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The Sins of Luther by Ember Michaels

– NEW DARK ROMANCE! –
The Sins of Luther by Ember Michaels is now live!
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He thought making me pay was the answer.
But he has just as much blood on his hands as I do.

After seven years, Luther Evans came back for me.
He tore my life apart piece by piece, set on evening the score for what I’d done to his sister.
But I had a weapon of my own—the truth, which revealed that Luther isn’t as innocent as he believes he is.
His violence planted a seed of hate.
His callousness pushed me into the same darkness that dwelled inside of him.
And now, I was his perfect little monster to carry out the new part of his plan.
In order to save my own life, I had to make a blood sacrifice.
But I also had a hit list of my own.
The streets of Miami will be stained with blood by the time this is over—and no one would be safe.
Including him.


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About Ember Michaels:

Ember Michaels is a dark fiction author from South Carolina. When she’s not writing, you can find her binge-watching crime shows, hanging at the beach, and devouring books from her favorite authors! Be sure to follow her on social media!

Facebook: bit.ly/EmberMFB
Twitter: bit.ly/EmberMT
Instagram: bit.ly/EmberMIG
Website: https://www.embermichaels.com/

Release Blitz

YELLOW THORNS (FREE PREQUEL) by Rina Kent


 

💛 𝔸𝕧𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 ℕ𝕠𝕨 💛

𝗬𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝗯𝘆 𝗥𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘀𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀! 𝗗𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗰 𝗙𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝗗𝘂𝗲𝘁!

💛What to expect:
Dark New Adult ✔️
All the college shenanigans ✔️
A screwed-up star quarterback ✔️
A badass cheerleader ✔️
Dubious situations ✔️

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💛Yellow Thorns Blurb💛

Blurred. Wrong. Taboo.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not the first look.
Not the first kiss.
And definitely not the first run.
But it did.
She ran for it.
And now, my beast will come out to play.
Uncategorized

Allmother Rising

Allmother Rising
by Elexis Bell
Genre: Dark Fantasy with Straight and LGBTQ Romance
A broken-hearted priestess and a deposed prince team up with a ranger and a rebel with one too many secrets. In the name of The Allmother, they go to war to save their lands.
A coup in a neighboring kingdom brings threats of invasion and fire to Priestess Rising Veliana’s home in the forest. Under the guidance of her goddess, The Allmother, she forms an alliance with the deposed prince, Tyrvahn, and his ex, Garle, the leader of a rebellion that’s been brewing for years.
But Garle has many secrets, one of which could unravel Veliana and Tyrvahn’s budding romance and the future of these uneasy alliances. Veliana’s best friend, Kivala, tries to soften Garle with the ways of their fallen homeland, but what she learns chills her to her core.
At war with a vicious man twisted by the god of greed, they can’t afford to fight amongst themselves. Can they overcome their differences to save their home and their goddess from the new king? Or will the forests burn over blood-soaked earth?
Fans of magic and grit, high stakes and godly secrets will love this dark high fantasy novel with straight and LGBT romance.
**Only .99 cents until June 1st!!**
Elexis Bell writes gritty and emotional novels. Born and raised in the midwestern United States, she dreams of a cabin in the woods rather than a house surrounded by cornfields.
She loves writing well-developed characters facing real problems in vibrant, magical worlds. Armed with a degree in psychology and a rollercoaster past, she sprinkles gut-wrenching emotions over high fantasy romance, science fiction, and the occasional thriller.
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Alpha by Sybil Bartel

Alpha
Sybil Bartel
(The Alpha Elite, #1)
Publication date: May 24th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

Billionaire.

Mercenary.

Navy SEAL.

The Teams trained me to be a killer. War taught me to be ruthless. Then an ill-fated mission proved I was human. Combat wounded, The Navy cut me loose. I had a choice. Fade into obscurity or use the skills I had.

Alpha Elite Security was born and three years later, my company was the most sought after security contractor in the world. Five global locations, ten company jets, every one of my employees military trained—we were the best of the best. Overseeing operations, I didn’t have time for women, or anything other than growing my company. My success rate unmatched, I’d never lost a client.

Then I got a call, the only call that would get me back in the field. She was missing. The woman I’d left behind seven years ago. Now I had one objective.

Code name: Alpha.
Mission: Extraction.

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EXCERPT:

Ignoring the glances from women shopping by themselves, I cut across the front of the market and rounded the corner on the last aisle.

Then I stopped dead in my tracks.

Jesus.

Blonde, ethereal, delicate, and more beautiful than I remembered, the only woman I’d ever loved stood mere feet away from me in a pale green dress.

Staring, my heart pounding, the air in my lungs nonexistent, all I could think was how unforgivably selfish I’d been on the worst day of her life.

I deserved her hate, but I told myself that was seven years ago. Time was on my side, and it’d been long enough. She had to forgive me.

Move, Trefor.

Make the move.

As if sensing my presence, she suddenly looked over her shoulder, her gaze landing exactly where I stood.

But she didn’t look up at me.

Not all the way.

Her head slightly dipped, her gaze cast down as if staring at my legs, her emerald green eyes didn’t meet mine.

Fuck this.

I stepped forward.

Author Bio:

Sybil Bartel is a USA Today Bestselling author of unapologetic alpha heroes. Whether you’re reading her deliciously dominant mercenaries, bodyguards or military heroes, all of her heart-stopping, page-turning romantic suspense novels have sexy-as-sin alpha heroes!

Sybil resides in South Florida and she is forever Oliver’s mom.

To find out more about Sybil Bartel or her books, please visit her at:

Website / Twitter / Instagram / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Bookbub / Newsletter


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This Vow

Title: This Vow

Series: This Love, Book Two

Author: J.R. Hart

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/24/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 59100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Romance, contemporary, family-drama, wedding, apartment fire, recipes, chef, established couple

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Description

Nicholas and Alex know one thing for sure: they want to spend their lives together, and now that they’re engaged, they can start planning their big day to make that happen. The only hitch? Both of them have very different ideas on what that means. Nicholas has been all about a grand wedding since he was a teen, carefully planning every detail from floral arrangements to the perfect cake. He has big dreams and a bigger budget to make it happen. But Alex? Despite finding the love of his life, he’s still a little jaded, and he’d rather elope at the local courthouse, keeping the start of their married life low-key. Can they set aside their different ideas on their big wedding and compromise to make it the wedding of their dreams, or will a major tragedy be the final blow after they struggle to see eye-to-eye?

Excerpt

This Vow J.R. Hart © 2021 All Rights Reserved Prologue “Nicholas, there’s a fire, in the kitchen! We have to go!” Bleary-eyed from sleep, Nicholas didn’t grasp what Alex was saying. “Fire?” He didn’t comprehend the box of recipes in his hand, why Alex was shoving them at him frantically. Drowsiness from cold medication and the deep sleepfulness of his nap didn’t help matters, a slur of loud, blaring alarms sounding in his mind as he tried to pay attention to what Alex was telling him. “In the kitchen! We have to get out of here, Nicholas. Carry the recipes! Let’s go!” Alex insisted. Fire? His brain repeated the word. Fire. Fire! Oh gosh. He glanced around him, trying to take stock of what they might be able to save. “Okay, um…” They had to get their things, important memories and items from around the apartment. Why was Alex in the bedroom instead of grabbing their photos off the walls and the box of notes they’d written each other early in their relationship out of the closet? “Nicholas, we don’t have time to get stuff. It’s spreading too fast. We have to go.” Nicholas followed Alex’s eyeline up to the smoke entering the bedroom, watching as he raced toward the living room, and the urgency finally started to click into place. A fire. An actual fire. Not the hypothetical “what three items would you save in a fire?” kind of situation, but a real-life, honest-to-God fire. “Oh no.” Stumbling out of the bedroom and closing the door out of habit, he could see the flames now, the bright-orange flickers of light in the kitchen. He started toward the source of it, the location of most of his prized possessions, but Alex yanked him back by the arm. “Crawl!” Alex urged him. “We have to crawl over there.” Alex ducked down, tugging his shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. Nicholas followed suit, grasping the recipe box and moving ahead, trying to get to the door and open it while Alex scanned the room. Halfway there, the half wall dividing the kitchen from the entryway shook with a loud bang. Something in the kitchen exploded. “Oh my God!” Alex yelped. “What was that?” Nicholas assumed the explosion came from some pressurized can like cooking spray, or the bottle of their favorite whiskey they enjoyed on poker nights with the girls. His brain lagged behind the urgency of the situation, focused on the things being consumed by the fire creeping closer. “I don’t know!” Alex’s words jarred him back into the moment. “Let’s go to the balcony,” he pleaded. The fire escape there hadn’t worked in years, but Nicholas agreed that outside, regardless of a way down, was the safer bet. If anything, they could breathe fresh air out there instead of toxic smoke in their apartment. Alex crawled in the other direction and Nicholas followed, watching Alex slide the glass door open and let him through. Both of them stood and closed the door to seal the blaze behind them. “Now what?” If the fire got any closer, Nicholas figured the heat could shatter the glass. Was it the movie Backdraft that happened in? He didn’t know why his mind focused on Hollywood hypotheticals instead of on the reality of what was happening to his home, his life. Maybe because his brain was on a delay, hadn’t fully registered the intensity of the situation. Alex pushed their mostly dead succulents in front of the door and nestled Nicholas against the railing of the balcony that didn’t line up with the glass, putting them out of harm’s way. He must have been thinking the same thing about the glass shattering. “Call 9-1-1,” Nicholas told Alex. Drilled into his head from countless school fire safety classes, he didn’t have to even think. But then the reality of what was happening hit him all over again. A lot of their beloved belongings continued to burn. Maybe they had time… “We forgot—” “Nicholas, we can’t go back in,” Alex reminded him. “Whatever we’ve forgotten, it’s not important.” Right. Good enough. Getting out alive had to be good enough. Nicholas nodded, tearing up as Alex pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What are you doing?” “Telling Jade to pull the building fire alarm,” he said. Their own smoke alarm only sounded in their apartment, barely loud enough for the neighboring apartments to hear. This was a good thing when the alarm sounded for minor problems, like grease popping around eggs, but not a great feature when it came to a real fire. Then, Alex’s voice switched to no-nonsense mode as he called 9-1-1, waiting till he was connected and then explaining the fire to the dispatcher. Nicholas could hear the fire alarms blaring clearly now. Jade must have done as he asked. From the balcony, Nicholas saw the edges of the flames licking at the picture they’d hung on the wall after their engagement. He turned away. He couldn’t bear to look at the fire taking away everything they owned, every precious memory they’d shared in the apartment. Looking down at the ground, he spotted people filtering out of the front doors of the building, staring up to them on the balcony above. “What the heck happened?” “I was trying to make you soup,” Alex admitted, followed by, “I’m so sorry.” The guilt in his voice was palpable, breaking Nicholas’s heart. “Baby, it’s all right.” As the trucks backed up, ladders extending, Alex cried against him, his free arm around him. Alex sobbed harder than Nicholas had ever seen him cry. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated and then he turned toward the ladder, heading down with Nicholas climbing after him, cradling the recipes in his arm. He listened to the sound of the crackle through the sliding glass door as the contents of their lives went up in smoke.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

J R Hart is a queer 30-something novelist passionate about telling romantic and erotic stories about LGBT+ characters. When J R isn’t writing, you can find her at the science museum with her son, cheering for her favorite soccer team, or at The Bean Coffee Co plotting her next work. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram as @jrhartauthor, or on her website at jrhartauthor.com.

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Training Tracey

Training Tracey
by L.M. Mountford
Genre: Erotic Romance
I know it’s wrong to want my best friend’s dad… but what about when his wife offers to share?
Tracey has known the Burtons practically all her life.
They’re her best friend’s parents.
When she was a little girl they took her on days out to the beach. But she’s a woman now, and they have some very important lessons to teach her…
** Training Tracey is A wicked and uber-hot coming-of-age menage, filled with MF, FF & MFF scenes from the Lord of Lust’s Dark and Dirty alter ego. There is NO cheating, NO cliffhanger and a guaranteed HEA with plenty of steam.**
WARNING 18+: This book is erotic and contains material that includes graphic language and adult situations.
A self-confessed tiger fanatic, L.M. Mountford was born and raised in England, first in the town of Bridgwater, Somerset, before later moving to the city of Gloucester where he currently resides. A fully qualified and experienced scuba diver, he has travelled across Europe and Africa diving wrecks and seeing the wonders of the world.
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Release Blitz

The Dragon Bond

Title: The Dragon Bond

Author: Elizabeth Coldwell

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/24/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 21800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, estranged couple, holidays, tattoos, tear-jerker, reunited, contemporary m/m romance

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Description

When Trey tells Rainn he’s giving him a very special Christmas gift, he never dreams it will be a tattoo. The matching dragons on their bodies is the sign of a bond never to be broken – at least that’s the plan, until a sudden moment of violence changes everything and Rainn and Trey’s relationship is torn apart. Returning to his hometown after seven years, Rainn finds that everything is different now, not least where Trey is concerned. Having moved in with his cousin, Marcie, and her husband, Dave, he tries to pick up the threads of his old life as best he can and make the most of the second chance he’s been given. The holiday season is a time for remembrance and forgiveness for past mistakes, and while volunteering at a Christmas dinner for the homeless, Rainn has an unexpected opportunity to rekindle the bond between himself and Trey.

Excerpt

The Dragon Bond Elizabeth Coldwell © 2021 All Rights Reserved December 23, 2009 He would remember this evening for the rest of his life. The strings of colored lights twinkling in the window, the industrial rock playing on the battered old boom box and, most of all, the scratch of the needle as it traced over his shoulder blade. It hurt, but not in the way he’d been expecting. This was a good pain, not like the time he’d fallen while climbing a tree at the age of six and broken his wrist. That had been agony, and even though the fracture had long since healed, he still recalled how he’d yelled for his mom as he nursed his injured arm. Now, as the tattoo artist continued to work and the machine buzzed, endorphins kicked in and Rainn felt high, the way he did when he ran for miles through the woods surrounding the town. Still, he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this. When he and Trey met up, Rainn had expected their usual Friday night out. A couple of beers at O’Malley’s and then a good, hard, bedspring-rattling fuck in Trey’s apartment or Rainn’s bedroom in the home he shared with his mother. Even, if they couldn’t wait until they made it to either of those places, the back seat of Trey’s car. So, when Trey turned to him, blue eyes shining, and said, “I’ve got something special in mind for us. It’s my Christmas present to you,” he hadn’t known what to expect. As they drove, Trey went on, “You know this is our six-month anniversary, right?” Rainn nodded. He couldn’t believe the time had passed so quickly since the night he’d looked up from the pool table in the back room of O’Malley’s and seen the tall, dark-haired stranger standing in the doorway, clutching a bottle of Sam Adams. When their eyes met, Rainn had felt an instant connection. He knew it sounded crazy to talk about love at first sight—that didn’t exist outside those soppy Hallmark movies his mom watched—but even then, he’d known this guy was the one. He hadn’t bothered to finish his game of pool. He’d stuck his cue back in the rack on the wall, walked over to the stranger, and said, “I’ve not seen you in here before.” Not much of a pickup line, but it had worked. Five minutes later, he and Trey had been sitting at one of the bar’s rickety tables, talking and laughing like they’d known each other all their short lives. They’d had their first kiss on the way out to Trey’s cherry-red Nova. They hadn’t stopped kissing, or laughing, since. “So, you’re taking me for dinner at that fancy French place on Cooper Street?” Rainn asked, pondering the nature of Trey’s surprise. “Or maybe you’ve booked us into that swanky B and B over in Winchester, the one where they bring you breakfast in bed in the morning?” Trey snorted. “On my wages? You know I’d love to, Rainn, but even with the overtime I’m putting in right now—” Trey had a job in the canning plant on the road out to Winchester, stacking boxes in the delivery warehouse. Hard work had given him a physique Rainn never tired of admiring, with firm biceps and a flat, well-toned belly, but it didn’t pay anywhere near well enough for expensive treats. “It’s okay, I’m only teasing,” Rainn assured him. “As long as I have you, I’d be happy with a ham and swiss on rye at Dottie’s diner and a night camping out under the stars.” “Well, it’s the wrong time of year for sleeping under canvas,” Trey pointed out. “There’s snow on the ground, or hadn’t you noticed?” “When you’re around, I can’t pay attention to anything else but you. So, come on, what’s the surprise?” “Another minute and we’ll be there. Oh great, looks like there’s a parking spot right outside…” Trey flashed his turn signal and brought the car to a halt. The part of Prospect they were in had seen better times. Many of the stores on this stretch of Main Street had signs on the windows advertising clearance sales or, in the case of what had been a video rental place, had gone out of business altogether. At first, Rainn couldn’t understand why Trey would bring him here. Was he trying to score drugs for the two of them, or get them both robbed? Then Rainn registered the name on the storefront where they’d parked—Hellheart Ink—and the vivid designs etched on the plate glass window. “This…is a tattoo parlor.” “Well, ten out of ten for the deduction work, Sherlock.” Trey grinned and pushed a stray lock of black hair out of his eyes. “Come on. Our appointment’s for seven o’clock sharp, and Hunter doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” “You booked us…” Rainn sat, trying to process what Trey had said. Hadn’t he once told Trey he hated the fad for tattoos? All those Chinese characters that didn’t mean what their wearer thought they did, and those cheap-looking tramp stamps so many girls had inked just above the crack of their ass… There’s making a bad decision, and then there’s making one that’s bad and permanent. No thank you. “I don’t want to go ahead with this.” “I know what you said, Rainn, but Hunter’s an artist. And I’ve asked him for a design that means something to us. Something to show how strong the bond between us really is.” Trey placed his hand on Rainn’s and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “A good tattoo doesn’t fade, and neither will my love for you.” Coming from anyone else, the line would have made Rainn throw up in his mouth a little, but he knew Trey to be sincere. “So, this design…” “We’ll talk about it inside. Hey, you trust me, don’t you?” Trey got out of the car before Rainn could make any other objections. Sighing, and still unsure he was doing the right thing, Rainn unbuckled his seat belt before following Trey inside the store. Hellheart Ink was brightly lit, with a couch running along one wall where clients could wait for their appointments, and posters showing all manner of tattoo designs, from well-known cartoon characters to elaborate Celtic knots. Rainn tried his best to ignore the faint antiseptic smell of the room and the anxiety churning in his gut. You trust me, don’t you? Of course, he did. What he and Trey had was special, and he knew his lover wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or make any decision on his behalf that might have unpleasant consequences. “Hey, how can I help you?” The short, shaven-headed man who greeted them was a walking billboard for his own services. He wore a black tank top that revealed both his arms were tattooed all the way to his shoulders, and his left earlobe was stretched by a silver tunnel piercing. “I’m Hunter.” “Trey. And this is Rainn.” Trey gestured to Rainn, who uttered a quiet hello. “We have an appointment for seven o’clock.” “Sure, come through.” As Hunter led them deeper into the shop, Rainn wondered if there was time to change their minds. Does Trey really want to go through with this? Do I? The back room of the shop contained an industrial black tattooing chair, designed to allow the person being inked to sit in comfort while giving Hunter access to all parts of their body, and padded bench seating along one wall. Trey and Rainn sat, while Hunter picked up a ring binder and set it on the bench beside Trey. “Before we go any further,” Hunter said, “I need to make sure neither of you is under the influence of drink or drugs right now. If you are, then I’m sorry but, legally, I can’t tattoo you.” “No, we’re both good,” Trey assured him. “Great, well, why don’t you take a look through the designs and find something you like?” “Oh, I already know what we want,” Trey said, surprising Rainn even further. “This one here.” He had flipped through the pages of the binder, and now he pointed to a stylized image of a Chinese dragon in solid black, with long, sinuous curves and a burst of flame issuing from its snout. “Good choice,” Hunter commented. Why a dragon? Rainn wanted to ask, but Trey was already outlining the reasons for his choice. “Yeah, I like it because it’s simple but it’s classy, you know? And I read somewhere the dragon is supposed to be the Chinese symbol of good luck and prosperity—and we could all do with a bit of that, right?” He winked at Rainn. “But most important, Rainn and I were both born in 1988, which is the year of the dragon.” “Is that right?” Rainn had never paid the least attention to horoscopes or fortune-telling or any of that mumbo jumbo. Basing your life around something that might happen simply because you’d been born on a certain day of the year didn’t make any sense to him. Trey nodded. “And I wanted something special to both of us. To show we have a bond that can’t be broken.” “Okay, so now we’ve decided on the design, which one of you is going first?” Hunter asked. “I will.” Rainn hadn’t realized he’d spoken until the words were out. He hadn’t intended on volunteering, but deep down he must have wanted to get this over with. “Right, if you want to get in the chair and make yourself comfortable.” Hunter started looking through his stencils to find the one he needed; then he turned back to Rainn. “Wait, where did you say you wanted the tattoo again?” “I didn’t.” Before Trey could make the decision for him, Rainn said, “On my shoulder blade.” That way, if he had any regrets, the tattoo wouldn’t be somewhere he could see it unless he looked in the mirror. More importantly, it wouldn’t alert other people to how foolish he’d been to let Trey talk him into this. “Sure. And the same for you?” Hunter looked over at Trey. “Yeah.” Trey smiled at Rainn as he spoke. “Exactly the same.” Rainn had stripped off his shirt and sat in the chair so that his back faced outward. “Right, the first thing I’m going to do is clean the area…” He caught a faint smell of rubbing alcohol before Hunter wiped the skin he was about to tattoo. Then the stencil was applied to his shoulder. Rainn took deep, slow breaths, doing his best to center himself. This would only hurt more if he was tense. Hunter set rock music playing, the beat heavy and insistent. It did nothing to drown out the high-pitched buzz of the tattoo machine somewhere near Rainn’s ear. “I’m not going to tell you this isn’t going to hurt,” Hunter said, “but if it gets too much for you at any point, I want you to be sure and let me know.” The needle bit into his skin, and Rainn swallowed a curse. For a moment, heat flared in his nerve endings, but then it died away, only for the sensation to be repeated a split second later. At first, he didn’t know how he would endure this. Then the pain ebbed and sweetened, and he realized everything was going to be fine. Trey wouldn’t make him face something he couldn’t handle. Like he’d said when they’d walked in, this was all about trust. Tears pricked Rainn’s eyes, and he swiped them away, hoping Trey hadn’t noticed. “You okay there, buddy?” Hunter asked, concern clear in his tone. His voice sounded like it came from a long way away. Rainn supposed it wasn’t unusual for people to cry on the tattoo table, but it wasn’t pain making him emotional. It was love for Trey, pure and simple. “I’m fine,” he muttered and closed his eyes.

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NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Elizabeth Coldwell is a multi-published author and the former editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine, where she was responsible for publishing a number of now very well-known authors for the first time, as well as honing her own writing. She lives in East London, is a season ticket holder at Rotherham United, and a keen cook. Her recipe for peanut butter brownies is available if you ask nicely… Learn more on Elizabeth’s Website.

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Disaster Girl by Michelle Dayton

The only thing Tess knows better than walking into a disaster is digging herself out of one. But when she becomes the victim of a revenge porn site, she needs help — from brilliant and sexy hacker, Max. Falling for him could lead to another epic disaster…

Readers who love Christian Lauren and Jasmine Guillory will love this spicy, humorous contemporary romance.

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Synopsis 

Tess Greene knows disaster—dating disasters, computer disasters, family disasters, you name it. But just when her life is finally almost perfect, she’s targeted by an internet celebrity who runs a revenge porn site admired by douchebags across the country. She has one month before the entire world will have an up-close-and-personal view of her sexual history. Tess has always handled everything on her own, but for this disaster, she needs backup.

Max Hampshire, a brilliant hacker, is exactly the lifeline Tess needs. What she doesn’t need is Max himself. She does not need his quick wit, sexy black-framed glasses, or all-around sweetness. The last guy who helped Tess left with his life crushed and his heart broken, so she knows that staying far away from Max would be safer for everyone.

But safety isn’t really an option when dealing with sleazy predators—or love… 

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Excerpt 

Copyright 2021 @Michelle Dayton

He looked between the lash and my face, laughing along with me. “Ditto.”

He blew the lash away very deliberately. Had he made a wish? Did wishes made on false lashes count? “Lie on your stomach,” he said.

Curious, I obeyed, curling my toes over the end of the mattress. Max pulled the sheet down, exposing my bare back. “You have a tramp stamp.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“You already knew that from the countdown picture on the Sex Ghost website.” I tried to yank the sheet back up to cover the tattoo at the base of my spine, but he wouldn’t let me.

“When did you get it?” he asked, dancing his fingers over the decorated skin.

I snorted. “When every girl gets a tramp stamp. I was eighteen.”

“Why did you choose an anchor?”

Normally, I deflected when someone asked this question. I’d say, “I just liked the design” or “I have a pirate fetish” or “I dream of sailing around the world someday.” I always found it kind of funny-sad that no one ever looked at me skeptically and commented that none of my explanations sounded like me.

Maybe that was why I didn’t lie to Max. If he hadn’t been skeptical, I would have been so disappointed. Which would have been idiotic since I’d known him for a matter of weeks.

Daniel and Kat were the only two people to whom I’d tried to explain why I’d chosen that particular image. Daniel had immediately co-opted the meaning, which I didn’t appreciate. Kat didn’t really understand, but that was my fault because my explanation to her was incomplete.

So I didn’t lie to Max. I didn’t tell the truth either though. Instead, I deftly changed the subject. I gave a dramatic sigh. “I’d like you to know that the phrase ‘tramp stamp’ was not in the common vernacular when I was eighteen. If it had been, I would not have chosen to get a tattoo on my lower back.”

I was rewarded with his laugh. His hand rubbed harder, from the base of my spine all the way up to my neck. I arched my back like a cat. I hadn’t had an unprofessional back rub in years. I meant to make a flirtatious comment, something along the lines of “You’re good with your hands.” But what actually popped out was “I like the way you touch me.”

I immediately stiffened. That sounded both goofy and way too serious. I should probably get up and go now. It was definitely time to make a graceful exit. But Max just chuckled again and lay next to me, so close that we brushed against one another from shoulder to toe.

“Good.”

About Michelle Dayton 

There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage.

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Give Me Grace

Title: Give Me Grace

Author: Bethany A. Perry

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/24/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 85300

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, urban fantasy lgbt, contemporary fantasy, witch urban fantasy, demon paranormal, demon witch, demon lgbt, lgbt fantasy fiction, friends to lovers, nuns, magic, amnesia fantasy, angels

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Description

It’s been six weeks since Halloween. Six weeks since Grace stumbled into the ER, almost dead and begging for help. Six weeks since she lost every single memory, including her own name. Taken in by the mysterious Sisters of the Order of Saint Raphael the Healer, Grace’s wounds are dressed and she is assured her memories will return—in time. But does Grace want her memories back? Maybe she’s chosen to forget them, maybe there’s a reason. The sisters hide things from her. They whisper things about her. When a demon forces its way into the convent, it declares that Grace is a demon too. Grace demands answers. Answers that may reveal not only who she is, but that the sisters might not be who they say they are, either.

Excerpt

Give Me Grace Bethany A. Perry © 2021 All Rights Reserved Grace knelt on the kneeling bar, whatever it was the sisters called it, and folded her hands together behind the pew in front of her. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Sister Monica.” The novice nun kneeling beside her shook her head a millimeter, her curls almost bursting through her headscarf, and clenched her hands tighter. Her lips moved over a prayer, her eyes squinched closed. Grace grinned and scooted closer. She did close her eyes, though, making a clumsy sign of the cross over her shoulders. An approximation, at least. Her inability to get it right exasperated the sisters on a damn near hilarious level. “Are we doing your coming-of-age ceremony today?” Monica’s lips stopped moving, and she pressed them together. They didn’t disappear into nothingness the way the mother made hers do, but by the time Mon was Mother Mary’s age, she’d be able to do it better. She leaned, her umber skin mellow in the low light of the sanctuary, and whispered so quiet Grace had to listen with all she had to catch it. “Either shut up and pray or leave and meet me in your room.” Grace swallowed, the blood rushing to her cheeks. “Sorry, Mon. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to take communion with you, if you were going to take your vows.” Mouth dropping open, Monica turned to her. “Why would you want to do that?” Her voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling, the walls, and the windows, including the lone stained-glass window in the sanctuary. One of the other sisters, Eliana probably, shushed. The shush was so sharp it may have cut the air as it sped across the cavernous room. Monica stood, stuffing her rosary under her robes, and grabbed Grace above the elbow. She tugged, not unkindly. Grace held her abs with one hand and stood. The twinge as she did brought back her first memory with force. The splat-splat-splat of her own intestines as they hit the floor of the hospital emergency room. Everything before that moment, including how she’d been gutted, was a deep well of nothing. Her next memory, which was much nicer, was of Monica, sitting next to her hospital bed and assuring her that her full memory would return in time. As the sanctuary doors closed, the chilly hallway enveloped them. The morning sun hadn’t had a chance to penetrate it yet, and the walls radiated last night’s cold. Grace shivered and shook her head to clear it of the slapping sound her guts had made when they hit the tile. For all the good it’d do. “Sorry. I thought you were going to get your habit today and stuff. Take your vows. All that.” Monica shook her head with a frown. “Mother Mary told me I’m not ready yet. I guess I have more study to do.” Still walking, she looked Grace up and down. “How’re your wounds?” “Healing.” “You’re a fast healer.” “Only because you help me.” She rubbed the scar below her stomach. “Glad we finally got the bandages off. How long have I been here again?” “The Order took you in from the hospital about”—she drew out the u, squeezing her eyes closed—“six weeks ago?” “Weird. I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than that.” They turned a corner, bright sun flooding the next hallway—Grace’s favorite hallway—dust motes dancing along the shafts, and stopped before the only other stained-glass window in the place. Raphael the Archangel stood outlined in pinks and blues, gold shining all around his head and shoulders, what the sisters called his halo. His glowing hands rested on the heads of two penitents who knelt before him, their eyes bleeding. Monica smiled. “The feeling’s mutual.” Cheeks tinged red, she crossed herself, curtsied to Raphael, and continued down the hall. Grace cast a glance at the window. Raphael’s face wore an out-of-place expression of serenity while blessing two people who cried tears of blood. Despite the eyes, she found peace in the scene. She caught up to Monica, running her hand through the two inches of hair on her head, the healing scar a line slashed through it. “That library is the darkest room in this convent. You’d think they’d want windows so you could actually see the words in the books.” “The books are old, Grace. They’d react badly to sunlight. We’ve had this conversation.” She stopped, one hand on an enormous door handle. “Did you want to keep me company today?” “I was serious about the communion, Mon.” Grace bit her lip. Six weeks’ worth of changing bandages and chatting and following her around the convent made Grace feel close to Sister Monica. Like a real friend. This ceremony was a Big Deal to Mon, and Mon was a Big Deal to Grace. It only seemed right to do it with her, even if she wasn’t Catholic. Monica eased the creaking door open. “I’ll speak to Mother Mary.” With the hand not holding the door, she brushed her fingertips along Grace’s cheek. Grace’s heart tripped a beat. Something about the way her fingers moved like butterfly feet made Grace lose her breath. “Thank you. You’re a good friend. I hope you’re still here when I take my vows.” Brows knit, Grace peeked into the library. She lowered her voice. “Where would I go? I don’t even remember who I am, much less where home is.” Monica shrugged, her robes shifting with a soft sigh. “If your memory comes back, you’ll probably want to leave.” She sucked a sharp breath over her teeth. “Not that I don’t want you to get your memory back. I just meant—” “I know. I hope I’m still here too.” Grace smiled, lips stretched tight. “If I remember who I am before then, I’ll come back just to share your communion. Okay?” Frowning, Monica lowered her eyes. “I’d like that.”

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Meet the Author

Bethany is a southern transplant in the west, where she’s made her home with her kids, partner, pets, and several hostages…er…houseplants she hasn’t killed yet. Poetry was her first love, and she’s been writing since she could hold a pencil. Horror is her sweet spot, but all things sci-fi and fantasy are also deeply entrenched in her heart.

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