Excerpts and Author Bio’s
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Is it possible for a heart to break twice?
Lacy had known from finding out what Michael was that there would be complications, but she never expected they’d be torn apart in such a cruel way. Unable to stop herself feeling the things she did, she knew she would pay for falling in love with an angel, but this. . . If it hurt this much, then how could she go on without him?
He’d feared this would happen.
Michael’s nightmares had come true and he hadn’t even had chance to say goodbye. His heart ached like he never thought possible, but he was powerless to change what had happened. Now he was trapped in the heavens awaiting a trial that he already knew the outcome of. Through her journal he’d lived his mother’s pain after his father had been taken from her. He couldn’t allow that to happen to Lacy.
He had to get out.
Of all that had happened to him this would be his toughest fight yet, but it would end in one of two ways: Either Michael would convince the Thrones to let him live with the woman he had lost his heart and soul to, or he would die by her side.
Either way, he wasn’t prepared to exist without her.
Nyx scooted closer to the rocky precipice, and then just a bit further, so she could curl her toes around the edge. The wind howled, jerking at her hair and loose, black dress. She stared down, trying to estimate the drop. It was so far she couldn’t see the bottom in the darkness, but then, the moon wasn’t giving her much light tonight. She spread her arms wide, embracing the emptiness, and tumbled forward.
She fell so fast that the mountainside blurred around her and the scream of the wind in her ears almost, almost, drowned out the roar of adrenaline. The ground raced up to meet her, seemingly hungry for her blood, aching for her death.
Her wings shot out, jerking her to a stop mid-air, her feet almost grazing the ground that had moments before been a demon about to devour her alive.
GENRE: Contemporary LGBT Romance, Erotic
The one Carson never thought he’d see again could be the one to save his life.
Carson never expected to see his dog or a man from his past ever again. His ex took Dragon when he left, then carelessly lost the dog. Dragon’s been found and in the last place Carson expected to find him—a vet’s office.
But, the surprises just keep coming.
Carson hasn’t seen Alec since school, but the feelings he had for the man haven’t abated.
When he’s reunited with Alec at the veterinary office, Carson’s got to face his feelings.
Includes scenes of spanking, oral sex, anal sex and male-male sex.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright© 2017 Megan Slayer
The vet turned around and smiled. “You must be Carson Welles. It’s nice to see you.”
I clamped my teeth together to keep from drooling. Eyes the color of the ocean, just enough scruff on his cheeks to cause a light burn during a kiss and those lips. Good thing I had the dog to shield me. I had to get myself under control or he’d call the cops for indecency.
He stuck out his hand. “I assume you can talk.”
I shook my head. “No—I mean, yes I can talk.” My skin crawled. The last man who got to me was my ex, Leon. Fuck. This guy had me forgetting the very manners Mama took years to instill in me.
“I’m glad we got Dragon, here, in when we did. He’s malnourished and needs a dental cleaning.” Dr. Niemi hiked one side of Drag’s jowls up. “He’s been chewing on things he shouldn’t have. I’d like him to come back in for a cleaning and to make sure he’s up to date on his shots. Can you tell me why he was loose?”
I stared at the vet, deciphering his words. I knew he’d spoken English, but I felt so out of sorts. Cleaning… shots… why was he loose? Oh, hell. “My ex took him when we split. Leon wasn’t much for closing doors or gates. My guess is Drag saw an open door and made a break for it. He doesn’t mind being confined if he’s got something to eat or a chew toy to attack.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at: http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm
Amazon Author Page, http://www.amazon.com/Megan-Slayer/e/B008BJCFSC
BUY LINK: https://books2read.com/u/3LrLk1
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GENRE: Paranormal Romance
When Adryel follows Lucifer in his rebellion, she loses Ramael, the one she loves, and everything else she holds dear. How can he still love her when, as the Mistress of Hell, she has done more to thwart Adonai’s plan for humanity than all the other fallen angels combined?
“The council is in session,” Uriel repeated as Adryel took her seat. “Each of you will find a book on the table in front of you. As its title indicates, it contains a plan for creation of…well, we’ll see what is to be created. In any case, Adonai wishes to implement the plan, and he solicits your advice and counsel before he proceeds.”
“The plan is not long, as you can see,” Uriel said. “We’ll read it now.”
Lucifer flipped toward the back of the book. “On the twenty-fourth page we find an extended discussion of one of these creatures, the one called human.” A look of distaste blanketed his features and his eyes narrowed. “I find the plan for this creature to be most disturbing.”
Michael sat up and leaned forward, resting his forearm on the table. “Why so? What disturbs you?”
Lucifer’s finger ran down the page, stopping halfway. “The humans will have no predisposition to do what is good.
“In the fifth paragraph…The human creatures will be predisposed to do neither good nor evil,” he read, then gazed around the table.
“Our nature is to do good, but the humans will be different. Their nature will be…variable.” As he shrugged, indicating he could be no more specific, his eyes lit up, as if an idea had just occurred to him. An evil smile crossed his face. “Perhaps this will help.”
Lucifer reached into the pocket of his robe and withdrew the wooden disk. “See this disk? On one side, there is an X. On the other, we find an O, a circle.”
He flipped the disk into the air and it landed on the table, bouncing twice, ending with the side bearing the X facing up.
“Surely, Lucifer, you don’t mean…”
“I mean this…Suppose I were one of these human creatures.” He visibly shivered as he spoke. “Further suppose that I were to encounter a beautiful female…such as our secretary,” he nodded toward Adryel, “walking in the palace garden early in the evening.”
All eyes turned to her. She could feel her face growing warm and she dropped her eyes.
“I do not mean to embarrass her, but suppose I encountered her as I said…what might I do?” He paused, stroking his chin as if deep in thought. “Now, it is my nature to do good, so I would wish her a good evening. If I were human, though, with no such predisposition, what would determine my behavior?”
He tossed the disk again. This time, the large O was visible.
“I can do good, or I can do evil. An X or an O. Adryel, what are the odds I would do good? You know the answer.”
After a long pause, Adryel turned to Lord Lucifer. “In the absence of any other influence, the likelihood of good behavior is one of two. Half of the time you would do good.”
“Circle, I wish you a good evening. X, I ravish you.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
We recently moved to our new home near Charleston, South Carolina. Three of my four books are set in Charleston, and I’ve always enjoyed the Carolina beaches. I now have the opportunity to walk on the beach almost every day and to photography the ocean, the sea birds, and the marshes that I love.
I love photography, and I have photographed subjects as varied as prehistoric ruins on the islands of Scotland, star trails, sea gulls, and a Native American powwow. My wife and I have traveled widely in the United States and the United Kingdom. During trips to Scotland, we visited Crathes Castle, the ancestral home of the Burnett family near Aberdeen, and Kismul Castle on Barra, the home of my McNeil ancestors.
I went to school for much longer than I want to admit, and I have degrees in psychology and education. In an “earlier life” I was director of research for our state’s education department.
The book is on sale for $0.99 during the tour.
Amazon Author Page
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~~~~~~~~~~~~ GENRE: Paranormal Suspense ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Evil comes in many forms…
One by one, Laura Armstrong’s friends and adoptive family members are being murdered, and despite her unique healing powers, she can do nothing to stop it. The savage killer haunts her dreams, tormenting her with the promise that she is next. Determined to find the killer, she follows her visions to the site of a crashed meteorite in her hometown. There, she meets Ben Fieldstone, who seeks answers about his parents’ death the night the meteorite struck. In a race to stop a madman, they unravel a frightening secret that binds them together. But the killer’s desire to destroy Laura face-to-face leads to a showdown that puts Laura and Ben’s emotional relationship and Laura’s pure spirit to the test. With the killer closing in, Laura discovers her destiny is linked to his, and she has two choices—redeem him or kill him.
The man could hear the child’s bellowing cries coming from underneath the blanket covering it. She pushed the child into his arms as if eager to be rid of it. He took the bundle and handed the nurse his packages. The nurse began to close the door when he
heard another far away cry.
The man wedged his foot in the door. “What was that?”
“N-Nothing.” The nurse looked up.
The man risked looking her in the eye.
“The girl is in pain and won’t keep quiet.” She clutched the envelope and folded her arms across her sagging bosom.
“It sounded like another baby,” he said.
“It’s just the whimpering slut. Now she’s paid double for what she’s done.” The nurse took a step back as if aware she had said too much already. She glared at him. “Now go on. You have what you wanted. And so do I.” She shut the door in his face.
The man in black stood there for a long moment, considering the woman’s choice of words. What if another child had been delivered and the frigid woman and country doctor kept it secret?
He decided to keep this information to himself. He would find the opportune time to use it. He was a patient man. But first, he had to see for himself. He peeled back the child’s bunting and looked for the first time into its yellow eyes. For that moment, the baby fell silent.
“Welcome to Earth X-10.”
The baby resumed its wailing.
The man turned with his noisy package and melted into the darkness satisfied, as the doctor had been, that the night’s events had provided him with more than he had asked for.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Donna Galanti is the author of the paranormal suspense Element Trilogy (Imajin Books -http://www.imajinbooks.com/ ) and the children’s fantasy adventure Joshua and The Lightning Road series (Month9Books -http://www.month9books.com/ ). Donna is a contributing editor for International Thriller Writers the Big Thrill (http://www.thebigthrill.org/) – magazine and blogs with other middle grade authors at Project Middle Grade Mayhem (http://project-middle-grade-mayhem.blogspot.com/search/label/Donna Galanti) . She’s lived from England as a child, to Hawaii as a U.S. Navy photographer. Donna enjoys teaching at conferences on the writing craft and marketing and also presenting as a guest author at elementary and middle schools.
Connect with Donna:
Purchase books 1 and 2 in the Element Trilogy:
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GENRE: Historical Romance
Can a beautiful Worthington widow find love again? Depends on who’s asking . . .
Before he died, Patience was the Earl of Worthington’s second wife. So why shouldn’t Patience be allowed a second chance at marriage, too? Of course, finding a new husband was not something the mother of four had ever planned on. But a surprise encounter with her first love has suddenly made the impossible seem possible all over again . . .
It seems like a lifetime ago that Richard, Viscount Wolverton, was halfway around the world, looking for adventure . . . while Patience, at her coming-out, was left with no choice but to take old Worthington’s hand. Richard never forgot the woman whose heart he yearned for—and now that he’s back, he’s not going to let her slip away again . . .
Pulteney Hotel, London, 1815
“And this is Viscount Wolverton.” Patience Worthington watched as Almeria, Lady Bellamny, smiled as she introduced the gentleman to the Duchess of Bristol. Almeria turned her black eyes on Patience. The smile didn’t fade at all as she said, “Wolverton, I believe you have already met the Dowager Countess of Worthington.”
What in God’s name is he doing here? Patience inclined her head and held out her hand. “Indeed. The years have treated you well, my lord.”
Bowing, he took her fingers in his. “As they have done to you, my lady.”
His lips hovered over her hand as she prayed he would do nothing more than kiss the air above them, but no. The devil pressed his warm, firm lips to her knuckles; even through her gloves she could feel his touch and fought the urge to suck in a breath. “Thank you, my lord.”
One would think after all these years and his betrayal she would be immune to him. And one would be wrong. She held her breath, counting—One, two, three, four, five. Thank God—until he finally straightened and returned her hand to her. Thank God! Patience let out the breath, yet she could not control the pounding in her breast. It took all the control she had not to make an excuse and leave the room. Yet, she could not do that to Dotty Stern, soon to be the Marchioness of Merton.
“He has been a friend for a very long time,” Almeria continued, as if she had no idea of the havoc she had created by inviting Wolverton. “Though he hardly ever comes to Town.”
“Well, my dear,” Lord Bellamny said, “you couldn’t be here so often if it wasn’t for the help he gives me. Someone must assist me in my experiments.”
“Very true, my dear.”
Patience made the mistake of glancing up at the same moment Richard Wolverton stared down at her. His amber eyes smoldered as they had the last time she had seen him, only days before her marriage to the old Earl of Worthington.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Bestselling author Ella Quinn’s studies and other jobs have always been on the serious side. Reading historical romances, especially Regencies, were her escape. Eventually her love of historical novels led her to start writing them. She has just finished her first series, The Marriage Game, and her new series, The Worthingtons, began in April 2016.
She is married to her wonderful husband of over thirty years. They have a son and two beautiful granddaughters, and a dog. After living in the South Pacific, Central America, North Africa, England and Europe, she and her husband decided to make their dreams come true and are now living on a sailboat cruising the Caribbean and North America. Europe is next!
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Ella-Quinn/e/B00CAE0FSQ/ref=sr_tc_2_0
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About the Book
Captain Marco Dante was captured and sentenced to hang two years ago, but he escaped before his punishment was carried out. Now he’s come back to the woman whose memory kept him alive those long months in prison. Arianne had been his grand passion, but he failed to see how much she meant to him until it was too late. Can he recapture her heart? Or has he lost her forever?
Arianne never imagined she’d see her notorious pirate lover again. Though her heart sings with joy at his return, she knows he hasn’t come back for her but for the treasure he left behind. She agrees to help him find it, but can her heart withstand one more adventure with him?
“I have a life here now.”
“There’s nothing for you here. Your place is by my side. In your heart, you know ’tis true.”
She looked away, turning her gaze to the ocean’s waves pounding the beach with hypnotic rhythm. A few moments ago, she sat here, mulling over her life’s misfortunes and attempting to reach a decision about her future.
Arianne shook her head. “I no longer travel your path. You sail without me, my friend.”
She pushed her bare toes into the grainy sand and stood, brushing the remaining sand that clung to her petticoats. In the silence of the crashing waves, she turned and walked away.
Inside, her heart bled. Yet, she deserved no better. Her life led to this heartache. That she walked away from this man now, after all this time only confirmed it.
“Arianne, you’re coming with me.”
His serious tone warned her of his intentions. She spun to face him, unsheathing her sword in time to block his attack. The sound of metal striking metal pierced the moonlit darkness. Her ears rang with the sound.
They stood, neither moving. She stared into his eyes. “You would take me by force?”
“Never by force,” his voice lowered to a growl. “You will come willingly.” And he smiled, that knowing one she hated.
She let out a howl of outrage and swung her sword. He easily blocked. They stepped a deadly dance of striking blades, until again they were trapped by heated gazes.
Her breathing was heavy, labored, filled with excitement. She looked at his lips, wanting to taste them but knowing she dared not. Her will was never strong around him. With one touch she might lose herself and want him again for forever. But that dream would never be achievable with Marco.
With him, she’d always be alone.
“Come with me, Arianne.”
She pushed away and again they danced. Her feet moved lightly as she sprang, her petticoats swirling with each movement though she hoped they would not entangle her legs. Her arm swung with lithe movements as she fought. She equaled him with skill and grace. Each time their swords clashed, the noise pierced her soul. That she fought him was a testament to her determination to escape his tyranny over her heart. She could not succumb to him again.
As they battled, a sheen of sweat appeared upon his brow. The exposed skin of his chest glistened in the moonlight. His arms flexed as he swung his sword. His grace, his power, his energy seduced her.
Her heart pounded. Her skin ached to touch his. The heat in her lower regions grew to a fiery inferno. She trembled.
Again, they locked blades.
They stood a moment, staring. His gaze burned into her soul. She licked the salty sweat from her upper lip, and his eyes followed the movement with utter fascination.
He pushed their swords away. With his free hand, he grabbed her shoulder, pulling her tight against his chest. Arianne tilted her head to look into his eyes. The blue depths called to her, like the ocean’s waves licking at her feet. The yearning to go to him was too great. She hadn’t the will to fight.
About the Author:
Tricia Schneider is an author of historical, paranormal and gothic romance. Before the supernatural took possession of her pen, she worked for several years as Assistant Manager and bookseller at Waldenbooks. After the store closed, she turned to writing fiction full-time. She has written both short stories and full-length novels published by The Wild Rose Press, including her newest book, The Pirate’s Lady, and her historical paranormal romance series, The Merriweather Witches. Tricia is a member of Romance Writers of America. She lives in the Pennsylvania coal region with her musician husband, their 4 young children and 3 rescued cats.
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I write paranormal, including romance, and other romance genres. Here is my attempt at soft horror.
Look at her lying there on the old iron bed. They’ve just bathed her and changed the linens, so the room smells fresh and clean as a summer breeze. If only they’d open the window, she could smell the river and the sweet honeysuckle vine growing on its banks. They’ve brought videos to for her to watch other people’s lives when she has none.
I’m the only one who can breathe life into her numb body.
Maribelle would be running down by the river, swimming naked in its cool waters, if I weren’t such a treacherous playmate, leading her a merry dance across the moss slick river rocks. She slipped and hit her head. I cried as they carried her away—to this room, her world now.
Yet, she loves me still. See her eyes searching the room and when her gaze lands on my face, she smiles. She calls me. Pardon me, I shall go to her now. I’ll kiss her, and her pretty mouth will open sweetly for my tongue. I’ll suckle her breasts, caress her, and maybe even give her a good hard shafting. She loves to watch me do it to her. She can’t feel anything else, and she grows tired of the endless videos.
Being with my Mari is the only pleasure in my life. Is it because of my guilt you ask.
Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not.
They’ve gone and left her in peace. A frown has creased her smooth brow. She is remembering. See how a smile has lit her eyes. She relives the days when our passion burned bright and her supple young body would engulf me and leave me weak as a child. Yes, Belle is recalling that summer, less than a year ago, down by the river.
We met in the steamy heat of July. Eight months, she’s lain helpless in that bed. Time once meant nothing to me. Now, I count the days as surely as any mortal man. Last summer was the closest to heaven I’ll ever get . . .
Even now, though she could move only her eyes, Maribelle recalled and treasured the night Devlin first appeared. His beautiful body wearing an aura of moonlight, standing tall and slender, he was male perfection. His hair was true black and longish. His eyes—what could she say of those magnificent eyes—stunning and blue, yes, an enchanting blue she’d never seen before…or since. That blue did not exist in this world.
Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, call Devlin, but that wondrous night in the grass by the riverbank she learned she could never live without him. With the water whispering over rock, he’d made good the sensual promise he’d made the first time he visited her, loving her slow and deep again and again as the moon rose.
It had been midsummer, the night alive with dancing fireflies and humming crickets. Her window was open to a honeysuckle breeze. Rich, buttery moonlight slatted through the dusty blinds drawing white lines on the bare floor. River scent stalked her as she paced like a caged animal, driven by the need to escape her small town existence. If only she could run away to the city, but she was stuck here with the gurgling, never-ending song of the river. Tonight, she turned eighteen—for all the good it’d do her.
A haunting need sang low in her body, swept up her in throbbing waves. Neither the moonlight nor the sweet summer smells offered any respite. Maribelle was wired and edgy. She coasted to a halt by the window, resting her cheek against the pane to stare at the moon.
“I’m trapped.” Her voice echoed in the silence of the room she shared with her sisters. “I couldn’t stand that old man touching me. I don’t regret telling him I’d rather marry a monkey.”
What would her folks think when they found out her answer to Mr. Jones’ proposal was to laugh? God knows, they had a surplus of daughters and could stand getting rid of one.
The old iron bed creaked as she flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. In the living room, the new flat screen TV droned. She resented the expensive purchase. Momma and Dad couldn’t afford it. They’d said it was for their girls. The useless, senseless words on the game show her family were watching coaxed sleep.
Ripe with passion, flushed with eighteen-year-old innocence, Maribelle closed her eyes and sighed. The room, well, I returned her sigh. She wasn’t beautiful but something about her appealed to me more than beauty. If only she’d call me, I’d ease her pain.
A tear slid down her cheek. “I want out of this godforsaken corner of Mississippi. I want a man–a handsome man to love me–not some old codger everyone says is a witch.”
The clock chimed, warning Maribelle that soon Annabelle and Florence would troop into the room and her precious alone time would end in senseless chatter. Exhaling another heavy sigh, she flipped onto her side. The room sighed its sympathy.
The wind rose, fluttering the white drifty curtains, smelling of a storm. Lightning split the sky, momentarily joining Heaven and Earth. A horrible crescendo of thunder rattled the windows. Was Old Man Jones conjuring up a storm? She laughed at a memory of her rejected suitor’s face. Witch indeed! He was just a lecherous old codger.
The stormy breeze found her lying on the bed and stroked her hair back from her neck, cooling her face. She closed her eyes. Airy fingers explored the contours of her face, her ears. As invisible lips brushed her mouth, she gasped, her eyes snapping open. Insubstantial kisses trailed like butterfly wings over her bare shoulder, to rest briefly on the top of her left breast. Pleasant chills rippled over her. Beneath her pink flannel gown, her nipples peaked. Deep within, a hot pulsing awoke. Her body was alive as never before and resonating to the phantom caresses.
Slowly, one-by-one, the tiny buttons on her gown opened. The faded fabric parted, exposing her breasts to the searching lips. She shivered as thrills chased over her. Anticipation coalesced into a pulsating between her legs.
Maribelle craved these wondrous sensations more than the next breath. Many times, she awoke in the night drenched in sweat, longing for a lover. Moist and warm, a mouth closed on her nipples. Teeth scraped, bit at the sensitive nub. The delicious pain shot desire through her. She twisted on her bed, moaning. The pleasure was becoming unbearable. Her hips swiveled up to meet . . . nothing. She needed weight pressing her into the feather mattress. She wanted to be filled, impaled. She was so ready. She needed to meet passion head-on.
The invisible mouth trailed to her other breast. Fingers closed, rotating, pinching on the abandoned nipple. Her body melted into the sensual caresses. Hands explored lower, now gripping her hip bones. And then she felt the lips on her stomach, hands cupping her bottom, drawing her hips up to meet the pleasure. Gentle fingers parted her. Other fingers, not gentle, pinched her nipples to unbearable hardness. The excruciating need grew more intense, lifting her, without will, borne solely by instinct. Her body trembled in a prelude to satisfaction.
Maribelle groaned and forced her eyes open. This dream was too real. Too incredibly, wonderfully real.
The arousing attentions of hands and mouth ceased. Her breath caught in her throat. Her scream froze. This was no dream. Silhouetted against the window stood a tall figure fashioned from moonlight and river breezes.
“Mari.” The voice was full-bodied, rich as homemade wine.
She went cold inside, shivering as she reached down to cover herself, but the flannel material draped across her knees. Her shiver of passion became a tremor of fear. She managed to force her words past the lump in her throat. “Who are you?”
“I am Devlin.” Light cascaded down a river of luxurious dark hair and reflected on a high cheek bone.
Maribelle struggled in vain to capture a glimpse of her visitor’s face. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”
“You called me. You wanted me.” A low, thrilling laugh sent a shock of arousal through her. “Very, very much.”
“Did Old Man Jones send you? Are you a demon?”
A whispered laugh answered. “I am Devlin. No more. No less.”
Drenched in humiliation, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.
“My love.” The words and the spirit materialized above her.
Their gazes locked, and for the first time she saw his enchanting eyes. She drew a long breath to speak, but slim fingers curled around her chin. Her protests melted in expectancy. Unspoken words filled the silence. She knew what was going to happen. Wicked, commanding lust danced in eyes so blue they shamed the sky. There was ample time to avoid the kiss as his face drifted toward hers, but she was mesmerized, each particle of her being poised, waiting.
The storm broke. Through the open window, rain splattered the floor and soaked the filmy curtains.
He kissed her lightly on the mouth, then straightened. “Your sisters come. I’ll return. You have but to call. However, you must tell no one about me. I am your secret. Meet me tomorrow night by the river, sweet Maribelle, and I shall teach you about love. You are mine now. I am yours.”
For an adventure into the paranormal realms, my anthology of ghosties, ghoulies, long-legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night, released October 15th by Class Act Books. The book is available on Class Act’s website as well as Amazon.
Four by Moonlight
An anthology of love in the moonlight…in the paranormal realms.
Gypsy Ribbons – A moonlight ride on the moors and meeting a notorious highwayman will forever change Lady Virginia Darby’s life.
Star Angel – Lucy was stuck in a rut and in an Idaho potato patch. She’d seen him in the corner of her eye—a fleeting glimpse of beauty—now he stood before her in the flesh.
The Night Before Doomsday – All his brothers had succumbed to lust, but Azazel resisted temptation until the wrong woman came along.
The Gate Keeper’s Cottage – Newlywed Meggie Richelieu’s mysterious, phantom lover may be more than anyone, except the plantation housekeeper, suspects.
Other Reads by Linda Nightingale:
Gemini Rising – Controversial Dark Fantasy with deep psychological undertones
My giveaway? An eBook of Morgan D’Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody, an anthology, with a swag pack including autographed bookmark. Comment to be entered to win. Thanks for stopping by and have a Spooktacular Halloween. To find me and my books, please visit my website: http://www.LindaNightingale.com
I’m hopping all over! Stay tuned and scroll down for the ABA Halloween Hop with a $50 Amazon gift card as grand prize and many others from great authors. Plus my Halloween short story, The Acolyte–first installment; final installment Halloween!
Authors Mary Marvella and MJ Flournoy host The Romance Caper today, a Facebook Event. Drop by and play with Morgan (yes, he is real on the pages of his new novel!), Authors Tony-Paul de Vissage, and others, including Yours Truly.
Time is 4 PM EST, 3 PM CST, Lots of fun, books, prizes, and meet a few new faces on the publishing block. Good way to spend a rainy afternoon. (It’s raining in Houston!)