Showing posts with label Book 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book 1. Show all posts

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Release Day Blitz Dark Embrace by Elle Boon



Dark Embrace
The Dark Legacy Series
Book 1
Elle Boon

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Fantasy

Publisher: Elle Boon

Date of Publication: February 8th, 2018

ISBN: 978-1-64204-509-3

Number of pages: 185
Word Count: 70K

Cover Artist: Valerie of Tibbs Design

Tagline: A DARK LEGACY where only the strong survive and those who are Goddess touched can complete the warriors who fight to protect the world from the creatures that go bump in the night.

Book Description:

Jennaveve, the Fey chosen by the Goddess to be the queen of her people for the past few millennium, is tired and wishes for a break, but hadn’t counted on being reduced to almost mortal thanks to a dark stranger. They say you should be careful what you wish for. The last time she’d taken a break, her Fey had left their realm, resulting in shifters on Earth known as the Mystic and Iron Wolves and even more she was still searching for.

Damien and Lucas Cordell knew they’d share a Hearts Love when the time came. As the twin sons of the Vampire King who’d mated a shifter, they were the first of their kind. When they’d thought their mate was finally within their reach and was a shifter like their mother only to realize she wasn’t theirs, they’d almost lost their lives to the alpha of the Iron Wolves, Kellen Styles. Instead, the error led them to the being that was…the Fey Queen Jennaveve. Only she was even more elusive than the wind.

Time and patience was something Damien and Lucas had in spades, until the female they’d already laid claim to, even if she hadn’t accepted them yet, was taken by an enemy. Saving Jenna became their one and only focus. As time and realms slip between them, their fear for her had them forgetting about patience and made claiming Jenna as their Hearts Love, hoping she accepted their Dark Embrace.

Will the Cordell Twins be able to rescue Jenna from the evil who has taken her?

Will Jenna get her powers back? Who is the dark presence and how will they defeat a being who is strong enough to bring the Fey Queen down to her knees?



Excerpt Dark Embrace

“Hello again, Fey. You’re looking slightly ill. Are my…family not treating you well?” His eyes flashed from obsidian to red. Where her men had gorgeous eyes that she wanted to get lost in, this mans were cold and lifeless.
His words finally registered. “Your family?”
He raked his claws together, making them clack in a way Jenna was sure he did to scare his victims. Newsflash asshole, I’ve faced bigger, badder, uglier, and hopefully deadlier foes, she thought.
“I’d love for us to stay here and chat, but I fear the big guy is waking, and well, I’m not in the mood for a reunion just yet. By the way. Sorry, my pet. I don’t usually use females as pawns, but in this instance, it’s a must.” He flew across the room, eliminating the space separating them.
Jenna fell back against the bed, nearly falling on her ass. His quick reflexes kept her upright. “What the hell are you talking about?” She pressed her hand to his chest, trying to put space between them.
He shook his head. “You’ll find out in due time, my pet. Now, we must go before father-what-a-waste awakens.”
She knew the telltale signs of magic and could feel it as the man in front of her began to manipulate the fabrics of time and space. “Who are you?”
He flashed her a smile, white teeth with two canines much longer than the others prevalent. “My name is Khan, son of Zahidda. Bastard son of Damikan at your service.”
The door flew open, giving her hope she’d be saved. The sight of Damien and Lucas had her shoving harder against the rock-hard chest. “Let me go, asshole. I’m not your pawn.” It was like trying to move a mountain if you were a mere human. Goddess, she hated being so weak.
“Jenna, flash away,” Damien growled.
“Ah, but your female can’t. It seems I’m her cure, little brothers,” Khan taunted.
Lucas stepped forward. “Who are you and what do you want?”
Khan tilted his head to the side. “You have nothing I want. Tell your father I’ll be in touch. Oh, here,” he tossed a necklace onto the bed. “He’ll know who I am with that. If not, then you’re little plaything will become mine…until I tire of her.”
Blackness swirled around Jenna as she heard both Lucas and Damien roar her name. A sick feeling hit her square in the gut, one she knew all too well. Khan was playing a game with the Cordell’s. One only he knew the rules to, and he had zero compassion for anyone getting in his way unless he could use them for his own gain. Jenna just happened to be exactly what he needed in order to hit back at the man he felt deserved it. Shit, she so could use her Fey powers, or even her bestie Kellen right about now. Or even better, if she’d not have been so stubborn and mated with Lucas and Damien instead of waiting, then none of this would have happened. “Well, what if’s do nothing but make big girls cry over spilled milk,” she muttered to herself.
“What?” Khan asked as he opened the portal allowing light to filter in.
She blinked a few times. “Huh?”
“You mumbled something about girls crying and spilled milk.” He carried her over to a couch and set her down. His gentle touch and actions at war with his words to Damien and Lucas.
The light airy room reminded Jenna of a lake cabin, one that families would go to on vacation. “Oh, um, nothing. I talk to myself sometimes.”
Khan shrugged his shoulders. “Make yourself comfy, you’ll be here for a spell or two.” He winked.
A growl rumbled in her throat. “Hahaha, very funny.”
He was next to her in a blink. “No, I’m not funny at all. What I am is deadly. You will do best to remember that.” He raised his nails, the longer lengths looking ominous now, reminding her of the night he’d cut her cheek.
“You did something to me when you sliced my cheek open.” If he was going to kill her, she’d at least know the hows and whys.


About the Author:

Elle Boon lives in Middle-Merica as she likes to say…with her husband, two kids, and a black lab who is more like a small pony. She’d never planned to be a writer, but when life threw her a curve, she swerved with it, since she’s athletically challenged. She’s known for saying “Bless Your Heart” and dropping lots of F-bombs, but she loves where this new journey has taken her.

She writes what she loves to read, and that is romance, whether it’s erotic, Navy SEALs, or paranormal, as long as there is a happily ever after. Her biggest hope is that after readers have read one of her stories, they fall in love with her characters as much as she did. She loves creating new worlds, and has more stories just waiting to be written. Elle believes in happily ever afters, and can guarantee you will always get one with her stories.













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Monday, February 27, 2017

Bound Souls Novel Playlist with ND Jones





Love has never been more at the heart of my novels than it is in Bound Souls. What does it mean to be in love with your spouse, your soulmate? And does that confessed bond of love truly end with till death do us part? Or maybe, just maybe, there is love and life beyond the known, beyond death, beyond time.

What happens when the other half of your soul moves on, leaving you behind, heart in tatters and questioning your future without your beloved? Love, soul-deep and life-changing, won’t allow you to forget.

Forget no, but can you love again? Are you willing to risk your heart for a second chance at love? Is there another, someone whose patient spirit will draw you out of mourning and into the bright light of a new day, a new love? Will this all get better in time?


Ah, you thought this to be the end. But their love is eternal. Bound souls, remember?


Bound Souls is a science fiction romance unlike any other, a Gordian knot of purpose, faith, and truth. “The bonds in this book between husband and wife, friends, lovers, and family made this book worth reading…” Amazon Customer


To understand the love and romance of Bound Souls, listen to the novel playlist and get lost in the musical world of Lela and Zion.




Bound Souls
Forever Yours
Book 1
N.D. Jones

Genre: Science Fiction Romance

Publisher: Kuumba Publishing

ISBN: 978-0-9975293-5-7
ASIN: 978-0-9975293-6-4

Number of pages: 292

Cover Artist: Wycked Ink

Book Description:

A supernatural love triangle that tests the bounds of science, truth, and faith.
Regent Lela of Asiya is the most powerful person on her planet but she is powerless to save the life of her beloved soulmate—Zion Grace. For thirty years they lived as husband and wife, but Zion’s time is at an end. Lela must go on without him.

“There will never be anyone else for me.”

Despite having died, nothing can keep Zion from his soulmate. He’s back but not as the man he once was. Zion must help Lela move on with her life, lest he lose her forever. But how can Zion convince Lela to accept the love and affections of another man when he still wants her for himself?

"I love you, Lela. My heart is forever yours.”

Lela and Zion are bound souls, destined to live eternity together. For these lovers, death is not an end, but a fateful beginning.

This novel includes “The Garden,” a bonus short story.

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Excerpt:

It was true, Zion had only three more years left on his thirty-year life extension. He was tired and felt even more so as the days, weeks, months and years crept by. Zion spared a sidelong glance at his wife, whose head was down, eyes closed and hand still fiercely gripping his own. She wasn't ready for the ride to end either, yet they both knew it was slowing, preparing to grind to its final halt and he would have to disembark, leaving her behind.

This thing with Ammon had eaten away at Zion for the last several months. Yet Ammon was simply an outlet for his own anger, fear, and depression. He was growing older, his hair thinner and grayer, and his stomach… well, let's just say he'd had to use the services of a good seamstress over the years. Yet Lela was still as beautiful and fit as when they'd first met.

Zion didn't begrudge Lela her slow aging or fine, alluring features. In fact, he loved that about her. What did bother him was that other men could see what he saw. Everything about Lela exuded intelligence, grace, dignity, strength, and beauty. Zion learned a long time ago, she could never see herself the way others did, especially men.

While Zion rarely entertained jealous thoughts before or cared much when he caught a male giving Lela an approving look, now he saw nothing but. Under the circumstances, the little signs of masculine appreciation for his beautiful wife enraged him.

"I'm sorry," Zion spoke into the quiet breach, lifting Lela’s chin with his bruised hand.

Tears flooded her eyes. Even wet, they were still the most stunning eyes he’d ever seen. Picasso marble Zion thought the first time she’d looked at him—a combination of black, brown, gray, and white. Back then, they’d sparkled with intelligence and curiosity, now they glistened with pain. Lela wasn't ready for this conversation. How could she be?

"No, it's me who should apologize. I thought you were paranoid, seeing things that didn't exist."

"I acted like a jackass, a Neanderthal, damn near dragging you out of the banquet room before the function was over. Hell, I might as well as hoisted you over my shoulder and beat my chest like a caveman."

He rubbed his thumb across her right cheek, then lips. "You're an incredible woman, Lela." Zion paused, nearly biting his tongue on his next words. The ones his selfish heart screamed at him to not utter. "You'll live for a long time, probably another four or five decades. I only have three years left. For an Asiyan, you'll be in your prime when I pass on.” His voice cracked when the held tears dropped from his wife’s eyes. She knew where he was going with this, Zion realized.

"You'll have to go on without me, and I don't want you to spend the next fifty years by yourself."

"I won't be by myself. I'll have Xavier." Lela pushed off the bed and moved away from him. She walked to the window, refusing to acknowledge the true meaning of his words.

Zion followed, watching her stern but sad image in the window. Needing to touch and reassure her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Lela to him.
"The thought of another man being this close to you," Zion whispered, stirring tendrils of her long hair, "makes me want to commit murder. When I heard Ammon offering for you, it took all of my self-control to not take a laser gun to him. The only thing I kept thinking was that he couldn't have you. That you're mine and mine alone."

"Is that why you've been so angry these past few months?" She turned in his arms, then rested her head against his resilient shoulder.

"Yes and something else."

"What else?"

Zion lifted her chin, compelling her to meet his eyes.

"I didn't want to acknowledge how selfish I was being," he said, leaning down and placing a warm, soft kiss on her lips. "I want you to be happy in those four or five decades you have left, Lela, but I don't want you to find happiness in the arms of another man."
"I have no desire to mate with anyone else, or to take a lover," she reassured, initiating another kiss, a desperate embrace full of a wife's integrity and denial. "I can't imagine being with anyone other than you. I love you, Zion. I could never love another."

He knew she spoke the truth. He believed her, but she didn't understand. Zion did. He'd experienced the loss of a spouse.

"When Iman died, a part of me died with her. Like you, I thought there would never be anyone else for me. And that was true for a long time—”

Lela shook her head in protest, not allowing Zion to continue. "Don't." A heartbreaking plea. "Don't say such things. There will never be anyone else for me."

Zion saw the near panic in her upturned face, her Picasso marble eyes glowing with resolution and despair.

"It's not the same. It just isn't."

It was exactly the same. Yes, what he felt for Iman was different from the love he had for Lela. But it was love all the same. Loving Lela didn't mean Iman ceased to occupy a special place in his heart and mind. A small, warm piece of her and their life together would always be a part of him. As he would always be a part of Lela, but she couldn't see it, not now. But someday. Zion didn't want to think about that and clearly, neither did his wife.






About the Author:

N. D. Jones lives in Maryland with her husband and two children. She is the founder of Kuumba Publishing, an art, audiobook, eBook, and paperback company. Kuumba Publishing is a forum for creativity, with a special commitment to promoting and encouraging creative works of authors and artists of African descent.

A desire to see more novels with positive, sexy, and three-dimensional African American characters as soul mates, friends, and lovers, inspired the author to take on the challenge of penning such romantic reads. She is the author of two paranormal romance series: Winged Warriors and Death and Destiny. N.D. likes to read historical and paranormal romance novels, as well as comics and manga.







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Friday, August 19, 2016

Get to know Kezia King: Character Profile from Dark Sleepers by Kate Sermon




Kezia King
Age: 14
Style: Emo, hippy, wears all her clothes like she just doesn’t care what she looks like. She has long blonde messy hair, and prefers wearing wellies or being barefoot most of the time.
Home: Barrowcombe, Dartmoor, UK. She lives with her mum, and until recently her dad in a small idyllic cottage isolated and a mile from the village. The house has been in her family for at least 100 years. She is an only child and is homeschooled.
Friends: Just the one: Ben. A loner as well, he lives in the village but is away most of the time at boarding school. He’s very good looking but incredibly insecure. His facade of bravado wears thin around Kezia.
Mum: an reclusive artist.
Dad: a writer.
Personality: Kind beyond anything else. A classic empath, she soaks up everyone’s feelings and makes them her own. She’s naturally introverted and shy but her love of people brings her out of herself. Her desire to help others is her most enduring personality trait, and is the vehicle that takes her on her adventure.
Music: She’ll listen to anything really through spotify. But her most played playlists are those that feature her dad’s favourites. Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Simon and Garfunkel.
Ambition: She harbours a secret ambition, secret because she has told no one, that she might end up a writer like her dad one day.
What she doesn’t know about herself: She has no idea that she has healing capabilities. There are more things but if I told you if would spoil your reading of Dark Sleepers and the sequels.
Happy Reading!



Dark Sleepers
Dark Flows the River Trilogy
Book 1
Kate Sermon

Genre: Young Adult Magical Realism Paranormal

Word count: 71,000

About the Book:

“You are astral travellers now. Able to project your spirit out of your body at will and enter the realms. You are not the only ones. Some people come here in their dreams without even knowing it. Some purposefully decide to travel here to find answers to questions they can’t find on earth... And some pass over... Die.”

Kezia's world implodes after her dad dies. She can't cope any more, and then she discovers the ability to leave her body. She drags her best friend, Ben, with her into other worlds to find her dad, but what she finds along the way, she could never be prepared for...


"Kate Sermon's writing is truly sublime. She creates characters to care for; whether it is dealing with friendship in our own world or grief in the astral planes, Kezia and Ben remain real people with hopes and flaws. Dark Sleepers is a startlingly imaginative debut."  ~ Dan Metcalf, Children's Author



Excerpt:

Kezia was struggling even more. The memories that threatened to overwhelm her had waned, dispersing like vapour from a boiling kettle. But they had been replaced by a fear that she guessed was not her own, even if it was hard to tell for sure.

She lay down on the dirty sand and closed her eyes. It was an instinctive action and at once she knew that it was a good one. She breathed, as her mum had taught her when she was stressed or worried. She could hear very clearly her mum’s soothing voice say “Darling, just breathe. That’s all you need to do.”

It helped. Her heart rate slowed and a sense of herself began to emerge from the jumble inside her. As she concentrated on her breathing, she began to hear a tiny whispering sound like mice behind skirting boards. It came from deep inside her head. And it definitely wasn’t her own thoughts. It must be the girl’s.

Then it occurred to her – maybe she could talk to this child. Maybe find out something that could help. Just like the day her dad died, she found that words weren’t needed. Her thoughts traced patterns of light through the blackness.

“Who are you?” She asked.

Almost immediately she got a reply. A quivering voice, barely audible, said: “I don’t know. I’m… I’m scared.” It sounded desperate.

“Please don’t worry. I’ve been to this place before, it’s not so bad. I can help you.” She hoped this was true. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t remember… wait, I think it may be Rose. Can you really help me?” The voice brightened. “But he was chasing me. I needed to get away. It all happened too fast.”

“I’m sorry Rose. I don’t understand.”


Confused for a moment… but then a light bulb pinged on. It drenched all the confusion in bright, white light. She suddenly realised she knew what was going on – what this place was and why the children were here.

About the Author:

Kate lives with her family and other animals in Devon halfway between Dartmoor and the sea.

She's done a bit of journalism; writes a bit of poetry; has published some short stories, teaches creative writing, and is currently ensconced in a MA Creative Writing. Alongside, she's writing the second book in the series.

As a teenager Kate traipsed the moor imagining herself in some version of Wuthering Heights. Nothing much has changed.












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Monday, July 18, 2016

Switching Genres with Lincoln Cole



I’ve never liked being stuck in a single genre, either as a reader or as a writer. There are huge benefits to it because it helps to simplify the story and match the expectations of readers browsing a specific category. Dozens of professional writers who have made fortunes from Amazon proclaim the benefits of writing to market and giving the audience exactly the book they expect.

That’s fine, and I think it’s hugely beneficial for a writer’s career to be able to churn out works that fit a specific genre and fulfill expectations if that is what they are trying to do. But, for most authors, writing to get rich isn’t really the end goal. We write because we enjoy it or we feel that there is a story we want to tell.

Sometimes that story doesn’t fit neatly into a category with a nice bow on it, but that’s okay because life doesn’t work that way either. I like to blend genres and put things together that people aren’t expecting. Tropes and clichés exist because they are comfortable, and I think there is a happy medium between adding something new to a genre or simply repeating it because it’s something people already understand.
It all depends on what the end goal is for the author and his fans. Major publishers maintain editing control over an author’s career and will not allow them to deviate from their ‘lane’ but that same control isn’t put upon a self-published or indie author. For Indies we have the power to do anything we want, which gives complete freedom but also comes with inherent risks.

For me, I like to branch out and try new things. If I’m inspired to tell a story, then I’ll do my best to tell it even if it is nothing like what came before. There are stories and series I prefer to write, but I’m willing to try anything at least once. If you’re an aspiring author, then I recommend you decide for yourself what sort of career you want to have, and then experiment until you’re having fun with it. If writing isn’t fun, then why bother?


Raven’s Peak
World on Fire
Book 1
Lincoln Cole

Genre: Horror/Paranormal Thriller

Date of Publication: 7/4/16

ISBN: 9780997225976

Number of pages: 280
Word Count: 76,000

Cover Artist: MN Arzu

Book Description:

A quiet little mountain town is hiding a big problem. When the townsfolk of Raven's Peak start acting crazy, Abigail Dressler is called upon to find out what is happening. She uncovers a demonic threat unlike any she's ever faced and finds herself in a fight just to stay alive.

She rescues Haatim Arison from a terrifying fate and discovers that he has a family legacy in the supernatural that he knows nothing about. Now she's forced to protect him, which is easy, and also trust him if she wants to save the townsfolk of Raven's Peak. Trust, however, is considerably more difficult for someone who grew up living on the knife's edge of danger.

Can they discover the cause of the town's insanity and put a stop to it before it is too late?

Excerpt:
“Reverend, you have a visitor.”
He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with the pain. When agony first turned to pleasure, and then to joy. Of course, it hadn’t always been like this. He remembered screaming all those years ago when first they put him in this cell; those memories were vague, though, like reflections in a dusty mirror.
“Open D4.”
A buzz as the door slid open, inconsequential. The aching need was what drove him in this moment, and nothing else mattered. It was a primal desire: a longing for the tingly rush of adrenaline each time the lash licked his flesh. The blood dripping down his parched skin fulfilled him like biting into a juicy strawberry on a warm summer’s day. 
“Some woman. Says she needs to speak with you immediately. She says her name is Frieda.”
A pause, the lash hovering in the air like a poised snake. The Reverend remembered that name, found it dancing in the recesses of his mind. He tried to pull himself back from the ritual, back to reality, but it was an uphill slog through knee-deep mud to reclaim those memories.
It was always difficult to focus when he was in the midst of his cleansing. All he managed to cling to was the name. Frieda. It was the name of an angel, he knew. . . or perhaps a devil.
One and the same when all was said and done.
She belonged to a past life, only the whispers of which he could recall. The ritual reclaimed him, embraced him with its fiery need. His memories were nothing compared to the whip in his hand, its nine tails gracing his flesh.
The lash struck down on his left shoulder blade, scattering droplets of blood against the wall behind him. Those droplets would stain the granite for months, he knew, before finally fading away. He clenched his teeth in a feral grin as the whip landed with a sickening, wet slapping sound.
“Jesus,” a new voice whispered from the doorway. “Does he always do that?”
“Every morning.”
“You’ll cuff him?”
“Why? Are you scared?”
The Reverend raised the lash into the air, poised for another strike.
“Just…man, you said he was crazy…but this…”
The lash came down, lapping at his back and the tender muscles hidden there. He let out a groan of mixed agony and pleasure.
These men were meaningless, their voices only echoes amid the rest, an endless drone. He wanted them to leave him alone with his ritual. They weren’t worth his time.
“I think we can spare the handcuffs this time; the last guy who tried spent a month in the hospital.”
“Regulation says we have to.”
“Then you do it.”
The guards fell silent. The cat-o’-nine-tails, his friend, his love, became the only sound in the roughhewn cell, echoing off the granite walls. He took a rasping breath, blew it out, and cracked the lash again. More blood. More agony. More pleasure.
“I don’t think we need to cuff him,” the second guard decided.
“Good idea. Besides, the Reverend isn’t going to cause us any trouble. He only hurts himself. Right, Reverend?”
The air tasted of copper, sickly sweet. He wished he could see his back and the scars, but there were no mirrors in his cell. They removed the only one he had when he broke shards off to slice into his arms and legs. They were afraid he would kill himself.
How ironic was that?
“Right, Reverend?”
Mirrors were dangerous things, he remembered from that past life. They called the other side, the darker side. An imperfect reflection stared back, threatening to steal pieces of the soul away forever.
“Reverend? Can you hear me?”
The guard reached out to tap the Reverend on the shoulder. Just a tap, no danger at all, but his hand never even came close. Honed reflexes reacted before anyone could possibly understand what was happening.
Suddenly the Reverend was standing. He hovered above the guard who was down on his knees. The man let out a sharp cry, his left shoulder twisted up at an uncomfortable angle by the Reverend’s iron grip.
The lash hung in the air, ready to strike at its new prey.
The Reverend looked curiously at the man, seeing him for the first time. He recognized him as one of the first guardsmen he’d ever spoken with when placed in this cell. A nice European chap with a wife and two young children. A little overweight and balding, but well-intentioned.
Most of him didn’t want to hurt this man, but there was a part—a hungry, needful part—that did. That part wanted to hurt this man in ways neither of them could even imagine. One twist would snap his arm. Two would shatter the bone; the sound as it snapped would be . . . 
A symphony rivaling Tchaikovsky.
The second guard—the younger one that smelled of fear—stumbled back, struggling to draw his gun.
“No! No, don’t!”
That from the first, on his knees as if praying. The Reverend wondered if he prayed at night with his family before heading to bed. Doubtless, he prayed that he would make it home safely from work and that one of the inmates wouldn’t rip his throat out or gouge out his eyes. Right now, he was waving his free hand at his partner to get his attention, to stop him.
The younger guard finally worked the gun free and pointed it at the Reverend. His hands were shaking as he said, “Let him go!”
“Don’t shoot, Ed!”
“Let him go!”
The older guard, pleading this time: “Don’t piss him off!”





 About the Author:

Lincoln Cole is a Columbus-based author who enjoys traveling and has visited many different parts of the world, including Australia and Cambodia, but always returns home to his pugamonster and wife. His love for writing was kindled at an early age through the works of Isaac Asimov and Stephen King and he enjoys telling stories to anyone who will listen.









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