White Water Passion by Dawn Luedecke

White Water Passion

Dawn Luedecke

Genre: Historical Romance

Publisher: Kensington

Date of Publication: November 12, 2017

ISBN: 978-1516103461

ASIN: B06VXY79YL

Number of pages: 301

Word Count: 89k

Tagline: Only by working together can they save their mill…and their future.

Book Description:

The Montana Territory is one of the last outposts of the American West—where adventure as grand as the wide-open plains is around every corner, and passion as wild as the land itself beats in every heart . . .

Elizabeth Sanders isn’t afraid of anything, except what will happen to her beloved town if the Big Mountain Lumber Mill is destroyed. When she overhears a plot to do just that, she vows to put a stop to it, even if it means dressing as a young lumberjack to expose the saboteur. There’s only one problem with her plan—her brother’s handsome friend and fellow logger Garrett Jones, who arouses a desire within her soul as fierce as the river rapids.

When Garrett discovers that the odd new lad on the crew is in fact Beth, he’s shocked. A logging camp is no place for a young woman—especially the spirited beauty he’s admired for so long. Keeping her safe is easier said than done, however, as the attraction between them flares into true passion. As the danger mounts, Beth and Garrett must work together to survive the last log run down the wild rapids and claim any chance of saving the mill—and their chance at a future .

Amazon     Apple     Google Play     Kobo     Nook     Kensington

“Well written, well researched. Like the river, this plot runs faster and faster. Readers won’t be able to put it down.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jodi Thomas

Excerpt:

Missoula
Montana, 1888

Elizabeth
Sanders could vanish right now, and no one would notice. She blended in with
every other woman by wearing her matching pinstriped walking skirt and blouse.
Each store clerk and patron in Missoula, focused on their affairs without a
care to their neighbor, would fail to notice if she walked through Higgins
Street naked, let alone disappeared into thin air. They certainly wouldn’t look
twice when she came back this way a different person.

Hundreds of
people bustled in the heat of the Montana sun doing the same old things, the
same old ways, with nothing to show for their trouble but dirty shoes. If
Elizabeth was going to get her shoes dirty, she preferred to have fun doing
it…the Devil May Care way.

Navigating the
pedestrian-riddled streets was treacherous at best. Times like this made her
wish she’d taken her grandmother’s buggy. At least then she wouldn’t be jostled
around like a dirty shirt in a churning wash bin. A deep exhale boosted her
determination enough to risk a step to the side to duck around a particularly
slow matriarch. The small triumph lasted only a moment before she slammed into
a hard chest.

The soft fabric
of a well-tailored suit skimmed her cheek a split second before warm hands
reached out to steady her. The touch—firm, yet gentle—made her feel like she
now balanced on the back of a high-strung and wild mustang as it fled down a
hill with uncontrolled freedom. She hadn’t needed the extra hand. Wasn’t in
danger of falling over. What sort of dullard rescues a woman in no need of
liberation? She pulled away and adjusted her skirts as he let go. Her mind
focused once more.

“Pardon me.” She
glanced up to a familiar face. One she’d seen many times in her dreams. Her
breath failed as her brother’s friend, Garrett Jones, peered down at her with
silver-clouded eyes. Oh, how he made the world spin whenever he drew near. His
handsome, yet rugged, face made her fingers ache to touch the severe lines of
his jaw. The rich scent of tobacco infused with lavender and some sort of
citrus drifted on the breeze. Eau de Cologne. A fragrance only the wealthiest
of men in Montana could afford. A scent belying the canvas pants, spiked boots,
and sturdy cotton shirt he sported every time she’d seen him on the train
platform.

“Elizabeth.” Did
he say her name, or did she dream the word? Oh to be noticed by a man like
Garrett Jones. The only man who could make butterflies flit around in her
stomach and fear slide through her chest in the same confusing moment.

The hem of her
dress hovered mere inches from his feet. Her face heated and heart began to
pound. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the man who led the
Devil May Care boys. The man who held her future in his hands if she succeeded
in becoming part of his crew at the logging camp. If things went the way she
planned, she’d be staring into his amber and steel speckled eyes for the rest
of the season. Did he truly recognize her after all these years of no more than
a passing glance?

About the Author:

A country girl born and bred, Dawn Luedecke has spent most of her life surrounded by horses, country folk, and the wild terrain of Nevada, Idaho and Montana. As a child she would spend many afternoons reading books, watching western classics, and Rogers and Hammerstein movies. When she grew up she decided to leave the quiet country life for a chance to find adventure by serving a successful tour in the United States Coast Guard. During that time she found her soul mate (and alpha male) and started a family and writing career. She enjoys writing historical and paranormal romance and spends as much time as she can working on her current manuscript.

For more information visit www.dawnluedeckebooks.com

Twitter: @d_luedecke

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordawnluedecke

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/dawnluedecke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dawnluedeckebooks/


Interview with Dawn Luedecke

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

My inspirations usually come when I am doing research. I will find a fact about something that happened in the past that is completely out of the ordinary and it will spark a whole new story. For instance, in WHITE WATER PASSION my inspiration came when I found a blurb and picture about a group of river loggers in Missoula. They were said to be wild and have a ‘devil may care attitude toward life.’ Another time I discovered the army had brought camels to Montana around 1850 as an experiment, which sparked the idea for “To Tame a Montana Heart.” I love to get inspiration from the smallest of historical facts.

How did you do research for your book?

I love to collect historical nonfiction books, but unfortunately those were my books that got destroyed when our house flooded during Hurricane Harvey. On a positive note, I get to start collecting all over again. In addition to non-fiction books, my family and I LOVE to go to museums and historical places (such as Tombstone, deserted Montana mines, etc). And for WHITE WATER PASSION, I did both.

Do you have another profession besides writing?

I am a mother, veteran, military spouse, and (on occasion) homeschool teacher.

If you could go back in time, where would you go?

If I was back in time with my husband I’m sure we would go to Tombstone. However, I would love to visit nineteenth century England, and the American west.

What is your next project?

I’m working on Montana Bound, book 3 in my Montana Girl series, which will be self published with books 1 and 2 late next year. I also have a Coast Guard boot-camp contemporary out on submission and hoping to hear from editors soon.

The Crooked Boy by Moses Barraza

If you have read many of my reviews or you now me you know I love a good ghost story. And a ghost story in an asylum is on very close to the top of my list of favorites. So when I saw this book on Netgalley I had to request it.

The book started out pretty good. I just wished it had of stayed that way. I thought I as going to be reading a book that took place in a haunted asylum instead it started in the asylum then jumps to a few months later where bad things are happening to all the kids who survived their night at the asylum.

I have to say the grammar and punctuation was pretty bad in the book. I am not sure if the copy I received was the unedited version or not. Te book had a lot of flashback in that had nothing to do with the story at all and kind of left me a bit bored. The book is creepy in spots i have to give it that, the part about the sex party with teenagers could of totally been left out though.

I received this book from the Author or Publisher via Netgalley.com to read and review.

Playing Dead by Bronson Palmer blitz

Playing Dead
Bronson Palmer
Publication date: November 7th 2017
Genres: Science Fiction, Young Adult

In the halls of Andrew Jackson High School, Jenaiya is a nobody. Less than a nobody. She’s practically invisible. An awkward, shy freshman, she very rarely gets any attention at all, unless she’s being harassed by the school’s multitude of bullies. In short, she’s not anyone’s idea of a hero.

But in ‘Age of Z,’ a post-apocalyptic multiplayer zombie game, she’s a gun-wielding, fast-talking GOD. She’s one of the top ten players in the online dystopia, and she doesn’t suffer fools lightly. It’s just the way she plays, and she likes it that way. She can become the person she wishes herself to be in the real world.

However, when the game gets overrun by trolls and n00bs who threaten to destroy the game by turning it into yet another online shooter, Jenaiya cannot sit still and let that happen. The very existence of the game is on the line, as people leave in droves, and she gathers a rag-tag group of players to fight back against this new kind of ‘brainless’ horde. They have wildly different personalities but one goal: rid the game of the real monsters.

Jenaiya will have to outsmart her enemies, outplay the bullies, and return ‘Age of Z’ to its former glory. Otherwise, it’s game over, and she’ll have to confront the real world that awaits her on the other side of the computer screen.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

Meet Jenaiya. She’s a survivor.

By Bronson Palmer

Meet Jenaiya. She’s the tough, flawed, sometimes misguided protagonist of ‘Playing Dead.’ A meek freshman at a particularly rough high school, Jenaiya spends most of the book trying to negotiate all the different areas of her life, from her online identity to her relationship with her family and her sexual identity. She’s not a simple character, and this is not an easy story to tell. It would be easy to make her an empty vessel for the events inside ‘Age of Z,’ but it was my goal to provide the audience with a believable, real character to identify with so each victory and defeat felt that much more credible.

When the novel begins, Jenaiya leads a fairly ordinary but unenviable life in Nashville. She hates school, because the school she attends is a haven for miscreants of all types. It seems as though everyone around her is a villain of some kind, and she is a constant target of their attacks. Her only refuge happens to be her favorite video game, ‘Age of Z,’ where she’s able to unleash her adolescent rage on an unsuspecting public. It provides insight into how Jenaiya feels the world really should run. She values fairness and fair play, loyalty, and integrity.

However, in the real world, beyond the confines of a digital asylum, rather than doing the right thing because it’s the right thing, she also gets caught up in the idea that “the ends justify the means,” which lands her in a whole heap of trouble. When it comes to bullies, especially teenage ones, it’s oh so tempting to fight fire with fire, but that usually ends up making things worse, as it does in ‘Playing Dead.’ Jenaiya wants to level the playing field for everyone, from the jocks to the dreamers and the jokers to the drama queens, but that’s not entirely how the world works, so the fuse she lights early in the novel eventually explodes right in her face.

Her digital world is rocked when her favorite game — really, the only game she plays — is trounced by new players who treat ‘Age of Z’ like your everyday, run-of-the-mill, cookie cutter first-person shooter. To Jenaiya, ‘AoZ’ is so much more than that. It’s a post-apocalyptic game, sure, but the world is built around relationships. See, in ‘Age of Z,’ players wander a vast wasteland in search of supplies. They can be found in buildings, abandoned cars, but the best place, by far, to hit the item jackpot is another player.

Only, players are tough to kill, and it’s much easier to work cooperatively with that person or negotiate peacefully to trade supplies. Think ‘FallOut’ without all the headshots. The game is loosely based on the experiential ‘sandbox’ games which have become popular over the past few years. Games like ‘Minecraft,’ ‘H1Z1,’ and ‘DayZ’ inform the gameplay, so if you’ve played those titles, you understand that the strategy lies not in quick-twitch mouse-and-keyboard murder sessions but in how you interact with the world and the other players.

What Jenaiya understands inherently, the new players do not, and it frustrates her. Being an African-American loner, Jenaiya feels yet another thing she loves get co-opted by society at-large, and rather than allow it to happen, she decides to fight back. She’s willing to befriend all of the different warring factions within ‘Age of Z’ to make that happen, if she has to. But she refuses — absolutely refuses — to give up on this game until she’s dead and gone.

That’s where the portmanteau character MICHONNEN_KNIFE comes in. I make a few sly references to ‘Fight Club’ throughout the book, and though the tone of ‘Playing Dead’ is nowhere near a Palahniuk novel, MICHONNEN_KNIFE is the Tyler Durden to Jenaiya’s normal Jack character. Where Jenaiya is meek and accommodating, MICHONNEN_KNIFE is uncompromising, and Jenaiya basks in every opportunity to live in that digital construction’s skin.

As a bonus, I decided to get a faux-D&D player card designed to show the audience just what MICHONNEN_KNIFE (+1 if you can guess both references embedded in the name) has to offer Jenaiya. Hope you enjoy perusing it, and if you’ve dug this blog post, you can get lots more obscure references throughout the whole of ‘Playing Dead.’

GIVEAWAY!

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Forsaking Hope by Beverley Oakley Blog Tour

Forsaking Hope

Fair Cyprians of London
By Beverley Oakley

Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here. 

About the Book: 

Two years ago, she missed their secret assignation and disappeared without a trace. Now the divine "Miss Hope" is in Felix Durham’s bed - a 'surprise cheering-up gift' sourced by his friends from London's most exclusive brothel. Felix is in heaven - and he wants to stay there.

So does Hope, but she can’t.

Hope Merriweather lives by a code of honour – even if she’s a prostitute.

Having sold her soul, she’s prepared to sacrifice everything else to protect what she believes in.

Even if honour – in her eyes – comes at the cost of thieving and breaking hearts. Including her own.

Available for preorder here:

Amazon US | Amazon UK | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Excerpt: 

Chapter One

Wilfred Hunt.
If there was a name to tip Hope into the abyss of despair she was hearing it spill from Madame Chambon’s lips now as the older woman directed Hope to take a seat in the reception room, presumably so Madame could loom oppressively over her.
With her hands on her ample, expensively padded hips, Hope’s benefactress—procuress, employer and gaoler were other monikers—sent Hope a beetling look that needed no interpreting: Regardless of Hope’s true feelings, Hope must project the required show of warmth and delight at being the chosen one.
Madame patted the side of her faux curls. Years of hot irons had reduced her hair to the texture of wool but her crowning glory these days was supplemented by the lustrous locks of those girls who dared cross her – before they were thrown back into the street from where most had come.
Nevertheless, Hope had to make her resistance clear. Surely Madame who knew her history would understand her loathing for this man, above all others. “I shan’t do it,” she whispered. There was little evidence of the willful child and wild adolescent who’d been the despair of her family. “I won’t—”
Outside, the noise of the traffic rumbling over the cobbles and the shrill calls of competing vendors settled upon the tense silence. Madame Chambon’s other girls, ranged around the sumptuously appointed room on red velvet upholstered banquettes, watched the exchange with prurient fascination. Hope knew it had been a calculated ploy of Madame’s to conduct her interview in public so that Hope would serve as an example to them.
No one crossed Madame Chambon.
The shrill cry of a fishmonger caused Madame to look pointedly out of the window. With something between a smile and a sneer, she smoothed a Marcel wave. “Is that where you plan to return, Hope? The gutter?” Her nose twitched and in the sunlight that filtered into the room, the grooves chiselled between mouth and chin were thrown into harsh relief, highlighted rather than hidden by the thick powder she used to conceal her age.
Madame Chambon’s comfort, now and into retirement, depended on obedient girls. Hope knew that as well as anyone. She’d had to bury her rebellious streak just to ensure food in her belly.
The Frenchwoman raised a chiselled brow and began to pace slowly in front of her girls. A painter with an eye for beauty would have been ecstatic at capturing such a spectacle on canvas. The discerning young man about town who visited 56 Albemarle Street was frequently rendered ecstatic by the range of delights Madame Chambon's girls offered in addition to the visual.
“You forget yourself, Hope. I put a roof over your head and deck you out as handsomely as Mr Charles Worth ever did for his most discerning customer.” There was acid in Madame Chambon’s tone. “But for me, you'd be starving and glad of the pennies you could trade for a grubby stand-up encounter in a dark alley.” Madame Chambon thrust out her bosom and breathed through her nose, her response a calculated warning to the other girls arranged in various languid poses about the ornately decorated reception room that intransigence would not be tolerated.
“Mr Hunt has requested you.” She paused and when Hope remained silent, though her stance and expression left no one in any doubt as to her horror regarding this enforced assignation, went on. “Remember what I told you—what I tell all my girls when they first come here? The past must be forgotten the moment you step over my threshold. You are reborn, remodelled, refashioned into the most exquisite delectation of womanhood. A marquess, a prince, is well recompensed for the tidy sum he hands over in order to enjoy your sparkling wit, to converse with you in French, or if he chooses, on philosophy…to enjoy your charms…and,” she added significantly, “your gracious hospitality and tender ministrations to his needs. That is our agreement and you are no different. If Mr Hunt wishes you, Hope, to attend him at his residence then you will go.”
Faith, one of the kinder girls, patted Hope’s arm in silent solidarity. Hope didn’t expect any of them to speak up in her defence. Not when they all relied on Madame Chambon as much as she did to provide them with the necessities of life. Anything more than that was part of a strict contract that indentured a girl for life unless she was able to secure a generous benefactor to settle Madame's severance bill. The fine clothes were part of the charade, necessary to entice a more elite clientele. Hope’s exquisite wardrobe did not belong to her though she'd have forsaken all the dupion silk and Spitalfields lace for the freedom of the gutter and to be mistress of her own destiny – and her body - if she could only be sure of a plate of gravy and potatoes every second day.
Closing her eyes, she hung her head, the carefully coiffed curls that fell forwards brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks. It was as well that they not be in evidence. Tears, weakness, vulnerability were like a red rag to a bull where Madame Chambon was concerned.
“How long…do I have to prepare myself?” She was not so stupid she couldn’t admit defeat when there was no alternative. Obduracy was beaten out of one, but tears ensured a girl got the very worst next assignment. Their clients weren’t all marquesses and princes, though they did require a very fat pocket book.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Hope repeated it in a leaden tone, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap; white-knuckled. As white as the rabbit-fur that edged her fashionable black-and-white striped satin cuirass. Hope had the tall, slim figure suited to the scandalously tight tie-back skirts that were all the rage, the back flowing into a train adorned with elaborate swags and trimmed with bows. She'd turned heads the length of Oxford Street as she’d promenaded along the pavement following a walk through Hyde Park earlier that afternoon. In fact, for the first time in two years, she’d almost felt happy as she’d pretended a sense of freedom in the afternoon sun, blocking her mind to the prison to which she was returning.
She drew in her breath and forced herself to be brave, knowing the punishment she’d invite for daring to speak her mind. “Please tell Mr Hunt I will see him again under sufferance.”
Madame Chambon’s voice was surprisingly caramel. “Well then, now that you have made your objection clear, Hope, you will be pleased to hear that Mr Hunt’s desires are not only motivated by fond memories of your no-doubt mutually satisfying congress. I believe he wishes to acquaint you with news of your family.”
Hope hid her shock. “I have no family.” With care, she modified her tone so it was as leaden as before though emotion roiled close to the surface.
“Not even a sister?”
Hope raised her chin. Here was the chink and Madame knew it. The woman did her research.
Aware that the other girls who surrounded her were tense with anticipation, Hope struggled not to respond. Camaraderie existed at surface level but one never knew when it might profit one to have the dirt on a fellow prostitute. It was, clearly, another reason Madame Chambon had chosen to make this conversation public.
“Mr Hunt will see you at nine tomorrow evening,” said the so-called Frenchwoman who, it was whispered, was from the gutters of Lambeth, not Paris. “At his apartments in Duke Street. Now go and prepare yourself for Lord Farrow. Married to a monolith like the venerable Lady Farrow, he likes his girls vivacious and free-spirited. There’ll be less coin in your pocket if you sully the transaction with that long face, Hope.”

~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info: 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.

Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

You can get in contact with Beverley at:

Website | Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Goodreads

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A-C-T Like a Kid and T-H-I-N-K Like a Parent by Katherine Shears and C.S. Whitehurst

About the Book

Title: A-C-T Like a Kid and T-H-I-N-K Like a Parent

Author: Katherine Shears and C.S. Whitehurst

Genre: Nonfiction self-help

Just for kicks, have you ever wondered what your parents really want from you in life? Is it you, or do your parents want you to have no real fun? On any given day, do you want to make your parents proud of you and still do what makes you feel really happy within yourself? Of course you do! But the real question has always been, and still is…how? How can we actually get this done?

Well, with A-C-T like a Kid and T-H-I-N-K like a Parent, a.k.a "the child-part consoler", you will get past common misunderstandings by learning how to truly talk, hear, and listen to your parents, guardians or caregivers instead of feeling like you have to run to friends to find some sense of acceptance, understanding, and real connection.

In this book, chock-full of questions and answers gotten directly from the source, you’ll learn what your parents, guardians or caregivers really expect of you—and maybe you’ll even find out how to explain to them what you really expect from them! Not that this book could ever replace a parent, because it can not. But when it comes to openly communicating certain key ideas, this book comes really close.

This tell-all guide contains lots of enlightening explanations and helpful answers to many common kid questions like:

• What do my parents really want from me?
• Why do my parents do what they do and say what they say?
• What do I really need to know about my parents' parenting skills?
• How can I keep my parents happy with me?
• How can I help my parents to help me?
• How can I get what I want from my parents every time?

A-C-T like a Kid and T-H-I-N-K like a Parent is an intro to the secret knowledge of adults which is a set of informations that is mainly covered in the book entitled Surrogate Re-Parenting: A.K.A. Get Your Mind Right, and even more thoroughly covered in the book The Secret Knowledge Of Adults. While this book, A-C-T like a Kid and T-H-I-N-K like a Parent is intended for kids 10 and up, the info in this book is beneficial and useful to the intelligent kid parts in all of us. Yes, this means you too.

The information in this book will help you and yours to start to see your parents, not as the enemy, but as the caring human beings they really are, and take the first step toward family unity, understanding, growth, success, and happiness! Both you and your parents really deserve this, and with this book, A-C-T like a Kid and T-H-I-N-K like a Parent, you and your parents can actually achieve this.

Dragon Guardian by Ophelia Bell blitz

Dragon Guardian
Ophelia Bell
(Immortal Dragons, #5)
Publication date: December 8th 2017
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Time isn’t on Aodh’s side when he gets trapped in a magical prison on an island thousands of years in the past. The only people who can save him are an old lover he didn’t exactly part on good terms with, and the innocent ursa female whose true power has yet to be unleashed as long as she remains a virgin.

Aodh’s Fated Mates, Neph and Vrishti, have never met. When the ancient satyr and ursa princess finally do, they aren’t quite sure they can trust each other. Will they be able to overcome their misgivings enough to pool their powers and rescue the man they both love?

But even reunited, their journey isn’t over. Their mortal enemy is on the loose, and her hunger for power threatens to tear their entire world apart.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play

—

EXCERPT:

Are you prepared?

Vrishti took another long swallow of wine, her eyes wide and intense. “What if I told you I could give you a link to the Source? I know an ursa spell that lets me access that power.”

The hesitance in her voice was the only thing that kept him from jumping up and demanding that she show him now. He spread his fingers and pressed his palms flat on the surface of the table, staring across at her.

“If you have a spell that does that, I want to see it. Then we can decide if I can reach Aodh.”

“I can’t,” she said. “Not yet. I haven’t reached my estrous yet, and I won’t have enough power for the spell until I do.”

“The spell is tied to your fertility, isn’t it?” he asked, beginning to understand her fear of divulging all the details. If she hadn’t reached her estrous, there was a strong chance she was a virgin. More than strong, judging from her behavior. The power wasn’t just the simple command of the life energy that permeated the world and all living things—a power even a male ursa like Cade could access at will, if they were trained for it.

“I have to … um,” she began, then shot a fearful look at them both as though she’d just realized she was sitting in a room alone with two very virile males.

Cade was the first to break the silence, and he did so with a loud laugh. “Kiddo, you’ve dug yourself into a nice little hole here, haven’t you? I’ll help you out, since you’re very new to the whole ursa gig. All that sweet power that builds up inside females before their estrous comes straight from the Source. That’s why it’s so damn dangerous. But the only way to let it out is for you to have an orgasm. Or even better, a whole lot of orgasms. I never knew it could be harnessed and reused … Mostly us males just channel it back to Gaia. So you’re telling us that you have a spell that lets you do that?”

Cade’s clinical explanation did nothing to cool Neph’s rising lust. Vrishti had come to him with this request, one that she knew required her to give herself to him. Or did she know?

“You understand this means we’ll have to fuck?”

Gaia’s tears, simply saying the words made his cock painfully hard.

Cade cursed. “Let the kid get her bearings, for fuck’s sake. Nobody’s fucking anybody.”

“It’s all right, Cade,” Vrishti said. “I … I’m aware of how I access the power. I only had an idea of how you would access it, but now I know. If it means rescuing Aodh, then I’m prepared.”

Neph let out a sardonic chuckle. “I don’t think you are.” He stood up from the table. “Let me show you exactly what you need to be prepared for, because the only way for me to use my full power is in my primal form.” He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt, then his jeans, stripping deliberately out of each item of clothing, ignoring Cade’s fountain of profanity. She had to see.

Vrishti sat stock still, her mouth slightly open and her eyes growing wider.

“You don’t have to …” she started. “I mean, I get it …” She raised a hand when he stood naked in front of her after walking around the table.

“This isn’t what I need to show you,” he said, then summoned his primal shape and shifted. In a smooth flow of magic, his body grew. Giant horns sprouted from his head, curving back from his temples in coiling ram’s horns, and his lower body spawned a coat of thick, black fleece. “This is.”

Even in his human shape, it’d been impossible not to be aroused by her. His simple nakedness a moment earlier had heightened her reaction to the point that he could easily scent her desire. But now his cock had grown in both size and need with the surge of his primal instincts. The thick length protruded from its nest of fleece at his groin, massive shaft curving up in a smooth arc that pointed directly at Vrishti.

“Are you prepared for this, girl?” he asked, voice dripping with every ounce of lust that filled him. He gripped his shaft and gave it a long stroke, enjoying how she licked her lips. He’d happily bend her over the table and fuck her now, but despite that wild craving, he still knew better—though he would have tormented her more with his satyr shape if Cade hadn’t stepped between them and shoved Neph backward.

“You fucking son of a bitch! Get yourself under control, man. I said, nobody is fucking anyone in this house. Not tonight. Not after all that goddamn wine, and especially not without her saying she’s good and goddamn ready for it.” He turned to look at Vrishti, and in a more comforting tone said, “He is right, though, kiddo. You are far from prepared for his crazy ass.”

Author Bio:

Ophelia Bell loves a good bad-boy and especially strong women in her stories. Women who aren't apologetic about enjoying sex and bad boys who don't mind being with a woman who's in charge, at least on the surface, because pretty much anything goes in the bedroom.

Ophelia grew up on a rural farm in North Carolina and now lives in Los Angeles with her own tattooed bad-boy husband and four attention-whoring cats.

If you'd like to receive regular updates on Ophelia's publications, freebies, and discounts, please subscribe to her mailing list: http://opheliabell.com/subscribe/

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First Case Scenario by Annemarie DeClark blitz

First Case Scenario
Annemarie DeClark
(Harlee’s Whodunit in the Motor City #1)
Publication date: July 24th 2017
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

Most cops walk a beat. She dances to one.

Undercover and using moves she didn’t learn at the Detroit Police Academy, Harlee races to identify the cold case murderer who has struck again. While juggling a charming ex-fiancé, a friend with benefits, and a partner who is too darn handsome for his own good, Harlee begins socializing with the potential suspects outside of work… until the killer learns of her double identity.

This mystery has a perfect blend of humor, sexiness and suspense. It is the first novel in the Harlee’s Whodunit in the Motor City Series.

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EXCERPT:

Once upon a time, before becoming a big superhero detective, Liam Garrison was a hot street cop who pulled me over for speeding. All six feet and four inches of hulking, brawny Liam stood propped against my car while I quickly formulated my game plan.

“Harriet Lee O’Conner,” he read from my license, shaking his head. “Twenty-one years old.”

“My friends call me Harlee.”

“Do I look like your friend?” he asked, trying to sound tough.

“Do you want to be my friend?” I offered with a wink.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Because I’m hot and you want my phone number?” I couldn’t believe I actually said this to a police officer.

He laughed at me. “Get outta here,” he said, handing back my license and registration. “You’re too much for me to handle. Don’t let me catch you over the speed limit again.”

“Okie-dokie,” I promised.

The very next day he pulled me over in the very same spot going the very same speed. This time, he wanted more from me, including information on where I was always going in such a hurry. I told him I was late for work at The Full Moon Gentlemen’s Club where I worked as an exotic dancer. We made a deal. That night I gave him a lap dance in exchange for the two speeding tickets he never wrote.

Author Bio:

Born and raised in Detroit, Michigan, Annemarie is a former West Point cadet with a degree in Mathematics and Natural Science. She is a wife, a mother, and a proud daughter of a retired Detroit firefighter. When she isn’t busy reading or watching a whodunit mystery, she’s busy writing one.

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