Tuesday, November 28, 2017

The Lady and Mr. Jones by Alyssa Alexander

A Spy in the Ton series, Book 4

by Alyssa Alexander
Genre: Historical Romantic Suspense

She can never be his…

Born in the rookeries, the hard life is something Jones is all too familiar with. Saved as a young boy, he was trained to be a spy, one of the best--elite, in fact. He now spends his days serving His Majesty in espionage, hunting rogue spies. His latest assignment, though, has him tracking a fellow spy…

Cat Ashdown is a baroness. Nothing is more important than protecting five hundred years of heritage. She knows every detail of every estate that commands the largest income in Britain— yet her father placed her inheritance in trust to her uncle who is forcing her to marry a man she has no desire for. The baroness’s battle against law and convention leads her to Jones and results that are surprising … and possibly unwanted.

“Are we finished under the desk? I would like to stand, please. My legs are aching.”

There was a dry humor to her words, and he wondered if she were amused by their situation.

Certainly the two of them hiding beneath a desk, one after the other in order to avoid discovery, would be comical to witness.

“It’s probably safe.” Etiquette warred with protection in his mind, as he debated allowing her to leave the cubbyhole in advance as a lady should, or leaving before to ensure her safety.

She did not wait for his direction. She solved the dilemma by shifting to her hands and knees amid the swish of linen.

“This is so odd,” the baroness muttered as she crawled from beneath the desk. Her nightshift caught beneath her knees and she wrestled to free the fabric. He was treated to the most delightful pulling and stretching of thin linen over her bottom. “It’s also embarrassing,” she finished.

“I’m finding the view enjoyable.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. It was the most ungentlemanly comment he could make. Surely she would see, with a single statement, that he was nothing but a boy from the streets.

“I beg your pardon?” On her hands and knees, the baroness turned to look over her shoulder at him. She narrowed her eyes, but did not move. That lovely bottom stayed in front of him. Taunting him.

“My apologies, my lady.”

She scooted out from beneath the desk, movements quick and sharp.

“My words were inexcusable.” He did not look anywhere but into her eyes as he crawled from beneath the desk, refusing to allow his gaze to stray to any other part of her anatomy. He hoped it would put her at ease and make him feel less like a clod.

“It was.” But she did not sound panicked or prudish, only drew in a long breath and let it out again. “You should not say such things.”

“No, my lady.” But time mattered, so he unfolded himself to his full standing height, leaving her sitting on the study floor and looking up at him. She hesitated, then began to struggle to her feet.

“Please, allow me.” He spoke softly, holding out a hand and hoping she would not be so disappointed by his lack of finesse as to refuse his offer of assistance.

She stared at his hand with an expression he could not read. He looked down, expecting to see something frightening or strange attached to him, but he saw only his hand, gloveless to ease his search. It was not smooth or elegant as a man of her station’s would be, but wide, with blunt fingers and calluses.

Still, she set her hand in his and let him assist her to stand. Soft and smooth skin moved against his hand with none of the roughness marking his own flesh.

He wondered if she could feel his base birth through his very skin.

AmazonB&NiTunes  KoboGoodreads

"He went looking for a traitor. He found a wife."

A thrilling, seductive adventure from award-winning author Alyssa Alexander…

After he is betrayed by one of his own, British spy Julian Travers, Earl of Langford, refuses to retire without a fight, vowing to find the traitor. But when the trail leads to his childhood home, Julian is forced to return to a place he swore he’d never see again, and meet a woman who may be his quarry—in more ways than one.

Though she may appear a poor young woman dependant on charity, Grace Hannah’s private life is far more interesting. By night, she finds friendship and freedom as a member of a smuggling ring. But when the handsome Julian arrives, she finds her fa├žade slipping, and she is soon compromised, as well as intrigued.

As she and Julian continue the hunt, Grace finds herself falling in love with the man behind the spy. Yet Julian’s past holds a dark secret. And when he must make a choice between love and espionage, that secret may tear them apart.

Revenge has never been so seductive. 

When her husband is killed at Waterloo, Lilias Fairchild takes up his cavalry sword and boldly storms the front, earning herself the nickname Angel of Vengeance. But there is another angel on the battlefield who is just as single-minded, and just as ruthless…

Alastair Whitmore, the Marquess of Angelstone, is a British spy. Code name: Angel. Still haunted by a first love felled by assassins, his mission draws him to Waterloo, where he is captivated by a beautiful and mysterious woman fighting amongst the men—a woman who becomes his most intoxicating memory of war.

Passion has never been so dangerous. 

Two years later, Lilias and Angelstone lock eyes in a crowded ballroom and the memory returns in an exhilarating rush. The history they share, and hide from the world, is as impossible to ignore as the heat of their attraction. But it’s that very connection that spells doom for their scandalous affair. When someone from the shadows of their past proves a dire threat to their lives, passion might not be enough to save them.

She was the only code he couldn't break...

Vivienne La Fleur is one of London’s most sought after opera dancers and one of England’s best weapons: the spy known as the Flower. When a French agent pressures her to change allegiance by abducting her sister, Vivienne is forced to seek the help of the only man in London who doesn’t want her.

Maximilian Westwood, retired code breaker, doesn't like surprises or mysteries and the Flower is both. When she sneaks into his study in the middle of the night with a coded message, he’s ready to push her out whatever window she arrived through. Except Maximilian is unable to turn away a woman in trouble. Determined to rescue Vivienne’s sister, they engage in a game of cat and mouse with French spies that requires all of Vivienne’s training and Maximilian’s abilities. Bound together by secrecy, they discover there is more between them than politics and hidden codes, but love has no place among the secrets of espionage...

Despite being a native Michigander, Alyssa Alexander is pretty certain she belongs somewhere sunny. And tropical. Where drinks are served with little paper umbrellas. But until she moves to those white sandy beaches, she survives the cold Michigan winters by penning romance novels that always include a bit of adventure. She lives with her own set of heroes, aka an ever-patient husband who doesn’t mind using a laundry basket for a closet, and a small boy who wears a knight in a shining armor costume for such tasks as scrubbing potatoes.

Saturday, November 25, 2017

Frozen Heart by Ella Medler

Calidora series, the prequel

by Ella Medler

Genre: Time-Travel Fantasy

Quiet and listless, the glass heart sat hidden under layers of unremarkable clutter, its secret safe. The human hands had touched it often through the strata of debris, but until now, had never uncovered it fully.

At last, the yellow duster cut through the grime, and the heart began to shift. It would most likely have frozen over again, up on its high shelf, if the cat’s careless pouncing hadn’t made if fall into a box full of tinsel.

This is how the history of time and place began to change — with the story of the frozen heart.

“I would love to travel in time with you, Mal.”

His answering grin almost turned her knees to jelly, he was that handsome.

“First, you must make sure you don’t lose track of me. I can’t even imagine the trouble you’d get into without me there to guide you.”

Khira hooked the ribbon over her head. If she let go, the glass heart would dangle right over hers, she realized. “Is this okay?” she asked. Mal nodded. “Wait! Do I need anything? Boots? A coat? Cash?”

Mal smiled again. “It won’t matter. I can make you fit in anywhere.” He touched his hand to the wall of glass. “Give me your hand.”

Khira placed the tips of her fingers over his hand. A helix of light burst forth from the heart. It grew and pulsed around her until it became a vortex of colors, twisting and winding around each other like ribbons in a tornado, with her at the center of it all.

She clasped the heart closer to her chest as she felt her body lifting into the air. Just before she started spinning, her window crashed open and a shaggy, furry shape, somewhat reminiscent of Dodo the cat, leapt into the funnel and landed on her shoulder. Khira screamed when the creature’s claws sank into the skin on her back, but she didn’t dare let go of the heart in her hands. The whirlpool of color and motion intensified, and then exploded in a shower of stars.

SHATTERED HEART is another Calidora story. This book is only available in The Bells of Winter boxset.


The frozen heart with its vicious curse slices its way through time to a plague-hit London. Dodo, guardian of Calidora, ruler of time, has a momentous decision to make—save himself or sacrifice his life to save humanity.

The Bells are ringing for the turn of the year, so grab a hot toddy, a warm blanket, and this collection of beautiful stories to warm up your heart and soul. These are all clean, family-friendly, inspiring reads in many genres, great for entertaining anyone from lovers of fantasy to the more serious mystery reader.

Add this collection to your kindle now. And while you're at it, gift it to grandma, too.

AmazonAmazon Int'liTunesKoboB&NGoodreads

Ella Medler is a U.K. author and editor. She writes fiction in many genres in a seemingly vain attempt to slow down her overactive brain enough to write non-fiction on subjects she knows a thing or two about. She also does not believe in the starchy use of English and ignores the type of rule that doesn’t allow for a sentence to be finished in a preposition. Her books are action-driven, and well-developed characters are her forte. Loves: freedom. Hates: her inner censor.

Goodreads ✯ Twitter ✯ Facebook ✯ Amazon ✯ Website

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

The House That Adelia Built by Mya O'Malley

by Mya O'Malley

Genre: Paranormal Romantic Thriller

It all started with a woman and a lighthouse. The House that Adelia Built spins a tale full of love, lies, and betrayal at the hands of a man Adelia calls Augustus—her own husband.

In the late 1800s, Augustus finds a job as lighthouse keeper on a beautiful, but isolated island. He can’t wait to bring his new bride home to the lighthouse, set on majestic bluffs, which have laid claim to many shipwrecks.

Augustus soon suffers from the effects of self-induced isolation, as Adelia watches him slowly lose his grip on reality until he turns mad, bringing forth dire consequences.

Meet Hope, a modern day quiet, quirky young woman with a case of agoraphobia—or so it would seem. She feels an inexplicable pull toward the lighthouse and the bluffs beyond. Hope struggles with her internal battle and seeks to find the truth about her unsettling, recurring nightmares. Maybe then she can discover why she has always felt so alone and unusual.

Enter Clooney, a handsome, unassuming stranger who soon becomes so much more to Hope. The very woman who has guarded her heart in the past will soon find herself wrapped in a web of denial, leading to a heart-wrenching reality.

For every truth she exposes, more heartache is found. Hope must come face-to-face with her worst fears as she uncovers the mystery surrounding her spellbinding connection to the lighthouse.


It was an evening like any other, yet it was to be a night that she would never forget—for it was a crucial piece of the puzzle that would ignite the course of Adelia’s destiny.

Sharp, crisp wind bit at every inch of her exposed skin. Almost completely winded, Adelia spun her head once more, just to be sure she hadn’t been followed here to the towering cliffs. A darkened sky matched her desperate, dismal mood.

Augustus never disappointed in stealing any smidgen of brightness from her mind, but tonight he had pushed, until, she, too, had crossed the thin line over to the brink of madness.

Yes, her husband was going mad.


Insane with rage, jealously, control, apparently sparked by boredom and gin. Adelia couldn’t imagine a worse possible combination. One could activate a fire sure to burn through and destroy any soul with those caustic ingredients.

Whenever Augustus would finally place his head on the pillow beside her, Adelia would wait out the thickness, the raw stench of alcohol and bitterness, until she could finally allow herself to breathe once Augustus began to snore. It was only then that her hands would grip the quilt which rested upon her body. Then she would cautiously count to fifty. Fifty usually did the trick, but at times she had added a few seconds more, just to be sure.

Tonight, she had run for her life before his head had hit the pillow.

Now safely outside, her fists unclenched and her breathing slowed until she could release the soft wail that fought to escape. As if she couldn’t control it, her neck craned to spy behind her once more. Augustus had been at the gin for hours today, starting much earlier than ever before; she could only hope he wouldn’t give chase, that he would pass out cold.

Recently, she had fooled herself into thinking that if only she could try hard enough, perhaps they could get back to that sunny place where they had first fallen deeply for one another.

Was there such a spell? She frowned, knowing such a spell ceased to exist. Her trick no longer worked; she couldn’t fool herself into thinking everything would be okay.

Not now.

Not anymore.

Months of self-reflection had consumed Adelia. She could hardly think of anything else. At first, she wondered if their downfall could have possibly been partly her own fault—Adelia may have played a hand at her heart’s demise. But, no, she had yet to find one shred of proof that argued against the fact that Augustus had been the one who had changed. Oh, it had been ever so slightly at first. An offbeat comment here and there, a sideways look. But then, as surely as the dark tides shifted, it seemed that once they made the lighthouse on the cliffs their home for more than several months, the very beacon which served to steer ships to safety in these treacherous waters diminished her own brightness and replaced it with a gradual shift to darkness.

She clung to the small sliver of a chance that she could fix this. Yes, she could throw her shoulders back and help this stranger her husband had shifted into, before it was too late.

Surely some came back from the brink of madness, right? But then the horrifying image that haunted her dreams plagued her mind once more. She shut her eyes tight, pushing the vision out of her head.

Tonight her husband had sunk to a new low, even for him.

Before the hole proved too expansive to dig out of, she told herself she needed to act—now.

Was that a shadow lurking in the distance? Was it Devon, arriving early, or had Augustus found her?

Her heart leapt with fear. No, nobody was there. It must have been the wind or possibly her mind playing tricks, for once she focused her gaze on the spot, she could see nothing but the trees close behind her.

Adelia purposely slowed her breathing. She would need to put her plan in place quickly, but for that, she would need to speak with Devon. He should be here any minute.

But, there was the sound again. This time, she was sure she heard footsteps, and when she called out, nobody responded. Now she stood, hands clenched in tight fists, determined to face the unidentifiable figure approaching from beyond.

There was nowhere to go, of course. No choice but to face the unknown. Adelia turned her head, her vision lit by the full moon above. She judged the distance from the edge of the cliff. There was no place else to go but down.

Review of The House that Adelia Built
This is one of the most unique and strangest love stories I’ve ever read. The story bounces back and forth from the past and present.

It is definitely worth reading, but be warned, there is no true HEA at the end. The best that can be offered is hope.

All the same, I give it 5 stars for the vivid characters, the twists and turns, and the coming together of the past to life in 2017 so wrongs can be righted.


Mya O’Malley was born and raised in the suburbs of New York City, where she currently lives with her husband, daughter and step-daughters. The family also consists of a boxer named Destiny and a ragdoll cat named Colby. Mya earned an undergraduate degree in special education and a graduate degree in reading and literacy. She works as a special education teacher and enjoys making a difference in the lives of her students.

Mya’s passion is writing; she has been creating stories and poetry since she was a child. Mya spends her free time reading just about anything she can get her hands on. She is a romantic at heart and loves to create stories with unforgettable characters. Mya likes to travel; she has visited several Caribbean Islands, Mexico and Costa Rica. Mya is currently working on her eleventh novel.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

JM Maurer presents Curveball baby

by J.M. Maurer

Genre: A Contemporary New Adult Romance (with Baseball, Baby & Christmas themes)

Most of Addison’s days start the same. She walks to work, brushes off the townsfolks’ disapproval, and fixes any-and-all local catastrophes. But there’s not a single resident in Willow Run who doesn’t know that’s all about to change.

For MLB pitching phenom Ben Peterson, returning to Willow Run is like stepping into another world. Back in town, he’s poised to do more than merely get his head on straight. For the last six months, his thoughts have been centered around one thing—the beautiful small-town girl who taught him there’s more to life than hurling a baseball.

I laugh, feeling my body warming under the sun, and decide it’s time to slip off a layer of clothing. Waddling back to the boxes, I toss my jacket to the top of one of the columns and hear Rusty shoot me an order.

“Hey, while you’re back there, grab a dozen thins.”

I snatch up what I can and, since the noodles are fragile, take some extra precautions. Twisting back toward the table, I immediately heat up even further, my body threatening to melt into an unrecognizable puddle of liquid Addison all over the sidewalk.

Gasping, I halt mid-stride. Stunned by what I’m seeing, I let Mrs. Tinley’s noodles and the scholarship money they’d provide slip though my sweaty palms. I can’t help it. I’m pinned in my spot, captivated once again by a slate-blue stare that’s just as sultry as it is unforgettable.

Staring ahead, I hear a crunching noise and can only assume it’s from the multiple bags of Mrs. Tinley’s noodles. I imagine they’ve spilled into quite a large mess at my feet, but I’m too shocked by his presence to give the noodles another thought. Noodles? Who cares about noodles? I’ve now got nothing on my mind but the tall, blue-eyed Adonis standing before me.

So much so, I feel my heart pound hard against my chest. My mouth goes slack. And a sudden tingling under my lip balm is driving me nuts. It’s all I can do to refrain from leaning in and reacquainting my lips with his. But I know better than to do such a thing, and instead, stay in my spot, thinking, Ben, is that really you?

I don’t dare close my eyes. If I do, I fear when opening them I’ll realize he’s merely an illusion. But he’s not a mirage. My head’s just fine and my eyes aren’t playing tricks on my heart. I open my mouth to say hello, like I always do when I meet someone, but when his sly grin slides clean off his face, I bite my lower lip and swallow back my greeting.

With his gaze cast down, he takes a long moment, appearing to stare almost unseeingly at my midsection. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing.

I don’t know what he’s thinking. His expression is rather frozen. But judging by his furrowed brows, he’s most likely come to one major conclusion.

Curveball Baby is a Delight
Sometimes the carriage gets before the horse, and this one of those.

Addison (Addy for short) met a guy named Ben on a road trip. It was love at first sight. They made passionate love, then, when their week was over, they both went on with their lives. They didn’t even know each other’s last names.

Only now, she is pregnant, with no husband. Much of her small town looks down on her, but she holds her head up and continues on, pretending it doesn’t matter…but it does. 

When Ben finds Addison again, they both think a lot of things, but say little, so progress is slow.

I loved this story. It is well paced, endearing (there’s a whole town of people), and ends with a proper HEA, but a unique one as well.

I loved it. 5 stars!

J.M. Maurer started working as a registered nurse in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit where she cared for critically ill children, transported them from outlying hospitals, and even picked up overtime hours treating patients of all ages while inside a hyperbaric chamber. She loves to write about strong characters and their struggles in life.

When not writing, you can find her spending time with family and friends, exploring the outdoors, or attempting most any sport. She resides in Chicago with her husband and son. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.jmmaurer.com.

If you’d like to know about my new releases and special offers, you can sign up for my newsletter.

Amazon ✯ Website ✯ Facebook ✯ Goodreads ✯ Twitter

Monday, November 13, 2017

Liza interviews Georgia Lyn Hunter & her immortal Dagan

Liza: Georgia, glad to have you back to my blog. It’s been a while, which means I feel compelled to interrogate you a bit. Hope you don’t mind.

Georgia: Shoot. I’m ready!

Liza: My first question concerns the first words of your book:
From the scorching pits of Tartarus, a warrior emerges with a deadly need for more than vengeance…”
I searched Google Earth and I could not find the scorching pits of Tartarus. Where exactly is this place?

Georgia: Ah, of course you’re not going to find it ON Google Earth. It’s beneath, in a place humans fear—the Dark Realm/Dark World, Underworld, Netherworld, take your pick.

Liza: My next question is about timing. Why didn’t you release this BEFORE Halloween? Then people could read and realize they should NOT be wandering around at night! Especially NOT on Halloween!

Georgia: Why would I do that? I love scaring the hell—get it? Hell—out of people.

Liza: I stay locked in in my house…. Mostly because I refuse to give children unhealthy candy to eat and no one will take an apple as a Halloween treat anymore, given all the fabricated stories about razors in apples.  So, I put my car in the garage, turn off all the outdoor lights and make my house as dark as possible. And still hungry small gremlins pound on my door.
I’m pretty sure, some of them are real gremlins.

Georgia: You scaredy cat! Where’s the fun in that? Don’t you want to bump into all the things that go bump-in-the night? The real deal freely roams the night on Halloween.

Liza: No, I seriously do NOT want bump into demons, thank you anyway. Now, could you call in the scary big guy, Dagan.  By the way, that’s not a terribly frightening name.

Dagan: *Eyes narrows* Really? It’s Day-gun. Scared yet?

Liza: I’ve been reading up on you. Can you tell me why you are so thirsty? You do realize, that almost every house in America has running water, right?

Dagan: Water’s for the weak. I need something stronger. Your neck looks mighty tempting, little human.

Liza: Back off Day Boy. You do not want to mess with me. I’m an author, too you know. Now, back to the interrogation. Does being immortal mean you won’t die if someone lops off your head? Because I am tempted right now!

Dagan: *shrugs* That shit will kill anyone. But Others—supernatural scourge—once they cross my path are the ones usually left trying to sew their own heads back on—wait, there is no resurrection for evil scum once my sword lopes off their head off.

Liza: Just leave mine alone, so we can continue your interview. Shae Ion says you are sinfully sexy and totally impossible, and you abducted her declaring you were trying to keep her alive. You do know modern women can take care of themselves, right. Just today, I battled with my queen size mattress and won!

Dagan: That’s good to know. Explain to me, how would you—a human—take on a horde of vicious supernatural beings and come out of it alive? Shae may hate it, but she’s human, and she knows when she needs help.

Liza: Shae also said the first time you spoke to her, she smashed you in the nose. Is that true?

Dagan: *His hard demeanor cracks, a smile ghosts his mouths* Yes... That woman packs quite a punch. She’s…unforgettable.

Liza: Well, I best send you back to that place Google Earth can’t find so Georgia can share more about the book. I must say from my research on the matter, it’s going to be exciting!

Dagan: *Pushes to his feet and heads for the door, then pauses* Tartarus is NOT on Earth. Besides, I long vacated that hellhole…to elsewhere.

Liza: Wait—what? Then where do you live?

Dagan: You just declared this interview over. Goodbye Liza O’ Connor.

Author: Georgia Lyn Hunter
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Series: Fallen Guardians #3
Title: Guardian Unraveled

From the scorching pits of Tartarus, a warrior emerges with a deadly need for more than vengeance…

A loner, Dagan, lives with an inexorable thirst he’s kept hidden for eons, even from his fellow Guardians. Until he meets a beautiful, maddening human who awakens in him a hunger that shakes him to his very core, and threatens to shatter his tightly erected shields, exposing his dangerous secret. And wanting her is a path leading to destruction.

Driven to find her missing mother in a shadowy world, Shae Ion refuses to be sidetracked. When she becomes the target for a sinister force, a sinfully sexy and utterly impossible immortal abducts her, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep her safe.
Stuck in an isolated place with the reclusive Guardian who allows no one close, Shae struggles to control her burgeoning powers, and is unprepared for the tangled emotions he stirs in her. But passion has a way of obliterating barriers.

However, the road to happiness is strewn with treachery. Nothing is sacred or safe. When a ruthless old enemy resurfaces, and comes after Shae, they are drawn into a terrifying, supernatural battle. And not even Dagan, a lethal immortal warrior who’d lay down his life for her, can save her now…

AVAILABLE: Amazon | Nook | Kobo | iBook | Smash

Review of Guardian Unraveled,  
A Fallen Guardian Novel

This is a dark and complex story, thus, I wasn’t sure I was going to like it.

However, even during the darkness, there were well-placed moments of humor. That made all the difference in the world. These weren’t campy humor, but rather the annoying and stupid things that go on in regular life that you just have to laugh at.

This is a story of all sorts of ‘demons’ and ‘angels’ and a large variety of other creatures in a rather complex tale. Honestly, I couldn’t remember what half of them did, but I didn’t need to. For every battle, the author made it very clear who was good and who was bad, except for those she deliberately hid for surprises in the story.

Warning: the sex scenes are very explicit. They are not thrown it for simple titillation, rather they are a legitimate part of the story progression. Still, young people should not be reading this book.

I was a bit worried the ending might be a cliffhanger, but it wasn’t. In fact, by the time I reached the end of the story, I thought it one of the best books I’ve read this year.

from the opening chapter:

Dagan cut into another gloomy backstreet. Aaand found himself back in the alley where he’d started his patrol.

Farther up, more inebriated humans geared in their Halloween get-ups stumbled out of Club Nocte. The long line remained, partygoers braving the chill, waiting to get inside.

He scanned the place, but the vibe he’d been tracking had gone cold. He bit back a curse. Just great. Except for the demoniis he’d killed earlier, there was nothing that pricked at his senses.

He headed in the opposite direction, deeper into the alley, away from the noise, and staggered to a halt. A mouth-watering scent flooded his senses.

Blood. Fresh human blood.

The seductive aroma seeped through him, tightening his body and saturating his mind like a compulsion. His jaw clenched, his incisors throbbed.

He whipped around, scanning the alley. Pain stabbed his belly, shredding his gut. Hunger took hold. He fell against the wall, struggling against the temptation, eyes shut tight. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to plant his booted feet on the asphalt and not go after the faint ambrosia trail.

Sometimes, he regretted killing that first damn bird which had bound him to his deadly thirst, but he understood too he couldn’t have deviated from that fated path any more than he could stop breathing.

“Are you all right?” a husky voice asked.

She was tall for a mortal, yet the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. He could clearly make out her alabaster features in the gloomy alley, and the noticeable, bumpy Y-shaped scar running down her cheek. He didn’t care how good she looked, right then, all he could think about was just how delicious she’d taste…blood infused with strawberries and spice. Decadent.


He scanned for the source of the decadent aroma. There, on her scraped knuckles, he saw the smear of red. The predator side of him thinly leashed, he fought for control—battled not to sink his fangs into her carotid.

“Leave!” His eyes slit in warning. Damn do-gooder humans.

“Look, I’m just trying to—”

“I don’t need help,” he growled. The gentle rush of the blood in her veins tugged at his senses, tempting him to will her closer so her rich, warm plasma could slide down his throat. His incisors dropped. Shit. He held his breath, reached into her mind, and willed her gone…but hit a wall.

What the hell? He could compel anybody.

With his control fading fast, he leaped away from the wall and loomed over her. Bared his fangs. “Get the hell away from me if you want to keep breathing.”

Stormy gray-gold eyes widened. Then she stunned all hell outta him and glared right back. “Is that supposed to frighten me? A pair of fake fangs? Shouldn’t you be out there with all the other cretins scaring the innocents tonight instead of hiding in the shadows like some pleb?”

At the taunt, Dagan didn’t think, he hauled her to him, raking those “fake fangs” down her neck, bruising the skin a little, a hair’s breadth past her carotid.

The girl squeaked and slapped her palms on his chest. “What the hell?”

His arm banded around her waist, and he sucked on her fast-beating pulse, his saliva already healing the bruised skin. Unable to let her go just yet, he settled for running his tongue over her silky, warm flesh. She smelled of cinnamon and strawberries, a taste he’d long forgotten. A light brush of her psychic powers skipped over him.

She yanked free, surprising him with her agility, and drew back her fist. He saw the punch coming and let it, hoping it would clear the damn haze in his head. She nailed him straight in the face.

Fuuuck! Stars exploded in his skull, stunning him senseless with the power of her blow.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me like that!” Her slanted eyes glowered like a wildcat’s in the dark. Shaking her fingers, she stormed off, muttering in disgust. “What the hell was I thinking trying to help that barbarian? I should have just left.”

Dagan stood there, dazed, his blood strumming. What the hell was he thinking? He hadn’t lost control like that in millennia.

 About the Author:

I’ve been creating stories from the moment I could string two words together. No matter the tale, it always has romance woven through them. I’m a hopeless romantic.
When I’m not writing or plotting new books, I like to read, travel, paint, or troll flea markets where I usually buy things I might never actually use because they’re so pretty.
After working in a few jobs all art related, a chosen career as a fashion designer, then an art teacher, I finally found my passion six years ago: writing. There really is no other job I’d rather do.

Oh, and I hail from the beautiful country of South Africa, and currently live in the Middle East.

Author’s follow links: