Release Blitz

Real Rocks

Real Rocks by Julie Archer
The Rocks Duet No2
Stay away from bad boys…
That’s what Saff Barnes thought she’d done when she fell for Tris Judd for real.
When her band goes on tour with the current darlings of the indie rock world, little does she realise how bad lead singer Scott Lincoln can really be.
A fake post of Scott’s goes viral and threatens Saff and Tris’s relationship as the channels of communication between them become broken.
And just as hearts are mended, another bombshell jeopardises their future together.
“Strong, sassy, sexy…and that’s just the characters!”
Julie Archer is the author of contemporary romances with steamy times and drama, but always a happy ending!
She lives in Devon in the UK with Mr A and two feline children, Corey and Elsa. Also, indie rock and COYS.
Find out more about Julie and her books here: 

Release Boost

Tidy Up by AJ Alexander

Against all odds, do opposites attract… Find out NOW in Tidy Up by AJ Alexander!!

Google Play ➙ Coming Soon…


Against all odds, do opposites attract… Theo has always pushed limits, but his new maid is pushing all his buttons – the right ones. Morgan has an innocence about her that draws him to her, but she’s off limits. She’s everything he’s not and despite not deserving her, knowing he would ruin her, he yearns to dominate all aspects of her life – be the only man she ever desires. Morgan may not have much experience when it comes to men, but the thoughts she begins to have about her new boss, are far from innocent. Theo is wealthy, powerful and experienced. Everything she isn’t, but he’s everything she wants. Morgan has a suspicion he wants her too, but just won’t admit it… yet. Mixing business with pleasure might be a bad idea, but she is tired of behaving all the time. Maybe Theo can bring her inner “bad girl” to the surface.


Stay → ONLY 99c
About AJ Alexander
AJ Alexander is a wannabe psychologist, writer, and author of the recently completed, SEAL’ed Series. AJ’s passion is writing angst filled happily ever afters that have to be earned by her characters. Women with no backbone need not apply. AJ uses sarcasm and an unlimited supply of song lyrics to bring her romance novels to life. AJ lives in the angst capital of the world, Seattle Washington with her own personal knight in shining armour and her two beautiful girls.

Follow AJ Online! Amazon: Bookbub: Facebook: Facebook Group: Goodreads: Instagram: Newsletter: Website:

Sale Blitz

Blue Moon Series by Lucy Score

Series Title: Blue Moon Series
Titles: No More Secrets ~ Fall Into Temptation ~ The Last Second Chance ~ Not Part of the Plan ~ Holding on to Chaos ~ The Fine Art of Faking It 
Author: Lucy Score
Genre: Spicy Romantic Comedy
Available NOW 99 cents ~ Kindle Unlimited
Small-town, spicy romantic comedies with nosy, matchmaking neighbors.
Binge read the complete Blue Moon series for $0.99 each or free in KindleUnlimited.
No More Secrets, Book #1: Opposites attract. Veteran turned bearded, vegetarian farmer meets an independent big city journalist with an agenda and a secret. Goat attack. Farm life. Family full of attractive, single men. The worst daycare field trip ever.
Fall Into Temptation, Book #2: Neighbors too close for comfort. Single mom of hilarious kids. Most eligible bachelor landlord/attorney/mayor. Opposites combust. Complicated family. Hot yoga. Makeovers with a five-year-old. Sticky situations with an ex-husband.
The Last Second Chance, Book #3: Enemies to lovers. Second chance. Grumpy tomboy with a baking fetish. Ex-lover returns to town and refuses to play fair. Horses. Most epic pet rescue ever. Farm life. Family business. The closet of truth.
Not Part of the Plan, Book #4: New in town. Mid-life crisis. Friends to lovers. Opposites attract. Friend zoned. Organized, by-the-book heroine who doesn’t like making mistakes. Ladies man photographer looking to find his mojo. Swoon-worthy grand gesture. Marshmallow Munchies.
Holding on to Chaos, Book #5: Secret romance novelist. Sexy sheriff. Lust at first sight. Accidental flashings. A funny fire. A whole town of people who lost their damn minds. Say no to perms. First date fails. Family secrets. The best town meeting ever. A marching band standoff.
The Fine Art of Faking It, Book #6: Enemies to lovers. Fake relationship. Feuding neighbors. Stink bombing gone wrong. Hippie parents. Old high school drama. Second chance at a first time. Doofy dogs with no loyalty. A rambling bed and breakfast. A fancy organic winery.
Lucy Score is a Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author. Small town contemporary rom-coms are her lady jam and she enjoys delivering the feels with a huge side of happily ever after. 
Her books have been translated into several languages, making readers around the world snort laugh, swoon, and sob. Lucy lives in Pennsylvania with the devastatingly handsome Mr. Lucy and their horrible cat.
In her spare time she enjoys sleeping, drinking copious amounts of coffee, and reading all the romance novels in the universe.
Cover Reveal

The Vow We Made by Loriana Cappello

Title: The Vow We Made
Author: Loriana Cappello
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 14, 2019
A Story of friendship, family, and above all else, love.
Victoria West was Vivacious, determined and thought her happily ever after was all mapped out. 
When tragedy strikes, claiming the life of her new husband, she receives information that shatters her world. 
Three years later, Victoria finds herself beginning to trust another man for the first time,  but is she prepared to expose her darkest fears and share the biggest secret of her life with him?
Doctor Aiden James is dedicated to his profession and has little time for relationships,  but there’s something about Victoria’s vulnerability and beauty that makes him want a different future. 
One where she becomes his. 
An unfortunate twist of fate leads to Aiden making a discovery about his own past. 
Consumed with guilt, will he choose his professional oath or damn the consequences for Victoria?
Two people destined to be together but both are keeping secrets that could destroy their chance at forever.
Loriana Cappello lives just outside of London, with her ever-supportive husband and four beautiful children. She is a full-time mum by day, but when her evenings become free, she hides away and loses herself in the depths of her imagination. Her passion for reading and writing tall stories started as a little girl. Her love of romance, a little later.
Blog Tour

Alpha’s Sun


1. Just say no.

Sunny Hines is the most infuriating female I’ve ever met.
Long hair, big sunny smile, cute little freckles, yoga-tight body.
Delicious scent.

2. Resist the urge to claim. Walk away.
My wolf wants to mark her, but there’s no way in hell I’m falling for a human.
This pretty little hippie human is driving me crazy.
Two years ago, I had her beneath me, howling my name, until she left.
Now she’s back, but she’s not going to put me on a leash.

3. No…Just no.

But when I see her with another man, I can’t stop myself from
Marking my territory and making it clear:
Sunny is mine.

Publisher’s Note: Alpha’s Sun is an over 50’s romance featuring a dominant, protective wolf with a free-spirited human female set in the bestselling Bad Boy Alphas series. HEA guaranteed!


I park my motorcycle at the Rio Grande gorge bridge and walk down to check out the scene at the end of the bridge.

And it is a scene. There are vendors assembled on the side, some with tables set up, some operating out of buses or the backs of pickup trucks. There are pinon nuts for sale. Local honey. Jewelry. The vendors are a mix of Native Americans and hippies.

A bridge stretches across the Rio Grande gorge, a nauseating six hundred or more feet above the giant canyon. I hear a tour guide telling someone it’s one of the highest bridges in the country. I recognize it from Easy Rider and one of the Terminator movies—favorites of mine.

I scent the air, catching the smell of coffee, ice cream, sweat. The sun beats harder in the high altitude and my leather riding jacket suddenly feels too hot.

I peel it off and toss it over the seat of the bike. I don’t know why, but I have a good feeling about this rest area. Like I’m going to get the information I need from one of these humans milling about here. There’s a positive energy crackling in the air.

Someone knows something. I’m here for a reason; I can feel it.

My alpha sent me to follow up on some intel we received about another Data X lab out in the high mesa of New Mexico. I scouted around Sandia National Labs, because we thought it might be there, but I caught no scent of shifters. I checked out Roswell, because of the alien lore, but struck out there, too. There may be aliens, but I didn’t smell any shifters.

I only know one wolf in New Mexico and he’s a loner. No pack, totally off the grid. So off the grid, he doesn’t have a phone—landline or cell. It’s been years since I’ve seen him. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s still around, but I figure if any of the weird shit that went down with the Data-X guys—any government testing on shifters or disappearances happened in his state, he’d know.

So I’ve come up to the one place I know he always goes in summer—the Taos and Red River area for fishing.

“Titus? Oh my goddess!” A female voice stops me in my tracks and my entire body reacts like a flash flood of lust dumping into my veins.


Not her.

I’m so not up for this right now.

I rotate slowly, and even though I’m prepared to see the brightness that is Sunny Hines, her beauty knocks my knees out from under me.

I flex my jaw, forcing myself to breathe.

“Sunny.” It comes out like a growl. Like an admonishment, which I guess it is.

This woman is fucking trouble with a capital Fuck.

A free-loving hippie who blew through my life two years ago like a fucking hurricane. Definitely left damage in her wake. And I hadn’t even realized I had anything on the line with her.

She’s dressed in a tank top that shows off her slender, muscular arms and her long blonde hair is woven in a braid that hangs across one delicate shoulder. She hurls herself at me.

You wouldn’t think a woman so tiny could make such an impact, but I have to brace to catch her full weight, and there’s no choice but to pick her up off her feet with a bear hug. Her arms wind around my neck in a stranglehold.

“Sweet goddess above. I knew I’d see you again! It’s so great. Such a surprise.” She barely breathes between sentences. “How are things? Have you been to Tucson to see the kids?”

I try to extricate myself from the hug, mainly because the feel of those soft, bra-less breasts rubbing over my chest is too much. Especially when combined with her unique scent. I don’t know what it is—probably some frankincense or patchouli shit, but on her, it doesn’t smell bad. On her, it comes off as feminine power mingled with mysticism.

It smells like danger.

My wolf doesn’t think so. My wolf thinks she smells like hedonistic pleasure.

And he’s totally down with that.

But I’m not.

Fuck, no. This female—this human female—is the last person I need to get involved with. If I think I made a mistake with my first mate, I know without question this one is a hundred times worse.

At least Barbara stuck around a few years to see Titus Junior grow into a little boy. But maybe that’s not fair. From what I can tell, Sunny was a great single parent for Foxfire, my son’s mate.

But she’s ditzy as hell. Like whacko airy-fairy.

I clear my throat trying to step back, but she follows into my personal space. Damn her. “Uh, yeah. I saw the kids a few weeks ago. All good.”

“Any talk of grandchildren?” The hope in her face is so blinding I want to look away. People shouldn’t show their emotions so clearly. It’s unnerving. Does something squirmy to my gut.

“No,” I say too gruffly. “At least not that I heard. But I don’t go pushing that kind of thing.” I glower at her like it’s entirely inappropriate for a woman in her fifties—a woman who looks too fucking glorious to be in her fifties—to want grandchildren.

Her expression dims slightly and she pulls back.

I’m instantly sorry for being such a dick. My wolf stirs, restlessly, like he needs me to fix it. ASAP. Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out to touch her arm.

I fucking stroke her arm—like I have any right to touch her that way. To caress her sun-kissed soft skin. “I’m sure they’ll come eventually. The kids are still young.”

Some kind of pain flits across her face, something I can’t decipher, but she nods and turns the smile back up. “Well, what are you doing here, Titus? Clearly you didn’t come to see me.”

The idea that I would come to see her is ludicrous, and she must know it because a blush creeps up her neck. It may be adorable to see a woman our age blush, but again—the woman’s got to stop showing every single emotion. It’s fucking dangerous to show so much vulnerability. Especially a woman like her, living alone in that goddamn Airstream. Any guy could take advantage of her. Mow her down.

And that thought leaves my skin prickly with anger.

“I’m on official pack—I mean club business.” I’m not sure if Sunny fully understands what we are. She lives in a different dimension. To her, everyone has a spirit animal, which she can see with her inner eye. So she sees mine as a wolf. She saw her daughter’s as a fox, so she named her Foxfire. But does she really get that we’re shifters? That part is unclear.

If she were a different kind of human, telling her probably would’ve been necessary. But she sort of accepts it all like it’s nothing. I don’t think she’s actually seen a shifter in their true animal form. Tank swore to his alpha she hadn’t, anyway. I don’t believe she knows it is a real thing, not a spirit animal.

She came to my son’s pack run, the one where I lit up the sky with fireworks to welcome her daughter to the pack, but since she’s not a member, I took her on a ride on my motorcycle when the time came for everyone to shift and run.

She stares at me now, open-faced, expecting more.

“It’s private business,” I add. I’m sure as hell not going to discuss serious pack shit with her.

“Oh. Well great. Do you have a place to stay?”

I look around for her Airstream, but I don’t see it. I do see her painted VW bus parked at the edge of the gorge. Daisy, I think she calls it. Insert eye roll. How in the hell did I miss it before? I worked on that thing for a full week, not wanting her risking a breakdown driving around in the ancient pile of screws and bolts.

I don’t have a plan for where to sleep yet, but fate knows I’d never fit in the Airstream, if that’s where she still sleeps. Not that I plan to get anywhere near her and a bed again, anyway. “I’ll figure something out,” I say.

Her smile takes another dive.

My wolf fucking hates it.

“Yeah, sure. Great. Well, if you want to grab a beer or something while you’re—”

“I don’t think so,” I cut her off. I need to get away from this female before she snares me in her feminine web again. I still remember how gutted I felt when she left last time. “But thanks.”

“Sunny!” A good-looking but clearly weak and inferior human male calls out from a table nearby. “You teaching rooftop yoga tonight?”

Oh, no he didn’t.

I seriously think the asshole is challenging me. He may not even understand his own behavior—humans are idiots about pack order dynamics even though they engage in them every day—but I guaran-fucking-tee he saw me talking to Sunny and his nature prompted him to insert himself.


Sunny turns her bright face in his direction. “You know it! Are you coming?”

“Of course. I’m looking forward to opening my hips with you under the sunset.”

Sunny snorts, which only partially mollifies my wolf. Really I’d like to go over there and punch the guy right in his gut. Teach him to fucking sniff around my territory.


Pull back, Titus.

This woman is definitely not my territory. I haven’t marked her, nor do I plan to. The last time I mated a female it ended badly. Lost me my position in the pack and ruined my kid’s life.

But I’m incapable of walking away and letting this guy open his fucking hips with Sunny tonight.

“What’s rooftop yoga?” I snarl.

Amusement flickers over Sunny’s face. “I teach sunset yoga on the roof of one of the cantinas on the plaza. Why? You going to come?” She folds her arms across her chest with a teasing challenge in her gaze.

And my wolf never backs down from a challenge.

Never, ever.

I splutter as I try to answer. “Yeah.” The syllable wobbles across my lips. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.” Her eyes still dance with amusement. “You probably don’t have any clothes you can stretch in, though.”

Is she giving me an out?

I glance over at fuck-face. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, great.” There’s false cheerfulness in her voice now, and I don’t particularly like it. Does she not want me there? Does she actually want to have a yoga date with fuck-face? She takes a couple steps back from me. “I’ll see you there, then.”

“Wait—where exactly?”

“On the rooftop patio above La Cantina. Follow the crowd with yoga mats—you can’t miss it.”

Yoga mats… fuck.

As if she reads my mind, she says, “I’ll bring a mat for you.” She tosses a wink before she saunters away, the swish of her hips imprinting on my brain like a hypnotic cue for lust.

Oh hell. What did I just do?

I’m out here on pack business, and I’m letting myself get distracted by a female. There’s a pattern here that’s uncanny. Females are trouble for me. I was kicked out of my pack over a woman. Tank and I wandered around like beggars until Emmett Green took me into his pack in Wolf Ridge, Arizona, north of Phoenix. And now after five minutes with a pretty human, I’m ready to ignore my orders for the most out of character activity on the planet—rooftop yoga.

I must be out of my fucking mind.



Oh lordy.

I forgot how attractive Titus is. Huge, masculine, muscular goodness. Immovable as a wall, both physically and emotionally.

But he’s an alpha male, so when Chas asked about yoga, he couldn’t stop himself from throwing his dick in the ring. Yeah, mixed metaphor. My specialty.

How emotionally immature.

And slightly flattering.

Well, it might have been flattering if he hadn’t pretty much given me the brush off. So now it’s just annoying. Like he doesn’t want me, but no one else is allowed to have me either? I don’t think so.

I’m not playing that game, big boy.

I’m not playing any game with you. If you want me, come and get it. But if you’re still not ready, don’t waste my time. I have a life to live.

I head back to my tables and start packing things up for the evening. I haven’t sold a single piece today. Which is how it goes. The day felt kinda flat when I woke up this morning, but I still have to get out there and try. I’m fine—money always appears when I need it. The Universe has my back, for sure.

I don’t give into the woe-is-me, I’m a starving artist thing, because I know that can turn into an identity and it’s not one I’m going to choose. I climb behind the wheel of my bus and start her up. She still runs like a dream thanks to the prickly man I just walked away from.

I look around for where he’s parked and spot him saddled up on his motorcycle, staring right at me. I lift my hand with an overly-cheerful wave which he doesn’t acknowledge. Instead, he guns the motorcycle and takes off with a roar.


The guy seriously has way too much of it.

He is definitely not a sensitive new age guy. More like King Kong meets caveman.

And yet I still sense he could be the one. There’s something in me that feels so vibrant when I’m with him. Like he could be my soulmate. Twin flame. Divine partner.

But he’s got his head stuck so far up his ass he wouldn’t know his soulmate if she danced naked in front of him. He’s the bros before hos type all the way.

He has blinders on to almost anything except his precious motorcycle club. And he may be big and strong and fierce, but what he doesn’t know is that sometimes vulnerability takes the most courage. Putting yourself out there. Risking your heart. Your emotions. Your very soul for love.

But I’m not anyone to emulate. I’ve been hurt way too many times. I’m not going to open the door for Titus to walk through unless I know for sure this time he’s ready. That it will work.

So yeah, I guess I’m as big of a chicken shit as he is.

I drive to the plaza and park in the lot, then pull the drapes across the bus windows to change into my yoga clothes.

Rooftop yoga is the highlight of my week. Especially now that it’s summer and we don’t need the heaters anymore. I grab mats and start walking to the plaza, waving to my friends and students also converging.

Taos is a great community—a blend of three diverse cultures: descendants of the original Spanish settlers who still speak Spanish and hold all the government positions, the Native Americans, who own most of the land in the area, and the hippies who arrived in the sixties and opened the bohemian shops.

I love it, but I don’t feel like I’ll settle here forever. I’m holding my breath for grandchildren. If Foxfire gets pregnant, I’ll move back to Arizona in a heartbeat.

I walk up the stairs to the rooftop where Tara, the cantina owner, is testing the sound equipment.

“Hi, girl, how’s it going?” She holds out her hand for my phone, which she connects to the PA. She thought I was crazy when I pitched my idea for sunset yoga up on her rooftop patio last year, but now that she’s seen it bring in a large crowd who stay for food and drink specials after, she bends over backwards to accommodate me.

“It’s good, totally good.”

She squints at me. “Yeah? You don’t seem like your usual floaty self.”

I force a laugh and rub my lips together. “There’s a guy coming tonight.”

“Ooh.” She waggles her brows. “Which one?”

Yeah, Taos is that small. The joke is that once you’ve dated every guy on the list of eligible bachelors, you have no choice but to reboot and start again from the top.

I shake my head. “A guy from Arizona. We hooked up once, but… he doesn’t like women much.”

She purses her lips. “Sounds like a loser to me. Maybe skip this one.”

Something tightens in my middle. Almost like I’m offended on his behalf. Titus is not a loser. He’s a beautiful and flawed human being, like all of us. I have total acceptance of who he is. I just have to listen to my intuition to decide if it’s in my best interest to get involved with him.

Tara cocks her head. “Aw, you do really like him, don’t you? Well, is he around? I want to meet him.”

“He is supposedly coming to yoga, although I can’t imagine how he’ll manage. He’s built like a semi-truck and is about as flexible.”

She lets out a laugh. “So that’s how you like them. I wouldn’t have guessed that. Would’ve pegged you for more of the scrawny yoga types. But then, we go for opposites, don’t we?”

I shake my head. “I’m not going for this one,” I say, like I’ve already made up my mind.

Some sliver of hope in the center of my chest withers when the words leave my mouth, though.

“Uh huh.” She hands me my phone, which is now amplified to play my world beat playlist. I take the headset from her and put it on, testing the mic.

The community is filing in. Chas arrives and sets up his mat right in front. After that stupid display at the gorge, I can’t even look at him.

The patio fills with at least twenty-five people. I get the full range of ages and abilities. I’m not egotistical enough to believe they come for me or my teaching—they love the atmosphere. The rooftop. The sunset. The music and the laidback but still genuine class format. There are young and old, mother-teen combos, super buff river raft guides, other yogis, and the conglomerate of friendly faces.

I wave to my friends, Adele, the chocolatier; Charlie, our postmistress; and Sadie, a kindergarten teacher as they roll their mats out in their habitual places.

I place my hands in front of my heart and bow. “Welcome, everyone. Namaste. Please sit in half lotus on your mat, if that’s comfortable.” I draw in a breath to give them my short suggestion for meditation tonight. I had a plan to talk about being in allowance of others, but it no longer feels relevant.

“Yoga is a practice with rhythm. There’s a timing with breath and movement. You know when to move, when to hold, when to release, when to recover. So is life. Paying attention to timing makes all the difference. Don’t push when something’s not ready. Don’t hesitate when something’s ripe. This week, as you move through life, ask the question—is the timing right for this? Should I bide my time or should I pounce? When is time to release the old? When is time to bring in the new?”

I go quiet, allowing them a moment of silence to reflect on that.

“Close your eyes.” I wait for them to comply. “We’ll begin with three oms. Please release your breath. And after the inhale, we begin.” I make the tone as Titus’ huge form appears at the top of the stairs.

He’s wearing a navy blue t-shirt that molds to his ripped muscles and a pair of sweat-shorts. He looks about as out of place and uncomfortable as a nun in a strip club, so I nod through my om and point to the mat I rolled out for him on the end of the front row.

His brows lower, but he lumbers to the spot and—hilarious—attempts to sit cross-legged. The poor man’s lower back and hips are way too tight to allow his knees to open or his spine to straighten. I’d have a little more sympathy if he wasn’t looking at me like I’m bat-shit crazy.

I know that look. I’ve been getting it my whole life.

And Taos—particularly this class—is a place I can be myself. So fuck him.

We finish the three oms.

“And now come to stand at the front of your mat in Tadasana, or mountain pose.”

Titus’ forehead furrows as he struggles to stand up. I avert my gaze for fear of wounding his pride too much.

“We’ll start with our sun salutations. Inhale arms up. And exhale forward fold. Fingertips on the floor or hands on the shins and inhale, lift your head, lift your gaze. Exhale release your head. Take your weight in your hands and step or jump back to plank on the inhale. Exhale push back to downward facing dog.”

Poor Titus. It was so mean of me to tempt him into coming. I walk around to where he’s struggling to fold his hips toward the sky. “That’s it,” I murmur, although my voice is amplified so everyone hears it. I place the heel of my hand on his sacrum and apply gentle pressure, encouraging his pelvis to tilt so his sit bones roll up.

He gives a sharp exhale.

“Tread through your feet, bending one knee and the other to stretch your calves.”

I slip my hands around the front of his pelvis, thumbs on his back to show him a little more.

I swear I hear a low growl come from his throat. It’s not threatening, but my body responds automatically. I pull my hands away and step back.

Okay, buddy. You’re on your own.



This woman is fucking killing me.

I mean, seriously. I might die. Not just the stretching part, although that sucks. I’m a wolf, though. Indestructible. It may hurt now, but I’ll recover in twenty minutes. No, it’s the fucking cock tease.

I have little Miss Yogi wrapping those heaven-scented hands around my hips—so close to my dick—and there’s only one thing running through my mind.

Pound. Her. Hard.

I have an urgent need to get the woman on her knees and show her the best use for that stretchy lithe body.

And the worst thing is every time she walks anywhere near me, guiding us with that sing-song voice of hers, I get a half-boner, which is really fucking hard to hide in these gym shorts.

This is pure agony. It was absolute idiocy that spurred me into coming. Except that dickless prick from the gorge is front and center, trying to show off his prowess. So yeah. I’m not leaving. And I’m a fucking wolf. My body should do anything, even if I am over fifty. I may never have moved this way in my entire life, but I’m damn well going to. Because I’m not going to be out-stretched by pretty-boy over there.

“It’s not necessary to push,” Sunny intones in that musical voice of hers. Of course, she’s talking to me. “Yoga is not about efforting. It’s about acceptance. Know your limits. Know where your body is today, not where you want it to be. Honor your body. Follow your own knowing.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. I want to shut the female up. With my cock stuffed down her throat.

Okay, that’s crude and disrespectful. My wolf is getting far too rowdy. Down boy. You don’t get to fuck her. We’re not going down that path again. Females are a distraction which I clearly can’t handle, considering I’m up here pushing my ass to the sky instead of following the trail I was ordered to follow.

And she’s not even a wolf.

I’m so pathetic it’s scary.

She directs the group into some crazy arm balance—peacock pose. This I can do. I have ab and arm strength in spades. I press my elbows under my ribs, flatten my palms to the mat and extend my legs behind me, hovering parallel to the mat.

The people around me notice and murmur approvingly.

Eat that shit, pretty-boy.

“Yoga is a personal practice. There’s no need to compare yourself with others. There’s no competition.”

She’d look pretty with a gag. A bright pink one to match all the colors she likes to wear. She’d look lovely tied up, too. Naked, of course. Wrists in another bright color, bound to my headboard. I’d leave her feet free, though, so she can show me just how wide those legs spread. Just how bendy she can get with my hands on her.

Oh thank fuck. The class is finally over. At least I think it is. We’re lying on our backs with our eyes closed doing nothing. Corpse pose, I think she called it.

Oh, now the crazy female is walking around rubbing oil on each person’s neck and pulling their head away from their shoulders.

My wolf starts growling. He does not like her touching every fucker in this class.

When she gets to me, the exotic scent of the oil both calms and excites me. Intoxicates. Or is it her scent? No, it has to be the oil. It’s not like a human could tempt a shifter.

Except I know that’s a lie.

In my day, it was forbidden to even mix with humans. Definitely forbidden to mate with them. But it seems things are changing. My alpha’s son took a human for a mate, and several of his pack members have followed suit.

But I still don’t see how that works. A wolf wouldn’t get the instinct to mark a human for a mate. It’s biologically off. Their offspring may not even be capable of shifting. Why would an animal pick a permanent mate so clearly inferior?

Her small, but deft fingers stroke along the taut muscles of my neck and a low rumble comes out of my chest before I can check it. Almost like a purr, as if I’m a goddamn cat shifter.

She touches between my brows, and I instantly drop into a meditative state. My mind goes quiet. Deep.

I want to ruminate on how that’s possible, but thoughts seem unimportant. The slow beat of the music rocks through my body and my heartbeat syncs to it. I feel tingly. Alive. Connected.

It’s not a familiar feeling and yet it’s like coming home. I know this space.

I don’t know how long it goes on. There is no time. Five minutes? An hour?

From a huge distance away, Sunny’s voice filters into my head with the gentle suggestion that I roll to my side.

Push up to sit.

My body obeys without my mind engaging in thought. I blink my eyes open and find myself sitting on my mat, facing Sunny’s exotic figure. I’m entranced by the chain of butterflies tattooed around her upper arm.

She says some bullshit closing stuff and leads the class through another om and the whole time I just sit and watch her. Trying to figure out what about this human is so damn intriguing to me.

So intriguing she’s dangerous. She’s going to pull me off my mission—that’s something I just can’t allow. I resolve to get my ass up off the mat and get the hell out of there, but Sunny’s musical voice becomes another invitation.

“Thank you all for joining us tonight. La Cantina has food and drink specials for you all, so if you’d like to stick around and socialize, I’d love to have you. Namaste.”

Oh, fuck no.

Of course pretty boy is going to stick around. That’s why he’s so into rooftop yoga. He gets to watch Sunny in her yoga pants and stay for drinks with her. It’s like a fucking date to him.

Sure enough, the guy wears a huge smile as he tucks his rolled up mat under his arm and goes to stand beside her.

I skip the rolling the mat part and crumple it in my fist as I stalk over.

Sunny turns her attention to me, but it’s with disapproval. “Thanks, Titus,” she says drily, taking the mat from my clenched fist.

I growl a low warning in pretty boy’s direction.

He responds by moving closer to Sunny. “Ready for a drink?”

To my satisfaction, she inches away. “I’ll be there in a bit.” She turns her bright face in my direction. “Titus, are you joining us?”

Pretty boy deflates.

My wolf loves it. And my plans to walk away disintegrate. “Yeah. Okay.” My voice sounds rusty. I clear it. “Sounds good.”

She tugs her hair out of the ponytail that was high on one side of her head and lets her long blonde hair cascade down over her shoulders. “Then let’s go.”

Renee Rose 

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR RENEE ROSE is a naughty wordsmith who writes kinky BDSM novels. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won The Romance Reviews Best Historical Romance, and Spanking Romance Reviews’ Best Sci-fi, Paranormal, Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite couple and author. She’s hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and U.K., is often found on the list of Amazon’s Top Author list. She also pens BDSM stories under the name Darling Adams.

Lee Savino 

Lee Savino has grandiose goals but most days can’t find her wallet or her keys so she just stays at home and writes. While she was studying creative writing at Hollins University, her first manuscript won the Hollins Fiction Prize.

She lives in Richmond, Va with her awesome family> You can find her on Facebook in the Goddess Group (which you totally should join).

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Seeds of Eden

Title: Seeds of Eden
Author: A.P. Watson
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Cover Designer: Regina Wamba
Model: Christine Klein
Editors: Tamara Beard and Beth Williams
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Visions of decapitated corpses, pools of blood, and a masked executioner have haunted Evey’s dreams for as long as she can remember. Torn between life in the waking world and dreams of the dead, she discovers her normal existence is nothing more than an illusion. As time passes, she is led to question the confines of her own sanity. What sins could she possibly have committed to warrant such a curse?
The answers Evey has longed for surface with the sudden arrival of a familiar stranger. Conrad’s mystifying appearances in her nightmares only seems to draw her closer to him, and the attraction she feels for him is undeniable.
But when he confesses that their fates have been intertwined for centuries and the secrets of her past are revealed, Evey realizes that answers sometimes only lead to more complicated questions. Did one bite of forbidden fruit precipitate the Fall of Man? Or was a much more sinister force at work? Either way, the choices made in the Garden of Eden won’t go unpunished. If Evey and Conrad are to keep history from repeating itself, then the two of them must outrun a great darkness before it can claim their lives again.
A.P. Watson is a contemporary and paranormal romance author who discovered her love for reading at a very young age due to her rural upbringing. She enjoys a variety of genres and authors, from Jane Austen to Charlaine Harris. When she isn’t reading or writing, she loves to dance. A.P. has been an avid pole dancer for several years and thoroughly enjoys the challenging nature of the sport and the thrill of performing onstage. Professionally, she has worked as a registered nurse for several years, and she graduated with a Master of Science in Nursing in 2019. Her goal is to combine her love for aesthetics and skincare by utilizing her Family Nurse Practitioner certification in the field of dermatology. A.P. currently resides in Johnson City, Tennessee, with her adorable rescue pup, Elle. 
Author Links:
Chapter One: Awakening
“No! Please don’t,” I sobbed. Collapsing to my knees, I stole a glance at the man kneeling to my left. The sight of him, bound in chains, was agonizing, and my need to save him intensified with each passing moment. “I’m begging you to spare his life.” My heart felt as if it were being torn asunder. An enormous axe blocked the prisoner’s face from my view, its harsh blade stained with red.
“Who are you to beg anything from me?” A voice sneered at me from the shadows, mocking my very presence.The sound came from the direction of a grand throne looming in front of me, but his face was drenched in darkness.
“There was a time when you would do anything I asked of you,” I answered, my voice shaking.
A shrill laugh echoed off every surface of the great hall. I could see his hands clench  the arms of the throne as his nails gouged the gleaming wood. “Unfortunately for you, that time has come to an end.” He lifted his hand and beckoned the masked executioner to proceed.
“No!” I buckled forward, bracing myself with trembling hands. The stone was frigid, shocking. Breath caught in my throat—I was suffocating. The tips of my fingers clawed against the floor as I began scrambling toward the prisoner. If my pleas couldn’t free him, my hands would.
“Hold her still!” the man from the shadows bellowed. Someone grabbed my arms from behind. I thrashed wildly, desperately trying to free myself, but the grip was too firm. “And pry her eyes open if you have to. I want her to see this.” His words oozed with triumph and satisfaction. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach, gnawing at my insides. The man kneeling next to me was about to die, his life snuffed out as easily as a candle, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. There was nothing I could do to save him.
“Please, no!” Panic coursed through every inch of me, causing my muscles to convulse violently with the need to act. I couldn’t help but focus on the axe. It lifted, and the man’s face became visible. Brown locks of hair offset the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I wanted nothing more than to stare into those eyes until the end of time, but even as I had the thought, the axe sliced through the air with a whoosh, severing the man’s head from his neck. “No!” I screamed with all the power I could muster, but my plea rang hollow with the finality of the scene in front of me.
I woke up clutching my hand to my chest, fingernails dug into my skin, dotting the area over my heart with tiny crescent moons. Sweat trickled down my arms and neck. “A dream,” I said to myself. “It was just a dream.” I glanced at the clock next to my bed. The bright red numbers glared at me. 6:07 a.m. It was almost time to get ready for school. I collapsed on my pillow in defeat. My dreams had gotten steadily worse over the summer. Every night, they became more detailed. Colors sharpened, smells grew more potent, and the nightmares began to feel more like reality than fantasy. An unrelenting sense of terror riddled my body. I couldn’t shake it, couldn’t explain it. What was happening to me? I was a normal girl. I should be picking out prom dresses and visiting colleges, not holding myself accountable for the imaginary execution of a mystery man.
Electric blue monarch butterflies fluttered in circles above my head. I exhaled deeply, causing the mobile to pick up speed. As it spun, it morphed into a blurry halo. The jarring sound of my phone’s ringtone cut through the silence of my room. I jumped, answering it quickly and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hey Caroline,” I whispered.
“Morning! Did I wake you up? You sound out of breath.”
            “No,” I answered with a yawn. “I woke up like a minute or two before you called.” I wanted to talk to Caroline about my dream, but I couldn’t let these nightmares dictate my entire existence. At the end of last school year, I let them get the better of me. I started hanging out with my other friends less and less. Caroline stuck with me; she was the only one who knew about the things I saw when I closed my eyes at night. While I knew she was cool with just the two of us hanging out after work every night, I couldn’t make her forgo every social event. Senior year would be different, and I was going to make sure of it. Caroline was going to have enough exciting and amazing pictures to fill up her Instagram account for five years by the time we graduated. “The ridiculous ringtone you programmed into my phone for your contact disrupted the serenity of my room. It nearly gave me a heart attack.”
            “Disrupted the serenity of your room?” she asked with a laugh. “I love how you always sound like an SAT prep book when you talk. Seriously, Dr. Sawyer cried when she announced your perfect score on the state writing exam last year.”
            “I almost forgot about that!”
            “She was so proud,” she replied. “And she practically hugged me when I confessed to her that I’d added a thesaurus app on my phone just so I could look up some of the words you use. It’s like she knew you were a good influence on me.”
            “I guess I’m just weird.”
            “I like it! Remember the note you wrote me in third grade asking if I wanted to be your friend? In that note, you told me you appreciated my sassy disposition. We were nine then! You have a better vocabulary than most of the English teachers we’ve had. It’s just who you are.”
            “That was a killer note,” I agreed. Caroline and I had been best friends since my fateful note in the third grade. From then on, we’d been pretty much joined at the hip. Being an only child could get lonely at times, and she was the closest thing I had to a sister.“So, I’m guessing you called because you want to know what I’m going to wear to school today, huh?”
“It’s the first day of our senior year of high school. Honestly, would you expect anything less from me?”
“Not really, especially since you’ve called me every morning for the last four years to discuss clothes.”
“Wardrobe can make you or break you in high school, Evey!”
“But we don’t care what people think,” I countered. I heaved myself out of bed and headed to the opposite side of my room. I needed to stare at my dream board for a minute. Looking at it always made me feel better, especially after having a nightmare. It was covered with pictures of Caroline and me among print-outs of famous monuments. Caroline and I dreamed of traveling the world. One day, we’d see the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, and the Colosseum. I added a picture of the famous Las Vegas sign to the collage. This small town wouldn’t be able to hold us for much longer.
“Of course we don’t.”
“So the point is to look fabulous while not caring?”
“My thoughts exactly,” she replied. “And what can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”
I shook my head and laughed. I walked away from my desk to stand in front of my closet. Any day now, it was sure to bust and spit out a mountain of clothes. Why was it that I could never bring myself to throw anything away? “I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t noticed. I think I’m going to wear some jeans and that new loose-fitting tank top I got at the mall last week with a pink cardigan.”
“Oh, that sounds cute! I’m going to wear jeans, too, but I think my green button-up shirt will look good with some sandals . . .  I’m so excited! I’ve been waiting for senior year for so long,” she said.
“Me too!”
“Just think, one more year and we’ll be in college! Co-ed dorms, here we come!”
“Somehow I don’t see my dad moving me into a co-ed dorm. The thought of us living ten feet away from college boys will probably make him have an aneurysm,” I said with a laugh. “When will you be here to pick me up?”
“Seven thirty. I want to get to school a little early since it’s the first day, and we’ll have the dreaded opening assembly.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Don’t remind me!”
“I know. Every time Principal Louden goes into his ‘Aim for the Stars’ speech, I have to fight the urge to hurl.”
“Tell me about it,” I replied. “Last year, I thought about performing a makeshift lobotomy on myself with a pen.”
“Let’s not rule that out this year. If the speech goes from awful to agonizing, it might be our only option,” Caroline added, her tone the epitome of seriousness.
“I’ll have my pens at the ready.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon!”
I trudged from my closet to the bathroom, dragging my hand along the lavender-colored walls. Once I was by the shower, I turned the knob to hot and waited to step in until steam started to rise over the curtain. Warm drops pelted my neck, easing the tension away. As I soaked my hair, I replayed the execution again in my mind. The overwhelming sense of despair permeated my soul and tainted my every thought. I wanted to know the prisoner, wanted to know why he was being killed. His blood was on my hands. The king wanted me to suffer, and the man’s death was my punishment. No matter how many times I had this dream, there was always one thing that stood out in my mind: how utterly real it felt.
But it wasn’t real, I reminded myself. Maybe I had an overactive imagination, or maybe I was mentally insane. Regardless, there had to be a logical explanation for my nightmares. I wanted answers, wanted to know why I saw such things. But at the same time, the unknown held a certain advantage. How could I ever recover if I found out I was crazy? I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. Making it through my last year of high school was more important. I needed to focus on that before I could even start thinking about anything else. Except I did need to put some energy into dating. Caroline was always nagging me to give some of the guys at school a chance. I was definitely overdue for some kind of distraction.
Once my hair was dry and curled to perfection, I started on my makeup. As I finished getting ready, I began to feel more relaxed. Today was the first day of my senior year, and I couldn’t let one nightmare ruin it. I was determined to stay optimistic. Throwing on my clothes, I ran my fingers through my tousled curls and headed down the hall for a quick bite to eat.
My feet made their regular route past the living room, curving around the corner into the kitchen. I walked over to mom and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Morning.”
“Good morning! How does it feel to officially be a senior?” She turned from the kitchen counter to pull me into a quick hug.
“Same as last year.” I shrugged. I stuck my head into the dining room and saw my dad sitting at the antique mahogany table reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Morning, Daddy,” I said, sitting in the chair beside him. His dark brown eyes looked at me over the square rims of his reading glasses. His black hair and beard were peppered with gray, while soft lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. Just as I finished pouring myself a bowl of cereal, my mom handed me a piping cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” he said and smiled.
“What’s going on in the news today?” Dad read our town’s newspaper religiously, though Estill Springs didn’t register as more than a speck on a map of Tennessee. Even the dictionary made for a more fascinating read than the Springs Sentinel.
“A couple of kids spray-painted some stuff at the city park, but that’s about it,” he said with a shrug.
“Why do you even bother reading that? It’s not like anything ever happens here.” Grabbing the sugar, I poured a teaspoon into my coffee mug. 
“And I like it that way,” he replied, smiling over his drink.
“Oh, Guy, can you believe it? After this year, she’ll be graduating and then she’ll be leaving us to go to college.” My mother had her light brown hair pinned on the top of her head, and I could see her gold locket hanging around her neck. It had been a gift from my father when they first started dating. I knew it was her favorite piece of jewelry because she never took it off.   Her light green eyes sparkled, and I could just make out the faint lingering of tears in them.
“It seems like just yesterday I was carrying you around on my shoulders.”
“Both of you act as if I just grew up overnight,” I said, shaking my head at them.
“Well, for us, it feels that way,” she answered.
“The schools I’m looking at are still within driving distance. It’s not like I’ll be moving across the country after I graduate.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go to Murfreesboro?” she asked.
“Yeah,” my father added. “You can stay here and go to school.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you were plotting against me.” I laughed. I loved my parents. They’d always been there for me and always would be. I knew a lot of people at school who either hated or barely talked to their parents, but that wasn’t the way it was in my family. That thought made me ponder Caroline’s suggestion from a few weeks ago. Lately, she’d been encouraging me to talk to my parents about my dreams. At first, I didn’t want to involve them in my drama-filled nightmares. But Caroline and I were at a loss for what was happening to me, and they may have more insight as to why I thought of such horrible things. Besides, didn’t they deserve to know if something was wrong with me?
            I could feel my confession forming with each breath I took, but as soon as the courage to tell them surfaced, I stopped myself. What if they blamed themselves for my condition? I could handle nightmares of executions and people being tortured, but I couldn’t bear the thought of causing my parents pain. “We wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a wink. “Are you working after school today?”
“Yeah, Caroline and I have our regular school shift at Pat’s. I should be back by ten though.”
            “Is Caroline going to join us for breakfast this morning?” 
“Not today,” I replied, answering mom’s question. “We have an assembly this morning so she wants to get there early.”
“Well, you wouldn’t want to miss that.”
I smiled at her, unable to rid myself of the thought that missing the assembly would be a blessing. “Not at all.” Breakfasts like this were what I needed. A few minutes ago, I’d been so close to confessing everything to my parents, I’d almost forgotten the promise I’d made to myself. I was determined to have a carefree senior year, and if ignoring my dreams would help me attain my goal, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
            Before we could continue our conversation, two honks sounded from the driveway. That was my signal that Caroline was ready to go. I headed for the kitchen to gather my things.
“Here you go, Evey.” Mom’s arm was extended, holding my leather messenger bag. The brown exterior was faded from years of use. It had been my mom’s, and like most of my other possessions, it was an antique. “Do you need money for lunch?”
“No, I have some. Love you!” I called to both of them over my shoulder and rushed out the door.
I waved to Caroline as I approached her car. A Chanel compact was perfectly poised in her hand as she applied a layer of lip gloss. Flashing me a grin, she flung the car door open. She drove a beat-up Nissan Sentra, but you couldn’t tell her that. She was one of those people who felt an emotional connection to her car, even if the majority of the white paint was peeling from the hood. Her motto was the car chooses the driver, though she’d inherited this pile of junk when her cousin got a new one for college. I plopped down in the seat, wedging my messenger bag in between my feet.
“Hey, you look so cute!” I told her.
“Thanks, you do too!”
“Can you believe this is our last year at Tulson? I’ve been freaking out all morning.”
“I couldn’t be more excited! We’re going to have so much fun in college.”
“I know! I can’t wait!”
“This is such a good song. Let’s turn it up!” I reached forward and turned the volume dial on her radio as she backed her car out of my driveway.
            “Senior year, here we come!” she shouted. We continued singing along to the radio throughout the drive and, ten minutes later, found ourselves pulling into an empty space in the parking lot. When we got out, there was already a multitude of cars around us. It seemed that, like us, everyone else was ready to start the new school year.
 Walking through the side entrance, we filed in line with a mass of other students. Posters decorated the brick walls, advertising afternoon meetings for the French and Spanish clubs. Weaving through the sea of bodies, we headed to the assembly. 
A crowd of nervous freshmen hovered at the entrance to the gymnasium, and we squeezed through to find two open seats. The room was buzzing with conversation. Everyone was running around, saying hellos and giving out hugs to all the people they hadn’t seen during the summer. Kristen stood as we approached the bleachers, waving her arms at us. Caroline and I returned her wave, scanning for two empty seats, but every empty slot around her was filled.
“Find us after the assembly!” I shouted to her.
“Okay! I will!” she called out.
We made our way up to the only empty space, which was at the top of the bleachers, and sat with our backs against the gym wall.
            As Principal Louden walked to the center of the gym, Caroline and I pulled out our schedules to see which classes we had together. English IV, Economics, World History, and then Physics.
“We have every class together.” I nudged her shoulder.
“I can’t believe it! Which guidance aide did you sweet talk into doing that?” she asked me, looking both pleased and incredulous.
“Who me?” I asked as innocently as possible.
“Yes, now spill.”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I replied with a smile.
“I love it when you’re diabolical!”
“Good morning, students!” Principal Louden bellowed from behind a small podium in the center of the basketball court. “How are all of you this morning?” He cupped his hand around his ear, gesturing his eagerness to hear our replies. His shining cheeks mirrored the majority of his head, which was almost entirely bald. “I’m so excited for the start of another school year here at Tulson High! I know we have the best students in the world, and all of you have the potential to do something great with your lives,” Principal Louden continued. “But you have to learn in order to earn that potential. You have to search for success within yourselves!”
“It’s like watching a wreck; it’s so terrible and yet I can’t look away,” Caroline said.
“I guess we can count out getting nominated for ‘most school spirited’ in the senior superlatives,” I replied. When Principal Louden entered the fifth minute of his speech, I couldn’t take any more. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“What’s up?” Caroline asked, leaning in so we could whisper.
“I just wanted to say thanks for sticking with me after all the craziness last year. I know all my drama caused you to kinda stop hanging with our old group and I feel bad about it.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that! We’re besties, it’s what we do for each other.”
“Regardless, I wanted to say thanks and make you a promise that this year will be different. We’re gonna have an awesome senior year!”
“Really?” she asked. I nodded in answer to her question. “A year filled with hot boys and maybe an appearance or two at one of my cousin’s college parties?”
“Whatever you want, I’m down!”
She squealed with delight, wrapping her arms around my neck. “This is gonna be the best year ever, Evey!”
“Only if we can get the hell out of this assembly.”
            When Principal Louden finally dismissed the student body to go to their first period classes, everyone jumped out of their seats, rushing toward the gym doors in a mass exodus. “I guess this means we’re free to go to English. Thank God!” Caroline shouted.
“Come on, let’s go before Louden starts preaching again,” I added, laughing.
“Hey, Evey! Hey, Caroline!”
I turned in the direction of the voice. Kristen stood on the gymnasium floor, waving wildly. “Hey!” I called to her. “Wait for us!” We jumped down the remaining bleachers, catching up with her quickly.
“Did y’all have a good summer?” she asked.
“It was pretty good. We had a few interesting customers in the diner,” I answered. “We missed you!”
“I missed y’all too!”
“What about you?” Caroline asked.
“I know summer was only a couple months, but I felt like I spent an eternity in Maine. My grandmother insisted I spend my entire vacation with her,” Kristen groaned.
“That sucks,” I said.
“Tell me about it! Do either of you have Advanced French first period?”
“Nope, we’ve both got English,” Caroline replied.
“Boo.” Kristen pouted.
“We’ll walk with you to class though!” Caroline added.
As Kristen moved to loop her arm through mine, she hit the strap of my messenger bag, jerking it from my shoulder. The bag crashed against the floor, spitting out my belongings in every direction. Lip gloss, paper clips, hairpins, and a pack of mints scattered around me. “Y’all go on without me. I’ll catch up in a minute,” I said, dropping to my knees.
“You sure? I can stay and help,” Caroline replied.
“Nah, you go on. I’ll see you in a minute. Besides, aren’t you always telling me I carry around too much crap?”
“True.” She grabbed Kristen’s arm. “See you in a bit.”
I scrambled, frantically trying to gather my stuff as quickly as possible. Scooping up a final bobby pin, I was suddenly struck with the strange feeling that I was being watched. By now, I had to be the only soul left in the gym, but when I looked up, there was a stranger leaning against the far wall. His arms were crossed over his chest nonchalantly. My gaze slid upward, halting as his stare met mine. He had the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. Blood coursed through my veins, causing my heart to pound. The prisoner from my nightmares stood before me, mere feet separating us. He seemed too real to be a wild hallucination. My hands grabbed my bag, swinging it over my shoulder so forcefully that I lost my balance. Turning around, I quickly regained a stable footing, but when I glanced back to where he’d been standing, he had disappeared. Sprinting into the hallway, I searched in both directions, but the man from my dreams wasn’t there. He was gone.
Blog Tour

Legend of Song de Light

Guest Post

a painting’s sensory composition by Kaitlynzq

dream in-real time  
ocean in the sky
sky within the ocean



nature’s vital heart beats
lyrics of lovecontu
a stream of words

In the series Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu

A series that interweaves interior elements from the stories together like gentle hugs to one’s heart from Ancient Script of Lovecontu audio poem, a vocal surround of unique instrumental notes from Legend of Song de Light audio book, layers of quiet a cappella from inside of Legend of Song de Light audio play, to petal soft pink glows that hum throughout the hours
held within Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu audio set.

This link will guide you to the audio streams of the vocal recording for this extended and expanded upon scene of moments whispered about in the notes in Legend of Song de Light audio book, and Legend of Song de Light audio play, and held within lovecontu tru’adreyam time signature.

For the audio version on my audio streams:

And, for the audio streams and text version on my blog:

Legend of Song de Light audio book is included in the series of interconnected stories Lovecontu Song de Light Lovecontu. A series of interior connections of lovecontu with feather light whispers of love, sonic palettes of radiant-ambient colors, and songs from within of continuance.

Reviews for Legend of Song de Light audio book

“…the author creates this book of intimate passions, you have what will soon become one of your favorite audio books. The author effectively draws you into each character’s scene and sets them (the characters) up individually and as a unit. You are allowed to discover their personalities and passions. I found myself envisioning each room, each touch and each emotion the author pulled out of her characters…” by Kay with KayBee’s Bookshelf

“…This stunningly original composition is heartbreaking yet uplifting and not to be missed…” by Lynda with Books Direct

“Kaitlynzq puts together a magnificent “song” with her words of Legend of Song de Light…The music in the background was chosen perfectly as it almost danced around her words…” by Amy with Amy’s Bookshelf Reviews

“Wonderful imagery and compelling tales!…Kaitlynzq’s storytelling technique in Legend of Song de Light is quite unique. …There is an artistic take on fiction, heightened by the effects of poetry, photography and ballet expressed in each tale…” by Marie with Writing in the Modern Age

“Excellent book I really loved it.” by Nancy

Vocal Synopsis

Information for the audio book:  Recorded in Kaitlynzq’s voice with a blend of music like a heart’s wave into downloadable mp3 files.

Available to Purchase at: 

Author Information

My fictional stories are written from the inside view
of a character’s interior heart-that

beautiful, vulnerable, intimate space
feelings, desires, needs, dreams

a blend of

delicate feather ripples of heart waves
needs, feelings, dreams, desires
quiet, gentle heart strings
tender, continuous
soft, vulnerable air mist
circles, weaves to caress
a sonic sea of heart’s breath

Woven into audio books that are recorded in my voice with a medley of music as a heart’s wave into downloadable mp3 files; audio plays adapted from the audio books, and layered into pdf files like a heart’s song; audio poems that are multiple poems designed to connect to form a story as a heart’s breath; and audio sets that are sets of these interconnected stories with elements from each story that interweave in one another as heart’s wave, heart’s song, heart’s breath.

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Lucky In Lugano by Kat Mizera

Are you feeling lucky?
Lucky in Lugano by Kat Mizera releases on August 13th!
A fantastic beach read series! Only 99c!

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Not all first loves are lucky enough to get a second chance…

Talented orthopedic surgeon Dr. Grant Jergenson finds himself part of a special residency program in Switzerland. The last thing he expects while spending a year abroad is to be reunited with the woman who broke his heart four years ago.

Newly divorced, Sophia Lakkas has made a lot of mistakes in life, but her biggest regret by far was walking away from the only man she ever truly loved. When a trip to Lugano to help with her sister’s baby brings them face to face, old flames burn bright.

As Grant and Sophia work to forget the past, they find that the future is also full of obstacles. Can Grant keep the woman he loves without sacrificing his career or is one of them going to walk away again… making this second chance their last.


Wild Tendy by Toni Aleo

Wild Tendy by Toni Aleo is coming on August 27th!

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Nico Merryweather loves women—all women. Sure, they’re sexy and fun. But “Player” is an easy reputation to hide behind, a way to keep the good times rolling and reality at bay. He’s loud, he’s cocky, he says exactly what he’s thinking, and people just laugh it off because they think they know him. But Nico makes sure no one is close enough to know the truth. With a new season starting, he is ready to play the game he can control. They’ll all be watching Nico, the goalie, but they’ll never know the man behind the mask who is just trying to breathe. He hasn’t ever wanted anyone close enough to him to see the truth, until Aviva rams herself into his ass. Literally.

Aviva Pearce’s life is a collection of bad days all wrapped up without a bow. If it can go wrong, it will. All she wants is to run her business, take care of her sister, and keep her head above water. But with a father who is out to ruin her like he has himself and debt trying to drown her, it’s hard to stay afloat. Aviva isn’t the type to waste time dwelling on her misfortunes or to give up, though. She’s got too much fight in her. And she definitely doesn’t have time to waste on the wildly sexy, rich, showboating goaltender everyone wants. She’s got goals.

What she doesn’t know is that Nico has goals of his own.

And she’s number one on his list.

Cover Designer: Lori Jackson Design
Cover Photography: FuriousFotog