Labels

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Whispers and the Roars by K. Webster

whispers_blitz


Whispers and the Roars

by K. Webster
Publication Date: December 6, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Dark Romance

new-front-only

Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | Amazon AUS | iBooks | Kobo

When my eyes are closed, the monster can’t ever see me.
When I sing a song in my head, the monster can’t ever hear me.
When I pretend my bedroom is a playground where I play hide and seek, the monster can’t ever find me.

The darkness should frighten me.
I should worry I’ll find more monsters…monsters scarier than him.
But I’m not afraid.

It’s safe here.
When I’m inside of my head…

He. Can’t. Ever. Touch. Me.

Warning:
Whispers and the Roars is a dark romance. Strong sexual themes and violence, which could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. The abuse written in this story is graphic and not glossed over which could be upsetting to some. Proceed with caution. This story is NOT for everyone.

goodreads-badge-add-38px


About K. Webster

K Webster2

K Webster is the author of dozens romance books in many different genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. When not spending time with her husband of twelve years and two adorable children, she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her titles on the big screen.

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

a Rafflecopter giveaway

IndieSageBlogger

Nuttycracker Sweet by Megan O’Russell Bewitching Holiday Extravaganza





Nuttycracker Sweet
Megan O’Russell

Genre: Sweet Romance

Publisher: Fiery Seas Publishing

Date of Publication: 12/08/2015

ISBN: 978-0-9904757-8-1
ASIN: B018DDKLR2

Number of pages: 64
Word Count: 17,000

Cover Artist: Jess Small

Book Description: 

Pointe shoes, tutus, and a snowy road trip with the man she hates. What could possibly go wrong?

The plan was simple. Get to Portland, dance The Nutcracker, and don’t murder your dance partner. And most definitely, do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with him.

A snowy road trip strands Elle Grant in a tiny cabin better suited for serial killings than rehearsals for two professional ballet dancers. With no one but the incredibly talented, excruciatingly handsome, and notoriously terrible Zachary Benson and a few taxidermy woodland creatures for company, Elle’s Christmas plans are officially ruined. Can she and Zach learn to like each other enough to dance together? And can Elle get home without losing her heart to the Christmas Cavalier?


Amazon    BN    Kobo    iTunes






I’ve been an elf, a tap dancing
reindeer, a teddy bear, a showgirl, the Virgin Mary, and Mrs. Cratchit. All for
the joy of Christmas onstage.

I’ve spent my entire life
onstage. Not like every moment of every day, but it’s how I spent all my free
time as a child and how I’ve made my living as an adult. The stage is my home,
the lights are my sunshine, and the cast is my family, even if only for the run
of the show.

Life under the stage lights is
glamorous but hard. And it gets hardest around the holidays.

Just like retail workers and
plenty of other professions, the holiday season is crunch time for performers.
I’ve performed on Thanksgiving for I don’t remember how many years, and on
Christmas Day for five out of the past nine years, and always far away from
home. Don’t get me wrong. I love it. I spend my Christmas Day performing for
either people who have nowhere else to go or who have theatre for Christmas
ingrained in their holiday traditions. (Thanks for keeping me employed,
theatregoers!)

But when you go to the Nutcracker
and see a performer from New York City that is there to lead the local ballet
company, that means that performer packed up her life, braved the elements, and
is trusting in the world that the show will turn out well. That her dance
partner won’t be a terrible human, and that when it’s all over the paycheck
will clear. It’s a life of tiny Christmas trees in hotel rooms, hoping you get
to see your family before New Year’s, and finding someone nearby to make your
Christmas merry and bright. No one wants to be alone for the holidays, even
those of us who live our lives with dance shoes and glitter.

And that is where the holiday
showmance comes into the picture.

In case you’ve never heard the
term “showmance,” it’s a romance that happens during the run of a show. You’re
away from home, living and working with the same people, in a profession where
you are meant to touch your co-workers, and emotions are bared under the
spotlights. It happens all the time. Two people come into a show, play love
interests, get close in cast housing, and fall madly in love.
Sometimes they end up married.
Sometime there’s drinking and sobbing when they break up on closing night.
Sometimes the rest of the cast takes bets to see which way a showmance will go.

But add in the romance of the
holidays—fireplaces, snow, and warm fuzzy feelings—toss in a dash of the normal
human desire to be with those you care for the most for Christmas, and you just
might have the makings of a Christmas romance. Or devastating heartbreak.



From tap dancing soldiers to
beautiful Christmas ballerinas, whomever you watch on stage this Christmas just
remember they are far from home for the holidays so they can bring joy to their
audiences. But don’t worry. It is, in fact, a glamourous life, and while the
stage lights bring warmth and beauty to the show, they can also bring a little
holiday romance along with them.


About the Author:

Megan O’Russell is the author of the young adult fantasy series The Tethering, and Nuttycracker Sweet, a Christmas novella. Megan’s short stories can also be found in several anthologies, including Athena’s Daughters 2, featuring women in speculative fiction. Megan is a professional performer who has spent time on stages across the country and is the lyrist for Second Chances: The Thrift Shop Musical, which received it’s world premier in 2015. When not on stage or behind a computer, Megan can usually be found playing her ukulele or climbing a mountain with her fantastic husband.




a Rafflecopter giveaway










#PNR and #UF Giveaway Party with Xpresso Book Tours

Welcome to the #PNR and #UF Giveaway Party!

Who’s ready for a giveaway you can get your hands on? A bunch of authors
got together to bring your this Big Box of Paperbacks Giveaway! One
lucky winner is going to win SIXTY-TWO (62) Paperback Books!
How’s that for an epic Book-Lover’s Prize?! If you are a fan of Urban
Fantasy, Dystopian Fiction, or Paranormal/SciFi Romance, you’re going to
want to get in on this! The best part is that even if you don’t win,
you’ll be subscribed to the sponsoring authors newsletters for a chance
to grab some freebies, snag some special offers, and enter more
giveaways!


Here are a couple of sneak peeks!


Excerpt from Foxblood: A Brush with the Moon by Raquel Lyon

The funeral was a typically sombre affair, alive with soggy tissues and streaky make-up. I stood at the back, letting the vicar’s voice wash over me, and spent the whole time staring at the flower-laden coffin, wondering if the lid would suddenly flip up and a fanged monster would escape to reap its vengeance on the congregation.


Unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen, and as the mourners dispersed in the direction of the pub, I quietly snuck off home. I wasn’t in the mood for crowds and needed time to think, time to try to make sense of at least something, but as I turned to close the door, it was obstructed by a perfectly polished black shoe that belonged to…


“Sebastian?”


“Seb, please,” he said, easing his way through. “Only my father calls me Sebastian.” He checked down the backstreet and closed the door securely. His eyes scanned the flat. “Nice place.”


“I like it.”


“It doesn’t bother you? Living over a funeral parlour?” he asked.


“Why would it? The neighbours are quiet.”


He didn’t laugh at my joke; neither did he comment. He simply stood silently, staring. It was very unnerving and made my legs go all wobbly. Perhaps if I turned away from him, he’d disappear again? It was worth a shot. I forced my jelly legs over to the front window and stared out at nothing in particular. The light was subdued, and the sky had darkened to an air force grey. A low mist was beginning to carpet the distant fields, and I wondered if snow had been forecast.


I knew my little experiment hadn’t worked. He was still there. I could feel his presence and smell his scent, a musky, inviting aroma that filled my senses and sent my head into a whirl, and it was getting stronger.


“Your friends interrupted us the other day. Can we talk now?” he whispered softly into my neck, and his fingertips traced a fiery trail down my spine.


“What’s the point? There’s nothing to say. I wish you’d just leave me alone,” I said, lowering my head in time to see Lara leaving the newsagents. She glanced up with a look of fury contorting her face as Sebastian’s hands reached around either side of me and grabbed the window frame.


“I can’t do that. I’m not that strong,” he said.


I studied the arms now imprisoning me, with their perfectly formed muscles straining against the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt, and seriously doubted his statement. His stance was predatory and made me feel uncomfortable. I ducked under his elbow to escape, but he caught me around the waist and pulled me against him. Our bodies moulded together perfectly, and the strength of his grip made me feel like a china doll that he’d be able to crush in an instant. He was almost a full head taller than I was, and the warmth of his breath caressed my forehead. How easy it would be to reach up and taste those lips. I imagined the feel of them, and my own parted in an involuntary invitation.

The full Foxblood series can be seen here: http://foxifae.wixsite.com/raquellyon





--

Autumn Winters, Realm Watchers Book 1  by J. S. Malcom 

The
rain has stopped, but fog crept in while I sat in Rory’s. I walk
through that fog now, the streetlights casting cones of luminescence
that capture swirling mist. I should go straight home, but I really want
a bottle of wine. J.J.’s Market is only two blocks off and I walk
toward neon signs advertising beer and cigarettes, drawn like a moth.
Not long ago, I was newly married, looking forward to finishing my MFA
in Design with the hope of someday starting my own business. I barely
drank and rarely got drunk. Now, I’m wandering around out here at night
trying to avoid ghosts and unwilling to go home without alcohol because
I’m afraid I won’t sleep. My eyes start to prickle and I wipe the back
of my hand across my face. 
 

And,
no, I’m not alone. I can’t hear her behind me—her steps will never make
sound again. All the same, I feel her there and soon she walks beside
me.
 

“Hello?” she says. 

I keep walking. God, it breaks my heart but I don’t want her next to me. 

“Can you hear me?” 

Yes, I can hear you. I say nothing. 

One
block to go and maybe I’ll just uncork that bottle right in the store.
With any luck, she’ll veer off and find some other lucky person to latch
onto. 
 

“I
really need your help.” Her breath hitches as her voice rises in pitch.
She’s also crying and I just can’t ignore her—it’s not about me
anymore.
 

I slow down, then stop. I wipe my eyes, realizing that she’s not the only one crying. 

“Are you okay?” she says. 

Seriously? Things have gotten that bad? 

I take a deep breath to calm down. “I’m fine. Okay, I’m lying but I can deal with that later. What’s going on with you?” 

“I’m not dead,” she says.  

I
turn to look at her. No, she doesn’t look dead but many of them don’t.
Not to me, anyway. Some are more translucent while others appear
basically the same as you and me, give or take the glow around them.
That’s not guaranteed either. People are all
different,
whether dead or alive. One of my new theories is that we all start out
as “dead” before becoming “alive” again. Like a lightbulb switching on
and off again here in this realm. I think it’s a circular system. It
seems an efficient use of energy. In this theory, ghosts are glitches.
But this girl next to me isn’t interested in hearing about my theories,
which change daily anyway. She just wants to know what’s going on.
 

I
really don’t want to go there right now but I’m stuck in this
situation. I look at her young, beautiful face. Trusting eyes stare back
at me.
 

“I’m really sorry,” I say. “Did it happen fast? Was it a car crash or something?” 

She shakes her head. “That’s not what happened.” 

I don’t want to take it to the next level but, evidently, I have no choice. “Did you commit suicide?” 

That
happens a lot too, I’ve come to learn. Suicide is a big one for getting
you grounded. You cause that kind of pain and you just can’t move on. 
 

She shakes her head again. “No. Please, that isn’t what happened.” 

I think for a moment, hesitating because I hate the dark stuff. I really don’t want to know if she was murdered.  

“I’m not dead,” she says. “I swear. They took my body!” 








XBTBanner1


Pocket Full of Tinder by Jill Archer


Pocket Full of Tinder
Noon Onyx #4
Jill Archer

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: Black Willow, LLC

Date of Publication: December 15, 2016

ISBN (ebook) – 978-0-9979138-0-4
ISBN (print) – 978-0-9979138-1-1

ASIN: B01MEGPUA4

Word Count: 90,000

Cover Artist:  Rebecca Frank

Book Description:

Noon Onyx is back! In this long-awaited fourth installment, Jill Archer returns readers to the dangerous world of Halja, where demons, angels, and humans coexist in an uneasy state of détente.

Maegester-in-Training Noon Onyx feels like she’s done it all – mastered fiery magic, become an adept fighter, learned the law, killed countless demons, and survived having her heart broken by both love and an arrow, but now she’ll face her greatest challenge yet…

Far to the north lies an outpost famous for its unrest – Rockthorn Gorge. The town’s patron has specifically requested Noon’s help. Her assignment? Help the neophyte demon lord build his fiefdom and keep what’s his. The problem? Lord Aristos – Noon’s new employer – is her erstwhile lover, Ari Carmine, the aforementioned heartbreaker. And the number one thing he wants is her.

When Rockthorn Gorge’s viaduct is destroyed by Displodo, an enigmatic bomber, killing a dozen settlers and wounding scores more, Noon sets off early to aid in the search and rescue. Ari is listed among the missing and the suspects are legion. But Noon’s search is just the beginning. Her journey forces Noon to confront not only those she loves, but also enemies hell-bent on destroying them.

Pre-Order Links:
Book will also be available on Nook and CreateSpace on or about the release date.
Excerpt
POCKET FULL OF TINDER
Noon Onyx #4


The claw-and-ball had been chewed clean off. It lay on a patch of sunny parquet floor, just to the right of an antique, aubergine wool rug now covered with the splintered remnants of an eleventh century pedestal table and one very large, ghastly looking, somewhat repentant barghest.

Nova’s head rested on her front paws as her gaze shifted warily from me to Miss Bister, Megiddo’s dormater, or house mother.

“Megiddo’s lobby is not a kennel, Miss Onyx. That”—she motioned dismissively toward Nova—“beast can no longer be housed here.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Miss Bister continued speaking, her tone rising only infinitesimally, her back as stiff as Luck’s lance must have been, and her expression just as hard. She pointed toward the previously priceless, three-footed piece of furniture that was now a worthless, two-footed pile of kindling.

“No amount of money – or magic – can fix that, Nouiomo. It’s beyond repair. I warned you. I made an exception to my ‘no pets’ rule because you never cause trouble. You never forget your key; you promptly pick up your deliveries; you change your own light bulbs; you double bag your trash. You leave nothing behind in the bathroom; you don’t monopolize the washing machines; you are exceedingly polite to the lift operator; you don’t sing in the shower.”

I suppressed a sigh. After a year and a half of painstaking efforts, harrowing experiences, and endless hours of education, my worth had just been measured by the fact that I could change a light bulb. I’d mastered fiery magic, become an adept fighter, learned the law, killed countless demons (one regrettably, the others much less so), freed myriad immortals from an accursed, tortured bondage, and survived having my heart nearly destroyed by both love and an arrow, yet none of that meant bupkis next to the fact that I double bagged my trash. And yet…

I couldn’t really argue with Miss Bister either. Everything she’d said was true. And who was I to tell her what she should deem important? I respected that she valued domestic order and antiques. I did too, if not nearly as much as I valued the thing that now threatened our continued access to such. I glared at Nova, who swept one paw over her eyes as if she could hide from me and the evidence of what she’d done.

Barghests are giant hellhounds. They’re bigger than bears, fiercer than rabid raccoons, and uglier than naked mole rats. Their teeth are the size of railroad spikes, their claws as sharp as a sickle, their breath as foul as sewage gas. But they are also affectionate, brave, and loyal. What barghests lack in magic, they make up for in devotion. And even though I was plenty mad at Nova for chewing up Miss Bister’s table, I also knew it wasn’t Nova’s fault.

It was mine – for thinking the lobby of a demon law school dormitory would be a good place to keep her.

“Miss Bister, please,” I said. “I’m truly sorry. I know I can’t replace that exact table. But if you would just allow me to—”

“No,” Miss Bister said simply. “Either the beast goes… Or you do.”

I stared at the small, frail, magicless woman in front of me, trying desperately to think of some way to fix this problem. Wasn’t there something I could do, or say, or offer her that would make amends and convince her not to kick us out?

But all I could think of was how useless some of the things our society valued most were. As Miss Bister had pointed out, neither magic nor money would help. If I was going to repair the table, I’d need to find another way. Which would take time. And that meant I’d need to find somewhere else for us to sleep tonight. Because if the beast was going… I was too.

“Yes, Miss Bister,” I said. “I understand.”

She narrowed her eyes, slightly suspicious of my now gracious defeat since I’d just spent the last half-hour trying to persuade her to accept various forms of reparation. But then she nodded, handed me a couple of paper bin bags, and left.

I slid one bag inside the other and stooped down to pick up the slobbery remains of Nova’s mangled chew toy. When I finished, she came over to me and nudged my arm with her head. She let out a woofy whine.

Was she sorry? She darn well better be!

I gave her a scratch behind the ears.

“Now that you’ve sharpened your teeth on my former dormater’s furniture, are you ready to eat some real food for breakfast?”

About the Author:

Jill Archer writes dark, genre-bending fantasy from rural Maryland. Her novels include Dark Light of Day, Fiery Edge of Steel, White Heart of Justice, and Pocket Full of Tinder. She loves cats, coffee, books, movies, day tripping, and outdoor adventuring.








Tour giveaway:
Two prize options:
#1 – an Etsy “Book Lover” prize pack (https://www.etsy.com/people/archer48/favorites/pocket-full-of-tinder-book-lover-prize-pack), which includes a book hoarder dragon poster, a dozen book page flowers, six book wine charms, and a pair of book earrings. (U.S. Only for Option #1. If these items are no longer available on Etsy, winner will receive Option #2). Or #2 -- $50 worth of fantasy books from Book Depository and a $25 Etsy gift certificate.
Embed code