Monday, November 30, 2015
Soul Stealer Cover Reveal
Author Lashell Collins
Genre: Paranormal/Shifter/Rock Star Romance
Publication Date: December 6, 2015
In a world where human-shifter relations are often volatile and riddled with unfair presumptions on both sides, Aleigha Daniels finds it difficult to trust. Fairytales are for little girls because in real life, men cheat. Something Aleigha knows all too well. There are no enchanted castles and no prince charmings who will sweep you off your feet. So when she's forced into interviewing the sexy, enigmatic, and eccentric shifter rock star, Morpheus Wolfe, at his creepy mansion out in the middle of nowhere, all Aleigha can see is the fear inside her own heart. And when circumstances trap her there, Aleigha begins a journey she never expected to take. What she doesn't know is that Morpheus has an agenda, and sometimes fairytales do come true.
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/ovh79bm
Kobo: Coming soon
“Ms. Daniels has arrived.” Butler announced her as though she were a guest at a royal dinner, and Aleigha felt on display.
The man at the mixing board turned in his seat and stood up, rising to an imposing height. He was almost as tall as Butler, but nearly triple the valet’s size in sheer muscle mass. Warm brown skin stretched taut over ripples of pecs and abs peeking out beneath the mesh t-shirt he wore, and the long thin braids flowed over his shoulders and down his back. His eyes, sharp and endless, pierced her with the skill of a predator and looked her over from head to toe before meeting her gaze.
“Ms. Daniels, I’m Morpheus Wolfe.”
Aleigha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes drifted up from the powerful leather-covered thighs, over his torso and up to the wickedly handsome face. None of the videos or concert footage had done him one bit of justice. This man wasn’t merely gorgeous; he oozed sex appeal from every pore of his body without even trying.
“They don’t call him sex on legs for nothing, that’s for sure.”
Her friend’s statement made so much sense to her now. Rock star Morpheus Wolfe was the sexiest beast alive.
He extended his hand to her, but Aleigha was lost for a moment, struck dumb by his very presence. He arched an eyebrow at her.
“Uh, yes. Hello. I’m Aleigha Daniels.” She fumbled over her greeting and finally placed her hand in his. The very instant their hands touched the electricity in the studio surged — lights and power flickered, causing the camera crew some distress. Aleigha felt unable to look away, and the slight smile that crossed his lips intrigued her.
“Looks like the storm is getting worse. We should get started.” He let go of her hand but never took his eyes off her.
“Yes, we should,” she echoed, her voice sounding breathy and far away.
Get a hold of yourself, Aleigha!
She heard the words inside her head, but it was difficult to listen when he was looking at her that way.
“So, uh … normally I would be attempting to put my interview subject at ease right now by explaining how things will go, but since we’re on your turf with your camera crew, I’m a little out of my element, I’m afraid.”
He gave another ghost of a smile as he watched her.
“Would you like me to attempt to put you at ease, Ms. Daniels?”
Aleigha blushed, turning away to hide the faint redness of her cheeks, and looked around at the crew. Was it the deep, honey-coated voice or the intense way he stared at her that made her belly quiver?
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Lashell Collins is an American author of romantic suspense, paranormal romance and rockstar romance. She walks to the beat of her own drum, but that’s okay ’cause she’s got a pretty good sense of rhythm. Basically, she’s a geeky, quirky, laid-back, rocker-loving kinda girl who’s married to a retired cop, motorcycle-riding, bad-boy alpha all her own, and she likes to write about sexy police officers, werewolves and rockstars, or some inventive combination of the three! When she’s not busy tapping away on her laptop and living vicariously through her characters, she can usually be found watching Grimm, rocking out to Slash ft. Myles Kennedy & the Conspirators, stuffing her face full of Chinese food, or riding on the back of her husband’s Harley-Davidson. Between her book characters and the ones she knows in real life, her plate stays pretty full. But she loves to hear from readers, so give her a shout sometime!
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Author: S.E. Hall
Series: The Evolve Series
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: November 24
Enter to win a Signed Paperback of ENDURE or a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
Thursday, November 26, 2015
King and Pup are back in this Limited Edition Box Set
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1MAskkt
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1MPoVfJ
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/1R4LZMw
Paperback Amazon: http://amzn.to/1YsctJZ
King: Homeless. Hungry. Desperate. Doe has no memories of who she is or where she comes from. A notorious career criminal just released from prison, King is someone you don’t want to cross unless you’re prepared to pay him back in blood, sweat, sex or a combination of all three. King’s future hangs in the balance. Doe’s is written in her past. When they come crashing together, they will have to learn that sometimes in order to hold on, you have to first let go. Tyrant: I. Remember. Everything. But the relief I thought I would feel never comes, and I’m more afraid now than I was the morning I woke up handcuffed in King’s bed. Because with the truth comes dark secrets I was never meant to know. I will put the lives of those I love most at risk if I let on that my memory has returned, or if I seek help from the heavily tattooed felon who owns me body and soul. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist the magnetic pull toward King that grows stronger every day. He’s already saved me in more ways than one. Now it’s my turn to do whatever it takes to save him. Even if that means marrying someone else…
Tattooing Doe was the single most erotic moment of my life. Marking her perfect, pale skin with a tattoo I'd designed for her made me so fucking hard I had to adjust myself every thirty seconds in order to concentrate on my work.
When I was done, I handed her the hand mirror, and she walked over to the full-sized mirror that hung on the back of the door, like she'd seen dozens of my other clients do before. When she held up the hand mirror, she gasped.
"What?" I asked in a panic, hoping she didn't already see what I'd hidden in the tattoo. I was an asshole for putting it there. I was an asshole for tattooing her in the first place.
I was just an asshole.
But I couldn't help myself. My name needed to be on her. It wasn’t enough just to call her mine. I needed to mark her as well. So hidden in the vine work under the quote I found that I thought was perfect for her, was my name.
KING was woven into the design. In order to see it you had to tilt your head or otherwise you wouldn't notice it. But it was there.
I would tell her eventually of course, but I wanted it to be my secret for a while. She'd stopped being my possession a while ago, a lot longer before I cared to admit, but I still felt the need to mark her as mine.
I still liked the idea of owning her.
Only now, she owned me, too.
She didn't notice the name. Tears filled her eyes. She stood there staring at the hand mirror in just her panties. Little cheeky ones where her ass hung out of the bottoms. Her tits were only inches from my face. Her tears of happiness made my dick twitch. Although her sad tears evoked the same response.
My dick wasn't partial to which kind of tears he liked.
I took the mirror from her hand and lifted her up onto the counter. "You like it?" I asked, pushing her panties down her legs.
"I love it," she panted, wrapping her legs around me, drawing me close. Her wetness soaking my boxers. I pushed them down with one hand. I'd been hard for three hours, the entire time I’d been working on her, and couldn't wait any longer. I pushed inside her tight, wet heat.
We both moaned at the contact.
"You love it?" I asked, needing to hear her say it again.
"Yes, I love it!" she said as I thrust up into her, hard. "I love it. So much. I love you."
I froze when I heard the words, and when I did, her eyes flung open.
"I didn't mean—"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Oh my god, I have that word vomit thing. I’m sorry. Shit, I just meant that—"
"Shut the fuck up!" I demanded, thrusting hard to get her attention. She closed her eyes, and her head fell back. "That's fucking better. Now, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while I fuck you."
"Okay," she whispered, breathless.
"Shut up," I said again, and she closed her mouth. "Shut up so I can fuck you…and show you how much I love you."
She nodded and although her eyes stayed shut, a tear rolled down her cheek. I sucked it off her chin before it could fall to the floor.
Then, I fucked her.
I showed her how much I loved her until I couldn't tell where I started and she began. Until all that was in that room was me and her and the thing between us that kept pulling us together like magnets. Until we were lost in sensations and orgasms.
And in each other.
I fucked her until we were one person, and in a way we were, because I'd lost myself along the way and I found myself again in the most unlikely place.
I'd found myself again in the haunted eyes of a girl who was just as lost as I was.
Or maybe, we didn't find each other at all.
Maybe, we just decided to be lost together.
He cupped my ass and lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. “There was one point I’d made the decision to tell you the truth. I owed you that much. But then all the shit went down with Isaac and Preppy, so when I made the deal with your father for Max, I thought I was doing you a favor by giving you your life back and getting you out of all the shit that came with being in mine.”
I squeezed my thighs around his waist, rubbing myself against his hardness. I moaned. “But you weren’t giving me my life back.” I corrected. I placed my palms on his cheeks and held his face in my hands, searching for any sign in his eyes that what I felt for him might have been wrong, but instead what I found was a resounding need to fix what was broken between us. Tears formed in my eyes. “You were taking it away.” King’s lips parted. He ran his thumb across my lower lip, turning his head he kissed his way up my arm.
“Goosebumps,” King observed, running his fingertips across my already stimulated skin. I bit my lip and stifled a moan.
“It’s just the heat," I lied.
"You've got that fucking right," King growled, bending my wrist behind my back, his lips came crashing down over mine. We were a tangling of lips, clanking of teeth, sloshing through the water to better line ourselves up with each other. It wasn't pretty.
It was need.
"I’m still fucking mad at you for letting me go,” I said into his mouth, while our tongues did things other parts of me throbbed to do.
King stilled and held my face away from his, our chests heaving in unison, my erect nipples rubbing against his hot hard skin as we panted together. Our breaths mingled in the air. He ran his hand down the side of my face and cupped my cheek in his palm. "I didn't give you away, Pup. I released you."
I stilled. "You released me?" I couldn't hide the hurt in my voice. For some reason, releasing me sounded worse than letting me go.
King ran his tongue across the tip of my earlobe, holding me tightly against his warmth. Chills ran down my spine and into my very core and they had nothing to do with the temperature of the rain.
"I tried to release you, Pup. For Max. But there was a major problem with that plan, and no matter what happened, it would never have worked," King confessed.
"Why is that?" I asked, needing to know, but at the same time acutely aware of the pulsing between my legs. Relief and release was only a scrap or two of fabric away. Throbbing for me.
"The problem was…you never released me," King growled, crashing his lips to mine. He moaned into my mouth when I rubbed myself up against his straining erection. He pushed the fabric of my shorts aside and the second he parted my folds with his index finger, I shuddered. He plunged a long index finger inside of me, and for a second my eyes rolled back in my head until he withdrew it. I cried out in frustration, wiggling myself against him, needing him to make me feel anything other than empty.
About the Author
T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and three feisty fur kids.
She attended Florida Gulf Coast University where she specialized in public speaking. After years working in real estate and new home construction, she decided it was finally time to stop pushing her dreams to the back burner and pursue writing seriously.
In the third grade she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster. It earned rave reviews from both her teacher and her parents.
It only took her twenty years to start the next one.
It will not be about hamsters.