SUMMONER RISING by Melanie McFarlane #CoverReveal #FridayReveals #Month9Squad #Month9Books

 
Today Melanie McFarlane and Month9Books
are revealing the cover and first chapter for SUMMONER RISING, which releases March
28, 2017! Check out the gorgeous cover and enter to be one of the first readers
to receive a eGalley!!
A quick note from the author:
After writing my YA debut,
There Once Were Stars, I never imagined that another full story idea would come
to me so quick. But sure enough, in Spring of 2015 I finished playing a round
of Final Fantasy (old school) and the thought came to me of creating a character
who could summon demons, like the characters in FF can do in battles. From
there I created my main character, an indie-outcast kind of girl, who listened
to bands like Nirvana and Small Brown Bike (like I did in college), and always
want to fit in but never really felt like part of the gang. I made her broken
and dark, not naive and protected like Natalia from There Once Were Stars to
ensure they were nothing alike and so they would face different challenges.
From here, Dacie was born – a complicated girl who wants to be normal but
doesn’t want to conform. A girl with ghosts in her closet, demons under her
bed, and an inner power so strong she’s going to have to learn to control it or
suffer the consequences. Dacie is a combination of who I was and who I wanted
to be when I was a teenager. And we all have to deal with our demons at some
point.

On to the reveal!

 
Title: SUMMONER
RISING
Author: Melanie McFarlane
Pub. Date: March 28, 2017
Publisher: Month9Books
Format: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 300
Find it: Goodreads
|
Amazon | B&N | TBD
Excerpt from, The Book of Summoning:
Law One: A summoner is responsible for
all creatures it lets through from the netherworld.
Dacie Cantar wishes someone had
explained the Laws of Summoning to her before she watched a shadowy creature
crawl out of a painting at the local arcade. At least it explains the strange
things she’s witnessed since moving in with her great-aunt, after her mother’s
untimely death. But who wants to be followed by shadows the rest of their life?
Add that to being stalked by a strange boy at school, who just might be her
Tovaros (aka soulmate), it’s about all Dacie can handle in her new life.

 

As she nears her seventeenth birthday,
will she be ready for her new responsibilities, or will the shadows that
stalked her mother until her death, finally consume Dacie, too? And then
there’s Law Two…

 

Excerpt

Chapter OneBroken. That’s how I feel inside. It’s as if something ripped out part of me and won’t give it back. That’s what death does to you when it touches those you love; it’s not rocket science, but it’s definitely not what I thought it would be like. In movies it is cold, pale, and filled with sadness and longing, or sometimes so predictable and eye roll worthy with its Hollywood special effects. But the death I’ve experienced has been more horrifyingly real; filled with personal loss, haunting dreams, and shadows that run around in the night.

The therapist they assigned me back in California said I needed to move forward. Keep on, keeping on. As clichéd as it was, I agreed. I’d spent most my life fighting to thrive, practically raising myself. Now wasn’t the time to give up. Death was inevitable; if I let the fear of it hold me back, I might as well roll over and die right now. Survival meant I had to push those feelings deep down inside and forget they were there.

“Daciana!”

Great Aunt Katya’s voice calls from the hallway while I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, playing with concealer to cover the dark circles under my eyes. Sleep doesn’t come easy when you’re trying to be someone new.

She appears behind me in the mirror, her long white hair a contrast to my dark locks. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Her thick accent is still a novelty to me.

Katya has spent the entire summer trying to convince me that I’d be better off stuck here with her, getting homeschooled like everyone else does in our family, back in Romania. I’m not against it; I’d just like to try to fit in first.

I shake my head and mimic a cheer. “Go Greystone High!” My knotted bracelets slip from my wrist, bumping against the rolled up sleeve of my plaid button-up shirt, and my chipped black nail polish is the opposite of anything bright and cheery. I’m not about to give up my first chance to have a different life.

Katya throws her head back, letting her multi-hooped earrings clink against each other, mingling in the air along with her laugh. She dresses like a bohemian, but flashes way too much cleavage. She wears more bracelets than I do, and a lot more rings. All her jewelry looks like it was forged by hand in one way or another, and I’m sure if I ask there’s a story behind it all. She looks back down and shakes her head at me with a smirk across her burgundy painted lips. She looks amazing for sixty-five.

“Don’t be late your first day.” She pats my shoulder before leaving. In her reflection I see a shadow chasing after her, along the cracks of the old wooden floor. My heart jumps and I spin around, but both of them are gone. I run to the door and peek around the corner, but Katya is alone as she disappears down the creaky old stairs.

I sigh and return to the bathroom to grab my backpack, glancing in the mirror one last time. My dark brown eyes stare back at me; when will they stop playing tricks on me? This isn’t the first shadow I’ve seen dashing about, but every time I try to chase after them, there’s nothing there. I’m obviously losing my mind.

Downstairs, I pop a waffle in the toaster and stare out the patio doors at the trees that line the back of our yard; but I’m not really watching the trees; I’m trying to convince my nerves that this school will be like every other new school I’ve attended my entire life. Only this time I don’t have my mother to send me off in the morning.

I snap out of my thoughts as the toaster pops.

Outside, my little four door hatchback sits in wait. Katya found it for sale at the side of the road and bought it for me my first day here. Its navy blue paint is peeling, and there’s a bumper sticker that says My Kid is a Greystone Grad, but now that I’m going to be a student there I may as well leave it. Plus I’ve never had my own car before; the freedom is exhilarating.

As I pull up to Greystone High I realize the concept of being normal is harder to carry out in person. The stone exterior of the school is as old as the rest of this coastal town; its interior was modern twenty years ago with its classic cement block walls and color themed lockers. The students are familiar with one another, as if they all grew up here in Greystone, Maine.

Most of them turn their heads as I walk down the hall, not even hiding their curiosity. As soon as I find my locker I duck my head inside and finally breathe. I expected things to be different. I should’ve known a new location wouldn’t change anything; being different is always the same, no matter where you go.

“You’re new,” a boy’s voice comes from the locker next to mine.

I take a deep breath and grab my sketchbook with trembling hands, from my bag. “Sure am,” I say turning, and walking away.

I hear his footsteps run after me. “Hey, I’m Brennan. Where’d you move from?”

“Hey,” I mimic him. “That’s pretty personal when you don’t even know my name.”

His eyes grow wide and a twinge of guilt pokes me in the gut. “I—,” Brennan stammers.

“California.”

He looks confused. “That’s your name?”

“You asked where I moved from. It’s California. I’m Dacie.”

A smile jumps across his face showing small dimples on either side of his mouth. He’s kind of cute with his short brown hair and sparkly blue eyes, that match his jersey with the Greystone High logo; that is if you like that sort of jock look. It’s never been my thing, not like I’m an expert or anything. I’ve never dated anyone before. Not a hand held, first kiss, or grope. But hey, nothing screams normal like Mr. Football standing in front of me.

“Why would you move here?” he asks, still flashing that all-American smile.

There’s a question I’m not ready to answer. “Sorry, I-uh, have to go. I’m going to be late for Art class.”

“Come find me and my friends at lunch!” Brennan calls out as he backs into a group of girls who start squealing and hitting him with their books. I can’t help but smile.

I turn toward my classroom, but I’m just as clumsy as Brennan. As I turn around I run smack into someone. My sketchbook falls to the floor, scattering my drawings everywhere. I look up and see I’m leaning against the chest of a tall boy.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

He kneels down to pick up my papers and I drop to the floor, grabbing them away from him. One of my bracelets falls off on the floor and he picks it up.

“It was my fault,” I say, stuffing them back in my book.

We both stand up at the same time, only inches apart, and so close I can see his chest move with every breath. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much contact with a boy before.

“No harm done.” He gives me a crooked smile and, is that an accent I hear? What is it? European? He holds the bracelet out to me, rousing me from my thoughts.

I stare at him for a moment. His hair is a little longer than I like, but it suits him as it falls into his eyes. What are they: green with flecks of brown and yellow like a starburst from his pupil? His jaw line has a slight shade of stubble on top of his tanned skin. He’s practically poetic; I finally exhale and can feel my face warm up from thinking about him.

“Thanks.” I grab the bracelet diverting all attention from my face.

“Shall we enter class?” Shall? Who says shall?

“Yes, please,” I say raising an eyebrow. The green hues in his eyes flicker for a moment with a hint of amusement. Is he laughing at me?

I put my head down and scoot past him, brushing my arm against his. My body tingles at the sensation of his skin. Enough, Dacie! I hurry to the first empty desk I see, which is close to the back; usually I chose a seat in the front row but right now my face is so flushed I need to hide.

But the boy follows and takes a seat behind me. I shift in my plastic seat and focus on the front of the room, but the hair on my neck raises, as if someone’s watching me.

My teacher is an older woman with curls so tight they create the impression of dreads around her freckled face. Her clothes are an odd assembly of ballet flats with gaucho slacks, topped with a frilly apron splattered in paint. She gives us a short lecture then has us begin working on pointillism. I check out some Escher and decide to sketch my hand. It’s not copying if I draw my own, right?

I struggle to make my fingers look real. They come out more sausage-like than human, which makes me frown. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get it right, and I’m not about to reference my Escher print again or I might as well just copy it. Half way through class I give up and look around; everyone else is working diligently on their pictures.

I peek over my shoulder to see what the boy is doing. I should have asked him his name. He’s sitting against the back of his chair with his arms crossed, staring at me. I spin back around, reaching for my pencil in an attempt to look busy and knock it off my desk. I scramble to grab it before it falls, but it hits the floor and rolls to the back of the class.

I turn my head after the pencil, and hang half way out of my desk to catch it. My fingers brush against the floor and a dark black boot stops it in the middle of the aisle. I follow the boot all the way up to the boy’s face. He lets a small smirk spread across his mouth. Wow, he’s fast.

I force a smile. “Thank you.” I sit up straight in my desk and spin around.

He leans over and grabs the pencil. “Anytime.” He sweeps his hair from his eyes and holds it out to me.

I get out of my desk and walk over to him. “Are you already done the project?” He nods. I look down at his drawing. What the—he’s drawn a picture of me as I was drawing. Even worse, it’s good, really good. My cheeks flash hot with irritation; I’m not sure if it’s from the invasion of privacy or pure jealousy. I manage to twist my face from a glower to a frown: “We were supposed to do pointillism.”

He keeps staring at me. “I saw something I liked more.”

A sharp pain stabs my gut and my face feels even hotter than it did a second ago. “Whatever,” I say as I grab my pencil and hurry to my desk.

Thankfully he does not attempt to talk to me the rest of class. When the bell rings he pauses at my desk still holding the drawing in his hand. I grab my things and leave as quickly as I can. I’m not interested in any explanations. Who does he think he is?

My next class is History, where I get a long-winded account of the colonization of Maine starting back in the 1600s. Lucky me, we’re going to move through the centuries. After that it’s Math and then finally lunch.

I throw my books in my locker and head for the cafeteria. I manage to find a sandwich and an apple that look edible but when I turn to look for a seat, I see Brennan standing up waving at me. I force a smile and wave back; pretending to be normal can’t be that hard, right? He’s sitting with another boy and two girls. The boy smiles at me and the girls just stare.

“Hey everyone, this is Dacie,” Brennan says.

I meet Zack, Sophie, and Chantal. Everyone has their perfectly normal names and is coupled up, in the order they are seated. They all wear smiles except for Chantal, who stares me down. I’m pretty sure she’s interested in Brennan, the way she keeps her eyes glued to him, but he seems oblivious as he sits next to her.

“Dacie moved here from California,” Brennan says, flashing me another one of his full face smiles.

Sophie flicks her long blond hair over her shoulder and laughs. “Ewww, why would you move here? It’s always so cloudy.”

“Long story,” I say, taking a bite of my sandwich.

Chantal rolls her eyes. “It’s so boring here, but you’re too new to know.”

I swallow my ham and cheese and shrug. “I’ve been here all summer.”

Brennan’s eyes light up. “Really? Where’ve you been hiding?”

“I live with my aunt up at the end of Marlborough Lane.”

“Oh my god,” Chantal says. Her mouth hangs open with a smile playing at the edge. “You’re her.”

Sophie shoots her a dirty look. “Shhh.” Chantal stares down at her lunch.

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘her’?”

Sophie’s cheeks turn red. “We heard, you know, about your mom.”

My throat is suddenly dry and I have to force down my next swallow. “So everyone knows?”

“It is a small town,” Chantal says, staring at me.

“Okay, hold on everyone. Dacie, we just mean we didn’t know you’ve been here all this time. I would have come by to meet you.” He flashes me one of his full face smiles.

Right. Come meet the freak. I put my half eaten sandwich down on my tray and stand up. My chair scrapes against the floor, echoing in the cafeteria. It seems everyone around us has gone silent to listen in on our conversation.

“Don’t go,” Brennan says. The rest of the table looks away, except for Chantal.

“Sorry.” She doesn’t seem sincere.

“It’s fine. I just need some air.”

I take my tray and deposit it near the exit as I leave the cafeteria. As I go to push the doors open a black streak flies out of the corner of my eye. I know better, but still run after it. Nothing is there—argh!

The double doors to the cafeteria bang closed behind me as my frustration builds. I walk to a quiet corner and lean my back against the wall as I exhale. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, again. Some girls giggle as they pass by. This normal thing sucks.

I close my eyes and think about my mom. Six months wasn’t long enough to numb the pain. The mention of her, and the fact everyone knows the story, stings like it did when I left the west coast. Now I want nothing more than to go back there. What’s the point of being here now if I can’t escape the past?

“You alright?” a familiar, accented voice comes from next to me.

I startle, opening my eyes and see the boy from art class. “I’m fine.”

I push myself from the wall and continue down the hallway to the doors outside. As I reach the exit, I turn and see him staring at me as I walk away. My body shivers from the cool fall air.

When the bell rings, I go back inside, making a b-line for my locker. A slip of white paper hangs halfway out of it. I pull it out and right away recognize it: it’s the picture of me from art class, but the boy who drew it is gone.

I stomp through the hallway, determined to find him but he’s nowhere to be seen. Brennan sees me and waves, but lowers his hand when I shoot him a glare. I ignore him and continue down the hallway. The second bell rings for classes and the hallway empties but I am too worked up to stay. I crumple up the paper and throw it in my backpack. Again I catch a black streak in the corner of my eye. I really need to get more sleep.

 

 
Melanie McFarlane is a passionate writer
of other-wordly adventures, a little excitable, and a little quirky. Whether
it’s uncovering the corruption of the future, or traveling to other worlds to
save the universe, she jumps in with both hands on her keyboard. Though she can
be found obsessing over zombies and orcs from time to time, Melanie has focused
her powers on her YA debut There Once Were Stars, and her YA urban fantasy
Summoner Rising.
She lives with her husband and two
daughters in the Land of Living Skies.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | InstagramGoodreads

 

 

 

 
3 winners will receive and eGalley of SUMMONER
RISING, International.

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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

Sherlock Holmes and the Nine-Dragon Sigil by Tim Symonds #ReleaseBlast

Cover

NEW RELEASE
SHERLOCK HOLMES
AND THE NINE-DRAGON SIGIL

Tim Symonds

Genre: Mystery and Thriller
Publisher: MX Publishing
Publication Date: November 16, 2016

Add to Goodreads

Never had Holmes and Watson found themselves up against a human-being as clever, devious and frightening as the Empress Dowager of China.

It’s the year 1907.

Rumours abound that a deadly plot is hatching – not in the fog-ridden back-alleys of London’s Limehouse district or the sinister Devon moors of the Hound of the Baskervilles but in faraway Peking. Holmes’s task – discover whether such a plot exists and if so, foil it. But are the assassins targeting the young and progressive Ch’ing Emperor or his imperious aunt, the fearsome Empress Dowager Cixi? The murder of either could spark a civil war. The fate of China and the interests of Britain’s vast Empire in the Orient could be at stake.

Holmes and Watson take up the mission with their customary confidence – until they find they are no longer in the familiar landscapes of Edwardian England. Instead, they tumble into the Alice In Wonderland world of the Forbidden City.

About Tim Symonds

Tim Symonds was born in London, England, and grew up in Somerset, Dorset and the Channel Island of Guernsey, off the coast of Normandy. After spending his late teens farming in the Kenya Highlands and driving bulldozers along the Zambezi River, he moved to California and graduated Phi Beta Kappa from UCLA with an honours degree in Politics.

He lives in the ancient woodland known as the High Weald of Sussex, where the events recounted in Sherlock Holmes and The Dead Boer at Scotney Castle took place. His second novel, Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Bulgarian Codex (MX Publishing 2012), took Holmes and Watson into the very depths of the Balkans in 1900. Holmes and Watson were back in the region – Serbia – in Sherlock Holmes And The Mystery of Einstein’s Daughter (MX Publishing 2014), and not long afterwards in ‘Stamboul’ investigating a plot against the despotic Sultan, in Sherlock Holmes And The Sword of Osman (MX Publishing 2015).

Official Tim Symonds website: http://tim-symonds.co.uk/


In partnership with

Book Unleashed

I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

GOOD VAMPIRES GO TO HEAVEN by Sandra Hill #ReleaseBlast @TastyBookTours @SandraHillAuth @AvonBooks

In
an epic madcap battle between good and evil, 

a Demon just might earn his wings
. . . 

and spend eternity with the Vangel of his wildest dreams.

GOOD VAMPIRES GO TO HEAVEN
Deadly Angels #8
Sandra Hill
Releasing Nov 29th, 2016
Avon Books

 

New York Times bestselling author
SANDRA HILL continues her sexy deadly angels series with a good demon who might
finally get his vangel wings…
 
WHEN HE WAS BAD . . .
 
Two-thousand-year-old
vampire demon Zeb is supposed to spend eternity turning mortal sinners into bad
guy Lucipires like himself. That way, they can grow their numbers and fight the
vampire angels known as Vangels. But Zeb is a bad boy in a good way—secretly
working as a double agent for none other than St. Michael the Archangel in
hopes of one day earning his wings. Problem is, Zeb’s betrayal is discovered.
 
Hello,
demon dungeon.
 
HE WAS VERY BAD . . .
 
Until
Regina, a foxy, flame-haired Vangel witch on a rescue mission, busts out Zeb,
along with three oddball Lucipire witches. Hello, temptation!
 
BUT TOGETHER THEY WERE VERY GOOD . .
. !
Their
escape unleashes a war to defeat all Vangels forevermore. In an epic madcap
battle between good and evil, a Demon just might earn his wings . . . and spend
eternity with the Vangel of his wildest dreams.

tastytoursexcerpt

A blue mist seemed to swirl above, then settle around them like a cloudy cocoon. The rain aroma intensified, and for the first time she smelled her own cinnamon fragrance that Zeb had alluded to. Cinnamon rain, for sure. They ought to make a scented candle with that name.

Zeb’s drinking from her was slow and rhythmic and only tiny sips at a time. But, oh, the bliss! It was both primal and sexual. No wonder vangels who mated sometimes fanged each other while making love.

Regina arched her head back to give Zeb better access, an ageless gesture of female submission. How odd! That she would surrender anything to a man!

Only her breasts pressed against his battered body, the rest of her half on, half off the bed, her legs dangling over the side. Still, she adjusted herself so as not to hurt him, and in the process she twined the fingers of one of her hands with his, and she placed her other hand against his head, to hold him in place.

His hand still cupped her nape, but his other hand was making sweeping caresses over her back, from shoulder to rump and back again. Over and over. Even though she wore one of his old T-shirts and jogging shorts, she felt naked under his touch.

Regina was more aroused than she’d ever been in all her life. Not that she’d been inclined to lust very often. Once every century or so.

She wanted to climb atop his body and rub herself against him. Skin to skin. Breast to chest. Pubic bone to pubic bone. Thigh against thigh.

She couldn’t. Even if she could, she wouldn’t.

She wanted to kiss his lips and draw his tongue into her mouth. She would suck on him with childlike hunger. No, not childlike. Nothing childlike about the hunger she was feeling.

In any case, it was a moot point. It was hard to kiss a fanging man when only one set of fangs was involved. Two sets? Impossible! Wasn’t it? They might even get locked together. Imagine Vikar’s consternation if she arrived back at the castle fang-locked with a demon vampire, wanting him to unlock them. They would be the laughingstock of all vangeldom. Angeldom, too, she supposed.

She could imagine the jokes.

“How do two vampires kiss?”

“Carefully.”

Better she concentrate on something else.

She had to stop Zeb’s drinking from her, for now, or she would be drained. Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself up and away, until his fangs withdrew from her with a small pop. He licked the skin, reflexively, to seal the wound.

“That’s all for now,” she said and rose off the bed. Her shaky knees almost gave out. How was she going to do this again and again until Zeb was healed? She would be a basket case. The most satisfied woman in the universe! Or the most stirred up and antsy for release! Yikes!

Zeb’s eyes opened for a moment, and he said, “Thank you.” Almost immediately, he fell back asleep, or unconscious. His body still threw off heat like an inferno; so the danger was not over. Still, she sensed that he was a little better.

She covered his body with a thin sheet, dabbed at the blood on his lips with a tissue (the fangs having retracted already), and finally replied to his comment, “No. Thank you!”

******

Guest Post

  CAN VAMPIRES REALLY GO TO HEAVEN?

As the title of my latest novel, GOOD VAMPIRES GO TO HEAVEN implies, you might be surprised to find a vampire or two when you hit the Pearly Gates.  I’ll take it one step further.  Even vampire demons get a shot at the heavenly afterlife.

How is this possible?  Surely vampires are dark creatures whose misdeeds are more attuned to the other side.  And demons?  No way could demons get past St. Peter.

Could they?

Let’s ask Zebulan, my tortured hero with a sense of humor, a good demon, if there is such a thing.

So, Zeb, isn’t that an oxymoron, good/demon?

Not really.  I had a really horrific event take place in my life almost two thousand years ago (yes, I give new meaning to the term senior citizen), which started me on a sinful path of revenge.  Really sinful.  Unfortunately, Jasper, king of the Lucipires (demon vampires), took note of my depravity and yanked me over to his minions of bad guys.  But I never really wanted to be evil.  In fact, I yearned to become a vangel (a vampire angel).

Sounds impossible.  How did you go about making the transition from demon to angel?

Well, it wasn’t easy, believe me.  Here are the steps I followed.

          –Begged St. Michael the Archangel, the vangels’ celestial mentor, to give me wings.  That didn’t work, by the way.  My advice: Pray, maybe.  Beg, no.

          –Signed on as a double agent for the vangels.  Okay, that was a good first step…for a few years.  But up to fifty years, give or take?  C’mon!

          –Withstood demonic torture when my duplicity was discovered.  Forget the rack, or water boarding.  Among other perverse tactics they used on me, can anyone say barbed wire on my…well, you know what?

          –Accepted that I wasn’t going to be rescued by some legion of fierce vangel warriors, but instead a coven of witches in a hot air balloon.  (I kid you not!)

–Resisted (okay, I didn’t really resist) the temptation of that red-haired, sizzling hot vangel, Regina, who led the Motley Crue Coven.  And isn’t it odd that she looks like Satan’s sister?

So, in other words, it’s a long journey.  But what you’re saying is that even the worst sinner can be saved?

Well, duh, isn’t that the basis of all religious beliefs?  Redemption.  And listen, don’t we all wish for a second chance at life?  A do-over?  Whether we’ve committed small sins, or big whoppers, we hope to be forgiven.

It all sounds so serious.

It is, but then, my journey (and your lives, as well) are filled with laughter, aren’t they?  I contend that God himself has a great sense of humor.  Man and his foibles are perfect fodder for laughter.  (Picture cave man times, for example.  “Hey, Ugga, is my forehead too sloping?” followed by, “Forget your forehead, Oog.  Go get me a dinosaur steak.” Or how about Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  “Are you sure you don’t want a bite of my apple, Adam?” countered by a “Bite me!” said under the breath.)

Check out my website, www.sandrahill.net, or my Facebook page, Sandra Hill Author, for information about GOOD VAMPIRES GO TO HEAVEN, and my other forty-some books.

As always, I wish you smiles in your reading.  And may there be lots of second chances in your lives, too.

 

****

 

 

 



Sandra
Hill
is a
graduate of Penn State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer
and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing
about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even
the darkest stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four
sons.
 

 

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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

Final Ride by Chelsea Camaron #ReleaseBlast @EJBookPromos @ChelseaCamaron

Title: Final Ride
Series: The Hellions Ride
Author: Chelsea Camaron
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: November 15, 2016
Cover Designer: Cover Me Darling
Everything I have never had is right in front of me. Family, it’s mine for the taking. For the first time in my life, I found stability in the Hellions MC. From the ground up, I’ve been loyal to my brothers.

Now the time has come when I may have to choose between the family I’ve never known or the club I’ve built and given my all to.

Richard ‘Frisco’ Billings is the California kid who rode into Haywood’s Landing when the Hellions were needing an extra man. As an original, he’s been with the club from day one. After growing up with no real place to call home, he’s found solid ground.

All of it crashed around him when secrets were revealed and he found out he missed all the formative years with his daughter being raised in an enemy’s club.

Amy Mitchell was lost her whole life until she was found by the Hellions MC in a bad situation with Felix Delatorre. She spent years with the club, rebuilding her life and finding a place where she could belong.

When a new young woman comes into the home she has with Frisco, will she still fit into his world? Will Frisco find a way to make everything work together? Will this be his final ride with the Hellions as life takes him down a different road?

Catch up with all your favorite couples as every secret finds its way out of the dark and new things are revealed, changing the club forever. This is the final ride for the Hellions MC as we know it.
>RELEASES NOVEMBER 15th<

~Amy~
I shower quickly, lost in my own thoughts. Stepping out, I dry off while ignoring the mist-covered mirror. I have learned to dress and ready myself in minimal time without looking at my reflection. As much as I don’t see the beauty in me physically, Frisco does. How did everything so bad in my life land me in the arms of a man so good?
I feel delightfully sore in all the right places. Applying my lotion, I have this peace with my body I didn’t have before. Things may not be off to the best start with Frisco, but he wants me. He’s told me I’m in his bed. I had enough bad in my life to know how to hold on to the good, even if it’s fleeting. Frisco and I may not have forever, we may not have more than what we have already shared, but in this time, it’s more than I ever had before.
My hands are slippery from the condensation and my lingering lotion when I twist the doorknob, so it takes an extra bit of effort to pop it open. Then I step out into what is Frisco’s bedroom, looking down, only to be stopped by the firm grip of a man’s hands on my arms.
Fear tunnels in until I breathe deeply and inhale his scent.
“Frisco,” I say on a whisper, my body relaxing.
“Don’t want shit between us. Ain’t had to hesitate to say what I need to say or do what I need to do with you for a long damn time. Thought we were good. Thought this was right.”
Tears prickle the back of my eyes. Are we going to be over before we even begin?
“We are right,” I say softly. “Focus on what’s right in front of your face.”
He tips my chin up to look at him. “Right in front of my face, huh?”
“Frisco, I’m here. I’m gonna be here when the dust settles.” I pause. “Your daughter, that young woman in the other room, she needs to know you are solid. Don’t lose sight of what you’ve just got a grip on.”
“Good woman, Amy. You’re a damn good woman.” He kisses my forehead. “Don’t know shit about being a dad. Don’t know shit about taking care of a teenager. I do know what I got right here.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Yeah, what’s that?”
“A beautiful woman who will back me up while I find my footing in this fatherhood stuff. A strong woman who pushes me beyond my past and into the present. Yeah, darlin’, I don’t wanna lose sight of what’s right in front of my face.”
When his lips meet mine, I melt. I’m not weak to him, but my body is. I know with Frisco I could say no and he would stop right now. I know I am safe with him. My body is safe with him. My heart is safe with him.
Right in front of my face is a man who gives his all to those he loves. Right in front of my face is a man who hasn’t had it easy, but he has endured. Right in front of my face is a man who loves deeply, fights fiercely, and doesn’t back down from any challenge life gives him.
Right in front of me is my future. Right in front of him is my unconditional love, loyalty, and a commitment to ride for life.
~Frisco~
Right in front of my face is a woman of beauty, loyalty, strength, and courage. For years, I’ve gone through life holding back. If tomorrow never comes, at least I have given love a second chance. In the years Amy and I have had together, she’s worked her way into my heart, my life, and I don’t want to let go of what is just getting started.
Inhaling the vanilla scent of her lotion, I run my hands up and down her spine as I devour her mouth, needing to feel connected to her. When she moans, my cock hardens against my jeans, rubbing uncomfortably. I haven’t had this much trouble controlling my dick in years, and it feels good.
Everything with Amy feels good.
Cupping her ass, I pull her against me as I turn us and practically glide us toward the bed. Amy squeals in delight as I lay her back on it and immediately take her nipple into my mouth, twirling my tongue around it before blowing against her exposed skin.
I pull back and laugh. “Your lotion tingles on my lips.” I kiss my way down her belly, sensing her insecurities. “Relax, Amy. Every inch of you tells a story, baby. Don’t ever doubt where you came from.” I tease her belly button with my tongue, and she trembles under me.
“Frisco,” she whispers.
“Your body was made for mine. You were made for me.”
She traces the tattoo on my rib with her fingertips.
“Amy,” I say on a laugh, sliding my goatee over her sensitive skin. “I got that ink after our first kiss. You get under my skin, baby. Have for a long damn time.”
“Frisco,” she moans out as I tease her pussy lips with my goatee then flick my tongue over her flesh.
“Do I get to you, Amy?” I ask as I part her pussy lips with my tongue and suck on her clit as she arches up wildly into my face.
“Yes!”
“Do I get under your skin, Amy?” I use my fingertip to trace the circle of her entrance as she tries to slide over me. I keep my finger just on the edge as I lap her clit with my tongue.
“Yes!”
“Do you want me inside you, Amy?” I lick then suck her clit, sliding one finger in torturously slow. “Deep inside you, do you want me to slide my rock-hard cock in your wet pussy and let you ride me until you can’t catch your breath, until your body coats in a fine sheen of sweat?” I pull my finger out, only to ever so slowly slide back inside her with two, in and out as I let my voice vibrate against her sensitive skin. My goatee scrapes with each word. “Do you want me to fuck you, Amy?” I hum against her as she shakes, her release continuing to build. She’s on the edge, but it’s not time yet. “Do you want me to fuck you so long, so hard, and so fast that your eyes feel like they will roll back in your head?”
“Yes!” she cries out, getting louder and louder as her need builds.
“Do you want me to give it to you good, Amy? Do you want me get under your skin? You’re under mine.”
“Yes!” She thrashes wildly. “Please, Frisco, I need you in me.”
“Well, if you need it, who am I to deny you?” I smile against her as I kiss my way up her body, lining my cock up and sliding into her wet core, and sending her over the edge in two thrusts before working myself to climax as she reaches her second orgasm.
Hell yes, I definitely love what is right in front of my face. This works. This is us.


USA Today Bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She is a wife and mom chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond, she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.

 


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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

JACK TEMPLAR and the Last Battle #BookTour @Jeffgunhus

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Jack Templar and the Last Battle by Jeff Gunhus

In the last book of the Jack Templar series, Jack and his friends race to stop Ren Lucre before he launches this Creach army against humankind. But the Lord of the Lesser Creach and the Lord of the Zombies hold the last two Jerusalem Stones Jack needs to have any chance of success. To make matters worse, the Oracle predicts that one of their group will die in the upcoming fight, and Jack discovers betrayal among those he trusts most.

Even so, Jack must find the courage to lead his friends into battle. Either they collect the Stones in time to defeat Ren Lucre or die trying. It’s “Do your duty, come what may” no matter the cost. The fate of the world hangs in the balance.

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The old hag, because that’s what she was now, laughed in a low chugging sound that rattled around in her chest. She held out a hand toward me, clenched into a fist. Slowly, she opened it with her palm up. Resting in her hand was the Jerusalem Stone I’d left her.
“You tried to use it,” I said. “You promised you wouldn’t.”
“And I lied,” the witch hissed. “What? Did you think only the Black Guard could tell lies? Only hunters were allowed to break their vows?”
The fire in the hearth blazed higher as if feeding off her bitterness and anger. In the light, I saw that the hand holding the Stone was curled into a claw. Worse, it was blackened. No, worse than blackened. It was charred as if the Stone had caught fire but she’d refused to let it go.
“What did you try to make it do?” I asked. In my heart, I knew the answer, yet I had to ask. Everything that had happened since walking into the cottage somehow felt out of my control. Like I was on a path I couldn’t get off. And I had a bad feeling the path was leading me somewhere I didn’t want to go.
“Why is it that I’m made to suffer?” she asked, ignoring my question. She took a hobbling step closer. “I was the one who was wronged. You see that, don’t you? Anyone can see that.”
I remembered the dozens of Talib, the small-bodied creatures that had been everywhere the last time we were there. Each one had an identical head grown in the witch’s cauldron. All of them made to look like her murdered son.
“Where are the Talib?” I asked.
She clutched the Jerusalem Stone in her hand, and smoke rose from her fist. The air reeked with a burning smell. “I just wanted … I wanted …,” she whimpered. “I just wanted to take back what those monsters stole from me.”
As she said the words, I looked past her to the wall where the firewood was stacked from floor to ceiling. Only now, I realized it wasn’t firewood at all. It was all the heads of the Talib, rows and rows of bodiless heads, piled up ten or twelve high across the length of the wall, their eyes all open and staring at me.
She noticed me staring and turned toward the heads.
“I tried to bring him back,” she said. “You can see how hard I tried. But the Stone refused to work for me. I knew I should wait until I had three, but I was impatient. I thought one might do it. I thought that one might be enough.”
My body tensed. What she was saying wasn’t far off from my own thoughts. I hoped the reunited Jerusalem Stones would be enough to turn both Eva and Daniel back into their human forms. Shakra, the Lord of the Vampires, had told me it could be done, that she knew the Stones had performed this transformation before. But bringing someone back from the dead? That was entirely different.
“But what happened? Why are they all …all …?”
“Why are all my children without bodies?” the witch asked. “Because the second I tried to use the Stone, somehow all the magic I’d used to bring them alive was gone. The heads just rolled off onto the ground. The bodies, the ones I’d spent so many years gathering, all fell to the ground. Worthless.” She turned as she spoke and stared into the fire, losing herself in the flames. “I should have waited,” she mumbled. “Should have waited to get the other Stones.”
Her hand with the Jerusalem Stone in it fell open again. That terrible smoke stopped. Somehow, I had to get that Stone and get out of there. I was starting to regret coming by myself. “Bella,” I said. “You and I made a pact. You swore on your son’s name that you would return that Stone to me if I was able to get the Stone from the Lord of the Demons. I’m going to unite the five and defeat Ren Lucre for good. Give it to me so that I can continue my quest and make him finally pay for what he did to your son.”
She continued to stare into the fire, but she must have heard me because she answered in a whisper. “But you’ll fail. Just like your father before you. Just like your mother. Traitors, the both of them. In their own way.”
I took a step forward, fighting down an impulse to pull my sword. “Why do you say that? What do you know about them?” The Lord of the Demons had said something similar to me. Said I was a pawn in a game I didn’t even know I was playing. Even Aquinas had hinted there was part of the story about my parents that I didn’t know. I was starting to get a little tired of it all. I wanted answers.
The witch only smiled, pleased that I was upset. “A trade, perhaps? The other Jerusalem Stone for the truth about your parents. About Aquinas. About this fool’s quest you’re on. Give me the Stone and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Whatever you tell me will be lies,” I said.
She lunged toward me, moving faster than I imagined she could. One second she was by the fire, the next she was right in front of me, her face a grotesque sneer. “I might be the only one willing to tell you the truth,” she rasped. “Give me the Stone. Give it to me now.”
I took a quick step back and pulled my sword. “No, you give me the one I left with you,” I said. “Look at the way it’s burned your hand. Look at what trying to use it has done to you. It won’t bring your son back. I’m sorry.”
She jerked back sharply as if I’d slapped her. “You’re sorry?” she asked. “Did you say you’re sorry?”
“Give me the Stone. Please,” I said. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“You don’t have to fight me, Jack,” the witch said, clenching the Stone in her fist again. Black smoke rose from it immediately. She raised both hands over her head as if she was about to throw something at me. “All you have to do is die.”

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jeff-gunhusAuthor Jeff Gunhus

Jeff Gunhus is the USA TODAY bestselling author of thriller and horror novels for adults and the middle grade/YA series, The Templar Chronicles. The first book, Jack Templar Monster Hunter, was written in an effort to get his reluctant reader eleven-year-old son excited about reading. It worked and a new series was born. His books for adults have reached the Top 30 on Amazon, have been recognized as Foreword Reviews Book of the Year Finalists and reached the USA TODAY bestseller list.

After his experience with his son, he is passionate about helping parents reach young reluctant readers and is active in child literacy issues. As a father of five, he leads an active life in Maryland with his wife Nicole by trying to constantly keep up with their kids. In rare moments of quiet, he can be found in the back of the City Dock Cafe in Annapolis working on his next novel or on JeffGunhus.com.

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I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl

Immortal by Nicole Conway #ReleaseBlitz @chapterxchapter, @ANConway @month9books

Release Day Celebration: Immortal (Dragonrider Chronicles #4) by Nicole Conway with Giveaway

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Hello Readers! Welcome to the Release Day Celebration for

Immortal (Dragonrider Chronicles #4)
by Nicole Conway

presented by Month9Books!

Don’t miss out on the next book in this series,
and be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!

 

Happy Book Birthday, Nicole!

 

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Destiny has called.

With Jaevid Broadfeather forever lost to the depths of Luntharda, Felix Farrow struggles to stand on his own. He begins a violent downward spiral which causes him to abandon his post as a dragonrider, hiding in the halls of his family estate. His one hope for redemption lies within the heart of someone from his past—and the very last person he ever wanted to see again.

And now the time has finally come.

Hovrid, who has ruled Maldobar as a tyrannical imposter, is preparing to make a decisive assault against Luntharda that will destroy what remains of the elven race. Only Jaevid, Felix, and their trusted friends are able to stand in his way. They have only one chance to end the war, and only one hope to absolve the curse that threatens to destroy their world. The stage is set. The plan is in motion.

What began as one boy’s adventure will now end in blood.

EXCERPT

“When we were fledglings at the academy, you went out of your way to sit with me and get to know me. I’ve always wondered why.”

“I’d heard about the halfbreed student who was joining our ranks. Everyone was talking about how puny you were and that they didn’t expect you to last one day in real training,” he recalled. “I suppose I just wanted to see for myself what you were really like—if you were actually that brave, or just dumb.”

“And? What was the verdict?”

Felix grinned again. “I dunno. The jury’s still out.”

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Immortal (Dragonrider Chronicles #4)
by Nicole Conway
Publication Date: November 8, 2016
Publisher: Month9Books

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Nicole is the author of the children’s fantasy series, THE DRAGONRIDER CHRONICLES, about a young boy’s journey into manhood as he trains to become a dragonrider. She has completed the first two books in the series, and is now working on the third and final book.

Originally from a small town in North Alabama, Nicole moves frequently due to her husband’s career as a pilot for the United States Air Force. She received a B.A. in English with a concentration in Classics from Auburn University, and will soon attend graduate school.

She has previously worked as a freelance and graphic artist for promotional companies, but has now embraced writing as a full-time occupation.

Nicole enjoys hiking, camping, shopping, cooking, and spending time with her family and friends. She also loves watching children’s movies and collecting books. She lives at home with her husband, two cats, and dog.

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 I love this quote, Diana
“I’m wondering what to read next.” — Matilda, Roald Dahl