grow and flourish.
Thatâs not how Iâd like to spend my life.
Have I reached the level of contentment Iâm yearning for?
Not even closeâ¦ until I met him.
Dawn Umrie can usually be found in her office sipping a cup of Dunkin' Donut's coffee with her Chihuahua sleeping beside her desk.
After years of being an avid reader, she finally took the leap in January 2018 and began writing the first draft of her dÃ©but romance novel, Blue Diamond.
When sheâs not reading or writing, she enjoys mixing essential oil potions, listening to K-pop music, and watching the cheesiest romance movies she could find.
She happily resides in South Florida with her husband, two children, and Hannah (the Chihuahua).
Author: Apryl Baker
Genre: Security Romance
Publisher: Crave Publishing
Publication Date: April 16th, 2019
Hosted by: Lady Amberâs PR
So who am I?
Title: Rock Her Wild
Author: Alyson Hale
Genre: Steamy Rockstar Romance
Editor: Brittney Coon
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Reviews & PR
Iâve always been the man who never wanted to taste the same pair of lips twice, but sheâs created an addiction in me...
Iâve finally met my match, in more ways than one. Iâm supposed to be the one who slips away without even a âgoodbyeâ after a one-night stand. Now Iâm sitting here alone with an ache in my chest and a driving need to find out what the hell is going on in Alexandrea Wardâs beautiful head. She targeted me from the moment she met me and effortlessly conned me into playing her games. It was supposed to be one night of unbridled pleasure, but my need for her has become a sickness, and thereâs only one cure: making her mine.
Ever since the day my innocence was taken, my life has been a series of bad decisions and close calls. This time, I took it too far and I almost didnât come back from it. All I wanted was one last wild night with a man who was worthy of me. I wasnât counting on bad boy lead guitarist Damien Turner being more than meets the eye.
Heâs offering me the world, but do I have the courage to accept it? And what will happen if my attacker decides he isnât finished with me yet?
NOTE: This 18+ rockstar romance is 35,000 word standalone read. Each book in the Rock Her Series can be read independently of the others, but much like the Bangers and their strong women, theyâre better together. This book is for people who don't mind underlying dark themes (triggering subjects such as rape and drug abuse are mentioned without in-depth descriptions).
Rock Her Hard: https://amzn.to/2TxOBfm
Rock Her Wild: https://amzn.to/2XXCYgf
Alyson Hale is a passionate contemporary/erotic romance author from the American South. Her weaknesses are rock stars, billionaires, and alpha males. She is married to a strong, stubborn family man who shows up in almost every book boyfriend she writes. Alyson is also a mother to one human child, one canine child, and one feline child.
Subscribe to Aly's Rockin' Romance Reads for the latest FREE & $0.99 romance ebooks each week! http://eepurl.com/ghBBR9
Reader Group: https://bit.ly/2ELUzi
Rock Her Hard: https://amzn.to/2TxOBfm
Rock Her Wild: https://amzn.to/2XXCYgf
Fuck me. When we came to the orchard today, I wasnât planning on her. Now I think my plans to fuck with Jaceâs head today have given way to plans of literal fucking with the gorgeous woman in front of me.
Jace called me off of Kyri as soon as he saw her in the pub. She was his, and he wasnât going to have her messed with. As far as I know, heâs never gotten hung up on a woman like this, and itâs leverage I need to get some of my own way around here. I know theyâve slept together, but that wasnât going to put me off from flirting a bit just to get under his skin. Now, with the eighth wonder of the world staring me right in the face, I find myself more than a bit distracted.
Her skin is like coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar blended in, and her hair is rich and natural, curled just a bit away from her face. The hourglass curves of her figure are accentuated by a red dress with a plunging V-neck. She continued the red color up to her lips, but they donât overshadow her stunning brown eyes. I should look away from her or say something, but I canât. Iâve lost control of my vocal cords. Theyâre no longer functioning. I need a jumpstart.
My brother Eddie comes up behind me and thumps me on the back. I know itâs him because of his heavy footing that I can hear even in this damp soil. âYou all right, brother? Who is this?â
The tempting siren smiles and takes over for me, stretching out her delicate, manicured hand for a shake. âAlexandrea Ward. Nice to meet you both. Iâm also the best friend of Kyri Calloway.â
âAh, Kyriâs âBFFâ.â Eddie steps in front of me, since Iâm still frozen solid, and shakes her hand. âIâm Eddie, nice to meet you.â
A deep growl crawls out of my throat. I jolt between them, blocking him from her and making their hands detach. Alexandrea looks up at me with a touch of fear in her eyes, but also intrigue.
âDamien Turner.â I reach for her hand, and lightning pulses up to my shoulder when our skin touches. Her mouth drops open, and I have to restrain myself from taking her lips with mine right then and there. I could slip my fingers right up underneath that sinful neckline and take her breasts, pinching her nipples and shoving her up against the nearest treeâ¦
My God, I have a disease. I think she gave it to me. And fuck, I hope sheâs the cure.
âNice to meet you, Damien,â she whispers meekly. Something about her gives me the idea sheâs not ânice.â Not one little bit. That makes me horny as hell.
âLikewise. Do you have plans tonight?â
A spark ignites in her eyes. âWith any luck, I might.â
Sinners of Saint, Book One
They say love and hate are the same feelings experienced under different circumstances, and itâs true.
The man who comes to me in my dreams also haunts me in my nightmares.
He is a brilliant lawyer.
A skilled criminal.
A beautiful liar.
A bully and a savior, a monster and a lover.
Ten years ago, he made me run away from the small town where we lived. Now, he came for me in New York, and he isnât leaving until he takes me with him.
She is a starving artist.
Pretty and evasive like cherry blossom.
Ten years ago, she barged into my life unannounced and turned everything upside down.
She paid the price.
Emilia LeBlanc is completely off-limits, my best friendâs ex-girlfriend. The woman who knows my darkest secret, and the daughter of the cheap Help we hired to take care of our estate.
That should deter me from chasing her, but it doesnât.
So she hates me. Big fucking deal.
She better get used to me.
Vicious a complete standalone and a part of the Sinners of Saint series
Other Books in The Sinners Of Saint Contemporary Romance Series:
Sinners of Saint, Book Two
Sinners of Saint. Book Three
Sinners of Saint, Book Four
Sinners of Saint, Book 5
About the Author
LJ Shen is a USA Today and Washington Post bestselling author of over ten books. She lives in California with her husband, son, and cat.
Date Published: 04/15/2019
Publisher: Lost Hollow Books
Lost Hollow constable Graham Gordon just walked into his abandoned childhood home for the first time in twenty years. Local teenagers have been spreading rumors about disembodied screams coming from inside. Now, thanks to a rickety set of cellar stairs and the hateful spirit of his dead father, he might never escape.
Meanwhile, Channel 6 News feature reporter Afia Aftonâwhose father is the victim of a local decades-old hate crimeâis meeting with town administrator Patsy Blankenship. Her mission is to develop a ghost story feature for a special to air on the stationâs Halloween broadcast. When Patsy tells her about the screams at the Gordon place, the past and the present are set on a collision course with potentially catastrophic results.
Can Graham come to terms with his fatherâs past and redeem his own future? Can the murder mystery that has haunted Afia for most of her life finally be solved?
Itâs a fight for the future and the past when spirit and flesh wage war at the Gordon place.
CHAPTER ONE EXCERPT
The only net gain for Graham, if it could be considered such, that had come out of the election so far was that he had been able to use the position to convince the town to turn his old homestead over to him for a song and a promise heâd clean up the blight. That had been another lark. In the same town board meeting that had seen him sworn in as constable there had appeared on the agenda a plan to demolish the old place as a means of curbing the juvenile delinquency it seemed to entice. The rumors being spread by the kids in town had reached the boardâs ears, and they had come to the same conclusion he had: the place was turning into an attraction for vagrants and neâer-do-wells. Therefore, tear it down.
When the time came for public input on the matter, heâd suddenly found himself standingâwithout having previously planned to do soâand arguing that the place had sentimental value for him and that heâd like a shot at restoring it. He might even turn it into some kind of tourist spot, an idea heâd come to by way of town administrator Patsy Blankenship, she whom heâd hung up on moments ago. She had already renovated one old local homestead into a bed and breakfast that hosted the occasional guest or local event. The board had balked at his idea at first, but after heâd promised to either clean up the blight or hand the old Gordon place back to the town for demolition within a year, theyâd relented. Now he owned the home: a shelter for rats, snakes, vagrants, and bored teenagers. He had no idea where to begin.
Graham pushed the thoughts away. This was no time to go second-guessing his life choices and cost himself what little nerve he had summoned to search for trespassers. He sidled up the hall. The back of his shirt created a loud scraping sound against the faded and peeling fleur-de-lis wallpaper covering the entry hall, a remnant of his motherâs New Orleans roots. He left his own narrow trail of Wolverine sole prints in the dust on the floor, carefully avoiding stepping on the ones left by the previous visitor. The physical memories of life in the house came flooding back to him. The sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. The sound of his fatherâs footsteps. Even the scrape of the wallpaper against the fabric of his shirt bubbled up memories of him dashing all over the house, running his hands and fingers over the walls as he did, just as any normal wild young boy might do.
The tiny hook and eye latch that had been meant to secure the cellar door was already undone when he got there. Graham didnât know whether his father had initially installed that latch, but heâd always thought it a silly and unnecessary addition. The door to the cellar was no more than three uneven slats of painted pine carelessly supported along their backs by two horizontal two-by-fours. Large gaps between each slat rendered useless any attempt to keep the cooler air of the cellar out of the entry hall by just shutting the door. Besides, it had always managed to swing shut and stay closed on its ownâeven unlatchedâwhich was one more reason the cellar had made for such an excellent hiding place.
A small wooden cabinet knob was mounted a couple of inches below the hook. Graham grabbed it and pulled. The door swung open easily on its spring hinges and without much complaint about the new tension; surprising after so many years of disuse. The ray from his Maglite spilled into the opening and revealed three splintery and slowly disintegrating steps, approximately one-quarter of the familiar set of plank stairs leading from the mouth of the door before vanishing into the damp darkness below. Graham felt for the light switch just inside the cellar door and flipped it on, but it produced nothing. Heâd had service activated so he could begin work on the place. Maybe the power company hadnât gotten around to it yet. That would certainly explain the state of the security light out front.
âHello?â he shouted into the depths of darkness. âLost Hollow Constable! Is anyone down there?â
There was no answer.
Graham stepped through the door. Heâd covered only one tread before the sound of the creaking staircase started to get to him. There he paused, not allowing the door to swing shut behind him and not liking the soft and spongy feel of the tread on which he stood. It had much more give in it than he remembered from his youth.
From this position, the narrow beam of his Maglite enabled him to see the end of the staircase, but nothing beyond. The final step looked black and almost completely rotted away. The one above it didnât appear to be in much better shape. If he went forward, he risked breaking those steps, which would make climbing out of the cellar much more difficult. If he didnât go on, and someone was trapped down here, he might lose his job in disgrace. Worse, a real law enforcement officer, like a county sheriffâs deputy, might end up investigating the âscreamsâ and finding a dead body heâd missed out of fear, in which case he could at the very least be accused of neglecting his duties as an officer of the peace.
Maglite secured in his left hand, Graham pawed at his right hip, immediately taking comfort in the shape of the county issue radio clipped to his belt. He ran his fingers along the top of the device until they closed around the volume knob, which he turned to the right. A thin click and a spurt of white noise erupted through the tomb-like silence of the old house. It vanished just as quickly, leaving in its wake the distinct hum of radio silence. Even so, it was reassuring that he had not only remembered to carry his direct connection to the Hollow County Sheriffâs Department inside with him but it also appeared to be in proper working order.
âLetâs hear it for technology. Thank God.â
From somewhere inside his head, he thought, the darkness replied: GOD AINâT GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.
The next thing he felt was the bone-crunching shock of something blunt and heavy striking the back of his head. He heard what sounded like the shattering of thick glass. He was able to stay upright just long enough to feel what might have been a trickle of blood oozing from his scalp to the nape of his neck. A pair of unseen hands at his back thrust him into the darkness of the cellar, launching him down the full length of the rickety staircase. He fell forward, plummeting face first into the densely compacted earth beneath the house. The bridge of his nose exploded in a bright starburst of pain. His upper teeth crashed down on his lower lip, ripping open the pliable flesh. He felt an immediate swelling there. A thin stream of hot blood ran tear-like down his chin from the wound. Dimly, he heard the crack of splintered wood as his shins came down last, disintegrating the deteriorated lower steps in a fireworks show of wood rot and ancient dust.
His radio went flying when he hit. He heard it shatter in a hiss of static somewhere off to his right. The base of his Maglite struck the ground at the same time. It flew from his hand and bounced off the earth once, twice, and rolled some distance over the ground before coming to rest against the farthest cinder block wall of the cellar. The lamp behind the flashlightâs lens flickered madly, creating a nauseating strobe effect, a stop-motion version of Grahamâs shadow on the wall beside him as he at first struggled to regain his feet and then gave up, collapsing flat to the earth.
The lamp finally steadied itself at a low burn, illuminating almost nothing about the cellar but the corner in which it had landed. It had come to rest too far from the limit of Grahamâs reach. He stretched his left arm out for it anyway, hopeful that the darkness had merely created some sort of illusion of depth. His fingers clawed at the dirt for a second or two before they ultimately surrendered and lay still.
Graham Gordon lay broken and exhausted on the black earth at the bottom of the cellar stairs. In the fading last rays of his dying Maglite, he saw an eye: a disembodied, full white orb broken by jagged lightning-shaped lines of red capillaries. The iris in the center of the eyeball was a murky dark brown color, unshining and nearly black. Its pupil was but a pinprick in the beam from the flashlight.
It stared at him from just beyond the edge of the darkness, unblinking.
The world went dark.
About the Author
ISAAC THORNE is a nice man who has, over the course of his life, developed a modest ability to spin a good yarn. Really. He promises. Just donât push him down a flight of stairs.
Isaac reviews films for TNHorror.com and TheHorrorcist.com. He is the host of Thorneâs Theater of Terror and Classic
Cuts on 24/7/365 horror-themed SCRM Radio at scrmradio.com.
More of Isaacâs work is available at isaacthorne.com and wherever books are sold.
Are you ready to discover new books and tasty food? I will be writing reviews of books and posting recipes that I have created! Hope you all enjoy!
Click on picture above to get your own copy!