Wednesday, February 28, 2018

A Hero's Haven - Resolution Ranch(#3 Flint Hills Military Heroes) - Tessa Layne - Book Blitz






A Hero’s Haven: Resolution Ranch
Tessa Layne
(Flint Hills Military Heroes, #3)
Publication date: February 27th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Former Navy SEAL Cash Aiken assumed he could leave behind the trauma of war and settle into life as a bodyguard. Why not? He was big, smart, and nothing ever got past his eagle eye. But a split second of inattention nearly cost the life of his asset, and cost him his job. When his old buddy Travis Kincaid invites him to come work at Resolution Ranch, an organization helping wounded vets, he clings to the lifeline and hopes it’s a chance to start over. But Cash is stunned to discover that the beautiful woman he nearly let die is hiding out at the ranch, masquerading as a stable hand.

Country Music’s Superdiva, Kaycee Starr, is done with the music biz. After a terrifying encounter with a crazed fan, she goes underground and answers a help-wanted ad in a place the paparazzi would never think to look. Prairie, Kansas. While she finds solace and healing among the horses, handsome ranch hand Cash Aiken lights her up in ways she only wrote about in songs. He’s the only person she’s met who seems to ‘get’ her.

Cash and Kaycee fall hard and fast for each other, but when their secrets are exposed, will they have the courage to trust each other? And more importantly, themselves?










EXCERPT

The barn door stood partially open and Cash parted it the rest of the way, stepping into the dim warmth. The sweet smell of dried clover and hay, laced with an undercurrent of oiled leather and the sharp tang of manure settled into his bones. He cherished the solace and security of the barn. He’d learned every nook and cranny the first week he’d moved to the ranch. And on really bad nights early on, working and sleeping in the barn had been his salvation. While he welcomed the addition of a desperately needed ranch hand, the thought of an interloper in his sanctuary unsettled him.
The scrape of a shovel against the floor drew his attention. Looping Samson’s lead around a post next to the tack room, he slipped down the aisle following the sound. He stopped short at the sight of a luscious heart-shaped ass bent in his direction. Of course, if the interloper looked like that

Sensations Cash hadn’t felt in ages stuttered to life. Legs for days? Check. Curves? If her ass was any indication, check. He couldn’t care less about hair color, but the sight of the thick long brown braid peeking out from under a felt cowboy hat and hanging down the owner’s shoulders launched his imagination into overdrive. Visions of winding its length around his hand and tugging, exposing a column of creamy skin danced through his head. His pulse went to the races as he watched her fluidly shovel hay into a wheelbarrow. The woman was poetry in motion. She moved with an easy grace that belied the difficulty of the task at hand. He’d shoveled hay for hours. He knew how taxing it could be on the body. Was this Kate?

CRACK!

What the fuck?

CrackCrackCrack

DUCK!” Cash shouted as he launched himself through the air at the woman, pulling her down on top of him to break her fall, then quickly rolling them over to cover her body with his.

A muffled squeak came from beneath him.
“Quiet,” he murmured into her ear, heart pounding, brain racing through a thousand scenarios of what could be going on outside. Whatever was happening, he’d protect this woman with his life. He’d failed to protect people he loved in the past, he wouldn’t fail again.

Another muffled noise came from the body squirming beneath him, and his attention was suddenly drawn to soft curves and heady perfume. “Stay still,” he ordered roughly, bringing his focus back to his surroundings. He couldn’t focus on where the attackers were with her writhing beneath him. Not when his cock was notched perfectly between her legs. She stilled momentarily, only to renew her struggle with vigor. He strained, listening for the telltale signs of an attack, scuffles, shouts, more gunshots. But, nothing.

He lifted his head, cocking an ear in the direction of the initial noise. The woman took advantage, yanking his beard so hard tears sprang to his eyes. He swung his gaze back to the firecracker beneath him and the world tilted sideways, snatching his breath with heart-stopping ferocity.

This wasn’t Kate. Oh, no. This was his worst nightmare come back to life. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lying beneath him, green eyes flashing fire, was the last woman he ever expected to see face to face again, Kaycee Starr.




Author Bio


Hi, I'm USA Today Best Selling Author Tessa Layne.

Thanks for stopping by! I write smokin' hot contemporary cowboy and military romances filled with tenderhearted tough guys and sassy strong women who capture their hearts.

Please join my email list at tessalayne.com for exclusive updates, previews, and other offers. You can find me hanging out in my Facebook reader group The Prairie Posse.
A little about me- I grew up in Colorado in the mountains at the edge of the Great Plains. There, I met my own smokin' hot Cowboy and we had a whirlwind romance to rival any novel. I believe in Happily Ever Afters, love fireflies, horses, and breathing clean country air. My favorite thing to do is to sit on the porch swing with a glass of Rose, listening to my Cowboy pluck his guitar!





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Collision Point (#1 Brute Force) Lora Leigh - Book Blitz


Author 
Lora Leigh

Publication Date 
27 February 2018 

Genre 
Romantic Suspense


From #1 bestselling author Lora Leigh comes Collision Point, part of the thrilling Brute Force series—packed with powerful men, steely women, and explosive passion.

SHE’S NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

Riordan Malone is more than a bodyguard. As an Elite Ops agent, he’s ripped, raged, and ready to rumble—a true warrior, inside and out. But no war zone can compare to the battle in Rory’s heart when he lays eyes on the only woman he’s ever loved—and thought he had lost forever. . .

HE’S EVERYTHING SHE NEEDS 

As the daughter of a crime lord, Amara Resnova has endured the cruelty of her father’s enemies—and has tried to escape that world ever since. Now, she must reach out to the one man who saved her life, even if she’s never forgiven him for breaking her heart. But Amara is tougher today than she was then. She’s also more desirable to Rory—and dangerous to love. Can he protect her from her father’s enemies without surrendering to his own passions…or will love seal their fate for good?









Collision Point is a fast paced romantic suspense filled with action, steamy hot scenes, danger, betrayal, love and loyalty. The most intriguing element is the power of predestined soul mates.

Rory is an elite ops agent working as a bodyguard. He is intense, passionate and protective towards those he loves.

Amara is the daughter of a mob boss converted to more legal activities. She is sheltered and adored by her father.

This novel kicks off with an extremely painful situation. Rory is desperate to rescue Amara from her abductors and is faced with the most heartbreaking sight.

Six months later Amara goes in search of Rory as a result of her recurring dreams where he always features. He has been unable to contact her for various reasons, one of which being that he barely escaped the rescue mission. She has no recollection of the past year and isn't aware of her relationship with him. The thing is, her soul recognises him and she feels this intense attraction towards him. She is baffled by her reaction to his presence. He isn’t too happy about the threats on her life and swears to protect her at all costs. Will he be able to trigger her memory into what happened to her on that fateful night? This is vital to eliminating the threats and rekindling their relationship.

It's a great storyline which is somewhat rushed in places. Nathan, Rory's brother is a constant in this novel, but there are only snippets of what happened to him. There are some information about Amara's life as a child, but some aspects remain obscure. The unraveling of some of the mysteries are quite shocking and the explanation about the bond between Rory and Amara is mesmerising. Despite some of the shortfalls, it's still a compelling and addictive read.

I was kindly issued with an ARC and the views expressed are my personal opinion.
 




Lora Leigh lives in the rolling hills of Kentucky, often found absorbing the ambience of this peaceful setting. She dreams in bright, vivid images of the characters intent on taking over her writing life, and fights a constant battle to put them on the hard drive of her computer before they can disappear as fast as they appeared. Lora’s family, and her writing life co-exist, if not in harmony, in relative peace with each other. Surrounded by a menagerie of pets, friends, and a teenage son who keeps her quick wit engaged, Lora’s life is filled with joys, aided by her fans whose hearts remind her daily why she writes.









Still by Camilla Monk - Book Blitz Sneak Peek






Still
Camilla Monk
Publication date: February 28th 2018
Genres: New Adult, Paranormal,
 Urban Fantasy

It always started like this, a pulse inside me, like a warning before the tide surged, roared… and froze everything.

Twenty-year old Emma just landed in Rome, to find the father who walked out of her life more than a decade ago and was too busy eating pizza to call. Traveling with her is a secret she’s carried alone since childhood: sometimes, around her, time stops. People and cars freeze, rain hangs still in the air and there’s only her left in the silence.

To make things worse, instead of her dad, Em runs into a past she’d rather forget in the person of Lily, her step-sis. Kind, beautiful, Harvard honors student Lily: the perfect daughter Em never was. As the two of them reconnect, Em starts to pick up some creepy vibes from Katharos, the mysterious archaeological foundation Lily works for—and more specifically the ancient stone table they’re digging up near the coliseum…

Faust, the blind hobo Em keeps running into, might be the key to piercing Katharos’s secrets. Actually, he might even have something to do with that pesky time-freezing thing. With Lily’s life on the line and no one else to turn to, Em chooses to trust this unlikely ally, but behind his charming smile and lunar antics, the guy comes with some serious fine print…





READ CHAPTER 1

Officially, this is not my story. It’s not my face you saw on CNN and Rai News after it was all over. I didn’t lose my mother at a young age; as far as I know, she’s still alive, probably doing fine. My paternal grandfather wasn’t a world-class historian, and I didn’t enroll in Harvard at seventeen to follow in his footsteps—I was never really good with books and studying. Just didn’t have the brains for that.

But I was there. I went to Rome to visit my dad at the time—booked a round trip ticket and six nights in a budget guesthouse with my tips from Tuna Town. I know, I know . . . Keep your jokes; I’ve heard them all. We had the cheapest tuna rolls on Broadway, though, and fresh most of the time. Anyway, I hadn’t seen my dad since I was seven, so it might sound like the adventure of a lifetime. It could even have been my story: this girl who decides to burn her meager savings on a trip to Italy to find the mysterious genitor she hasn’t heard from in thirteen years. There’s a tearful reunion, they sort out their issues, and she moves to Rome at the end—to start a new life and all.

I’ll get to that part, but let’s start with the afternoon right after I landed. I was sitting on a bench in a tiny park square tucked by the Piazza di San Marco—little more than a patch of grass under a few parasol pines. With my ripped jeans, my old Eastpak, and a can of beer tucked between my knees while I munched on a two-euro slice of margherita, I probably looked like your average gutter punk to the untrained eye. The October sun was warm in my hair—a messy bun dyed a washed-out turquoise. I liked that color, even if my blonde roots looked a little greenish.

Washing down the pizza with a slow sip, I watched over the rim of my can as buses came and went from a station on the square. Tons of buses, white and red, vomiting families of tourists coming to visit Roman ruins and that castle thing overlooking the piazza. It kinda looked like a Greek temple, with columns everywhere, white marble, and a statue of a guy on a horse in front of it. Old stuff, very nice. I took a couple of pics, mostly to pass the time because I couldn’t muster the courage to hop on a bus and go knock on my dad’s door.

I had his address saved in Google Maps; well, I hoped it was his, anyway. I’d found it not long after discovering his Facebook profile a few weeks ago, but he hadn’t replied to my friend invite. Maybe social media wasn’t his thing. He must be in his mid-fifties after all, which, to my twenty-year-old self sounded like some sort of pre-mummification stage. I set my beer down on the bench and took out my phone to check my Facebook feed for the hundredth time. I chewed on my nails. No new notification.

A few taps and a tiny profile pic of a fifty-something guy with graying blond hair appeared. Big grin, a tan, and sunglasses—taken during a vacation, I gathered.
Gabriele Lombardi.

Lombardi . . . the last name I had never worn. The name of a quiet Italian dude who’d sometimes visit our Brooklyn flat on Sundays and take me to Coney Island for the afternoon. We never did any rides, just strolled up and down the Boardwalk and shared a hot dog. He didn’t know what to say to a six-year-old, so he’d be like, “Guarda, gabbiani!” Look, seagulls! Meanwhile, I’d eat my half of our hot dog in dignified silence because I already knew what a seagull was. I would have wanted to hear about his job instead, or if he’d left Rome because of all the slavery there, like in Gladiator. And maybe, if I’d been brave enough, I’d have told him about the secret weighing in my chest and keeping me up at night, but I was too shy—too awkward for any of that.

I had no idea, back then, that Italy was even farther than Florida, and that this occasional Sunday dad of mine didn’t have legit visitation rights because he’d never filed for paternity in the first place. I didn’t know there’d be one too many fights with my mom over alimony, one too many threats of suing his lazy ass, one last Sunday, one last hot dog, and that I’d never see him again after that afternoon, when the seagulls paused in their flight above our heads for a short eternity.

Whatever. Tough shit, I guess. I chugged another gulp of beer and listened to the city’s noise, the cars, and the laugh of strangers, getting reacquainted with what little Italian I’d learned from my dad as a kid, like a song I wouldn’t remember well, but whose melody lingered. The notes threaded with Roman voices to fill the gaping holes in my vocabulary, and I could tell that those two women worked in a hospital, or that the guys sitting in the grass were checking their phone to see how to get to Quartaccio—wherever that was. Not bad for a high school dropout with a record 0.6 GPA. I gave a snort when I noticed an ad on the side of a bus with the words test di admissione. College, the final frontier . . .

I manspread wider on the bench with a bitter sigh and craned my neck to look up at the azure sky. Maybe I should message him again, and say “Hey, I’m here in Rome”? But what if he thought I was a stalker and he freaked out? What if he didn’t want to be found? Okay, that one was far-fetched; he was on Facebook, after all. And yet goose bumps bloomed under my hoodie in a familiar mix of shame and dread. It was kind of too late for that, but I was starting to realize I’d fucked up—again. I’d pictured myself starring in my very own Lifetime movie and blown $700 on a stupid impulse.

Now I couldn’t even find the balls to call him and simply ask, “Do you remember me? Do you want to see me?”

“Okay,” I announced, to no one in particular—scared a couple of pigeons though.

I slammed my beer on the bench. Night wouldn’t fall for another couple of hours, at least. Museum tickets and tourist stuff were expensive, but I could always take a stroll around the piazza to clear my thoughts—the forum with the old Roman ruins was right behind that palace with the horseman. No need to pay for a ticket to check it from the street and snatch a few pics. I grabbed my backpack and beer. I frowned down at the almost-full black can. Honestly, that shit tasted worse than a Natty Daddy you drink alone for breakfast, and I didn’t want to be the girl who drowns her sorrow in grandma’s rubbing alcohol.

But I didn’t like to waste either. I decided to leave it up for whoever wanted to grab it—a bit of street solidarity never hurt. I’d barely shrugged on my backpack before this old guy with dirty track pants and gaping sneakers popped up behind me. Bumdar alert: dude hadn’t even bothered removing the cardboard sign around his neck—a few lines in Italian hastily scribbled with a Sharpie. I made no attempt to decipher it; his toothless grin spoke for itself. I flourished my hand toward the can with a wink.

He took the can and toasted me with it, chewing out a few words in a raspy singing voice. It took me a couple of seconds to make sense of the jumbled syllables—he wanted to know what a nice girl like me was doing in Rome.

My lips parted to reply. No sound came out. A loud and familiar beat in my chest muted my voice. His. Everyone else’s.

Oh God. Oh no . . .

It always started like this: a pulse inside me, like a warning before the tide surged, roared . . . and froze everything. The bum had raised my beer to his lips; golden drops remained still in the air above his open mouth. The tourists stood paralyzed mid-stride. The children’s grins were empty masks; their legs were coiled, ready for a jump that wasn’t coming, like birds about to fly away. The cars and the buses had stopped. Over the suffocating silence, all I could hear was the blood drumming in my ears, my neck. I staggered back, buried my face in my hands. I didn’t want it anymore—this hideous disease I could tell no one about.

It’d been weeks, perhaps even months since the last time, and like always, I’d almost allowed myself to believe it’d never happen again. How the fuck do you sit down in front of a shrink—or worse, your social worker—and tell them that you’re doing great, except when time stops, and everyone and everything is frozen but you? Don’t worry, though, it’s been like this since I was a kid; I’m used to it. I mean, sure, I freak out a teensy bit when I wake up at night, and I see a drop of water hanging midair from my kitchen faucet, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. Nothing the right kind of meds and a straitjacket can’t fix, right, Doc?

It wouldn’t last. It never did. I massaged my skull and kept my eyes screwed shut, repeating the words in my head like a mantra: It’s almost over. It never lasts. Never. Just long enough to make me freak out in the middle of Central Park among frozen joggers and their dogs. Wax statues everywhere whose clothes wouldn’t wrinkle when I tried to touch them, water that wouldn’t wet my hands, and the silence, the silence drilling into my eardrums. I breathed through my nose. In. Out. Slowly, ticking endless seconds in my head until the hallucination passed.

Reality rushed back to me in a deep exhale. A car honked somewhere across the piazza, and the bum chugged down the rest of my can with a reassuring gurgle. A fat kid bumped into me; I was so out of it that I was the one who kept apologizing over and over as I stumbled away from the bench and toward the sidewalk. I needed to get away from the noise, the people. Right now. Scratch tourism; my new plan was to run straight to the guesthouse, check into my room, and stay curled in the dark until tomorrow.

Fighting the urge to climb on the first bus I saw, I resolved to ask for directions instead. Because my day hadn’t been shitty enough yet, might as well stack some cringeworthy social interaction in a language I hadn’t spoken in over a decade on top of it. I waved awkward fingers at a sweaty driver who sat slouched behind his wheel. “Quale . . . Autobus . . . Appia Alba?” Which . . . bus . . . Appia Alba?

My stuttering efforts were rewarded with a compassionate wince before he motioned at another station across the park with a doughy arm. “Si può prendere l’ottantasette.” I remained stuck in place, my jaw hanging limply as I slowly processed his instructions. “Ottantasette,” he repeated, before thankfully adding, “Eighty-seven.”

I gave an eager nod. “Grazie mille, signore.” Thank you very much, sir.

Well, things were looking up. If the bus didn’t freeze on its way to my guesthouse, I might even consider the trip a small victory. I strode toward the station at a brisk pace, passing the bum I’d given my beer to earlier. Dude had collapsed on the bench, using his cardboard sign to shield his leathery face from the sun while he napped. I thought of that old Phil Collins song: “Just Another Day in Paradise,” but I wasn’t really sad for him because I knew there were good and bad days on the streets, and to him, a sunny afternoon and free beer probably made for a good one.

Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t pay attention to the elegant silhouette catching up with me until a soft voice said, “Em? Is that you?”


Author Bio


Camilla Monk is a French native who grew up in a Franco-American family. After finishing her studies, she taught English and French in Tokyo before returning to France to work in advertising. Today, she builds rickety websites for financial companies and lives in Montreal, where she keeps a close watch on the squirrels and complains on a daily basis about the egregious number of Tim Hortons.

Her writing credits include the English resumes and cover letters of a great many French friends, and some essays as well. She’s also the critically acclaimed author of a few passive-aggressive notes pasted in her building’s elevator.






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Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Damaged (#2 Dark Road) Krys Fenner - Excerpt Tour






Damaged
Krys Fenner
(Dark Road #2)
Publication date: November 20th 2017
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

Hope springs eternal for everyone except Bella Kynaston. She survived the rape, but the aftermath is a whole other story. She struggles to figure out who she really is as more truths are revealed about her heritage. With no real anchor, sometimes ending it all seems like the only way out.

David has loved Bella for three years. Too bad he feels as if he no longer deserves a chance with her. Much to his surprise that’s exactly what he gets, but she’s far more damaged than he ever imagined. Still, he’ll do anything to help her even if it means losing himself in the process. Any transgression can be forgiven. Or so he thinks.

Will Bella find the peace she so desperately seeks if the pain permanently ended? Is there someone who can get to her in time? Or will the damage she’s suffered prove too much to bear?





Excerpt

The visit to the police station took longer than she’d anticipated, running into the early evening. Initially, she planned to go straight home, but she needed space after the information she’d discovered about the type of people her birth parents were. 

Not to mention the disclosure of Jorge Smith’s claims. According to him, they’d met at that Fourth of July party, where she introduced herself as Giovanna. He told the police they’d “had a good time”—that she didn’t remember and which made her, somehow, feel she deserved the attack. 

Smith also said she dodged calls he’d made to her, after.

Space wasn’t the only thing she required, though. She also needed to be reminded that happiness actually existed. That she hadn’t imagined the happiness she’d once had. So, Bella drove her new VW bug, a gift from her parents—or a bribe—to the place she remembered feeling that happiness, the only place she’d ever found true peace. Miah lived on the outskirts of Nautica Valley, about twenty minutes from her house. She had spent one night at the Detrone’s residence, the night her own home had been vandalized. Unable to sleep, she’d slipped out Mandy Detrone’s room and settled in their living room—where, after a couple of hours, Miah found her curled up on the couch. He took her to his bed for safekeeping and slept on the floor beside her. That was the first and only night she could recall actually sleeping peacefully, without nightmares. A peace she lost the day he walked out of her life.

“It’s my job to protect you.” Miah paused.

“We need to talk ... about us.”

Standing at the end of his hospital bed, Bella’s eyes locked on Miah’s. She’d heard girls talk about how those words signaled death hovering near a soon-to-be rotting corpse.

“What ... what about us?”

“I don’t think this is going to work.”

With that, she felt a stab in her heart. A hole opened up. She was wounded in a way she hadn’t known existed. “I don’t understand. Why would you think that?”

“Look at us. Look at where we are.” Miah gestured to the hospital bed he’d been laid up in. “Yeah, so I’m going home. But how long before one of us ends up back in here. Or worse. We’ve been fooling ourselves this whole time.”

Bella looked to him. She was utterly confused. He couldn’t mean that. “How?

By caring about each other? By trying to protect one another? How does that make us fools?”

“Because we aren’t protecting each other. We’re the problem. Not the solution.”

“I don’t believe that. Everything with us makes sense. Please don’t tell me this is your honest-to-God response to all that has happened.”

“This is what’s right. We can’t be together. It’s over.” Jeremiah’s face was pinched tight and his voice, harsh.

Her heart shattered. He might as well have reached in and pulled the thing out.

Because at that very moment, whatever beat beneath her chest become nothing more than an organic mechanism. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want you.”

“You said you’d never leave me,” Bella whispered.

“I lied.”

Those two words hurt more than the damage done by her attackers. Sobbing, Bella grabbed her purse and ran out the door. 

She’d broken down in a way she’d never done before. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the immensity of the heartache she’d felt with him gone. The emptiness consumed her. Prior to that night, Miah hadn’t ever seemed disturbed by their relationship. It only proved he was as good an actor as she was.

Author Bio


Krys Fenner has been infinitely passionate about writing and helping people for as long as she can remember. To date, she has published two books, numerous poems, and is now avidly working on a fantasy series. Krys received an Associate of Arts in Psychology and is currently working on her B.A.

To find out more about Krys Fenner and her upcoming book releases, visit her official website: www.krysfenner.co






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Darkest Night (#1 Sons of Broad) Tara Thomas - Release Blitz



Author 
Tara Thomas 

Genre
Romantic Suspense 

Publication Date 
27 February 2018



In this first novel in the explosive, brand-new romantic suspense Sons of Broad series from Tara Thomas comes a novel of deadly secrets and hidden danger. In the sultry streets of Charleston, one family, ruled by its powerful, take-no-prisoners sons, has risen to the top. But a merciless enemy is out to destroy them…and everyone they hold close…

SHE THOUGHT SHE’D LOST HIM FOREVER

Tilly Brock has learned—the hard way—how to take care of herself. Once a pillar of Charleston society, her family lost everything in the wake of a shocking scandal. And then Tilly lost the only boy she ever loved.

BUT NOW THAT HE’S BACK IN HER LIFE

Keaton Benedict is Charleston’s most notorious bachelor. But in spite of all his advantages—the money, the women, the family name—he longs for more: the heart of the young woman he still can’t forget.

THE DANGER HAS JUST BEGUN…

When Keaton re-enters Tilly’s life, after all these years, she is torn between feelings of doubt and desire. Can they put the past behind them and learn to love again? Tilly is willing to try. But Keaton is afraid that a vengeful enemy is watching—and waiting to destroy them. Can the rekindled flame of their love defeat the deadliest rival and light their way forward in the darkest night?









Darkest Night follows on nicely to the three part prequel which was an introduction to some of the characters in Charleston. Surprise. Surprise. "The Gentleman" continues on his path of crime and manipulations.

Keaton is the youngest of the three Benedict brothers who have the reputation of being playboys. He has just graduated and is contemplating the right direction for his future. 

Tilly was robbed of everything dear to her at a young age and has learnt to fend for herself. She is currently studying whilst waitraissing in a gentlemen's club. She is one of the few characters who featured in the prequel. 

Keaton and Tilly were good friends, even shared their first kiss as teenagers and then her life changed drastically. She hasn't seen Keaton since that dreadful day and out of the blues, he turns up at the club. They are both pleasantly surprised and even though they have changed, the friendship and familiarity they once shared haven't changed. It turns out that there have been a lot of lies and deceits of which neither of them was aware. They easily pick up where they left off. 

Someone is out to destroy the Benedict brothers and Tilly finds herself in the middle of a treacherous situation. There is a serial killer on the loose and his targets are all familiar to Tilly. Is she next? The person pulling the strings and his reasons for these atrocities remain a mystery. 

Keaton fears for her life and offers protection, but there is another party who is just as dangerous. She dislikes Tilly and is set on a relationship with Keaton, whether he likes it or not. This only adds another layer and more intrigues to what's already happening. 

I like Keaton's attitude and his mind set. Despite his wealth, he is down to earth and wants to contribute to a better world. Tilly has been through a lot of hardship, but she retains her compassion and works hard towards a better life. Their relationship is easy, comfortable and passionate. 

This romantic suspense is very well paced and full of mystery. Even though some of the mysteries are uncovered and Tilly and Keaton realise their dream, there are still a lot of questions to be answered. This first installment is a good indication of what's to come. It's compelling, intriguing and addictive. 

I was kindly issued with an eARC and the views expressed are my personal opinion.







Tara Thomas’s love of books and writing started as a child and though she wanted to be an author, she decided a degree in science was more practical. After fifteen years in the pharmaceutical industry, she returned to her first love and hasn’t looked back since.

She writes erotic romance as Tara Sue Me. Her Submissive Series novels have been on both the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller lists. Her novel The Master earned a starred review from Publishers Weekly and was awarded Best Romance of 2016 from Best Book Awards.











Duty Bound (#0.5 Angelbound Origins) Christina Bauer - Book Blitz






Duty Bound
Christina Bauer
(Angelbound Origins 0.5)
Published by: Monster House Books
Publication date: February 27th 2018
Genres: Young Adult, 
Paranormal Romance

An Angelbound Prequel Novella by Christina Bauer

As the High Prince of the demon-fighting thrax, Lincoln knows he must marry for political gain. Not that he minds. For all of his eighteen years, Lincoln’s been bound to his duty. Fighting demons is his life, and he’s never given romance a second thought. Instead, the High Prince lives for the days when he leaves his hidden realm to fight demons on Earth.

Then, everything changes.

Lincoln and his nobles become forced to visit Purgatory, the home of quasi-demons (who are mostly human with a bit of demonic DNA). Here Lincoln spies Myla Lewis, a lady warrior who enflames his heart, ignites his interest, and inspires his respect. Trouble is, Myla’s also a quasi. By thrax law, Lincoln must kill anything demonic—not date them. For the first time in his life, Lincoln wonders if he’ll follow his duty…or heed the demands of his heart.







Grab Angelbound 
Book 1 – for FREE






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I am Lincoln Vidar Osric Aquilus, High Prince of the Thrax. My people are renowned as the greatest demon hunters across Heaven, Hell, Earth, Purgatory, and the Dark Lands. At eighteen years old, I’ve killed precisely one thousand four hundred and thirty-seven demons in hand-to-hand combat, more than any other thrax in history. All of which leads to a single inescapable conclusion.

I can make it through this breakfast with my mother.

At least, I think I can.

“You haven’t touched your eggs, my son.” 

Mother spears a strawberry off her plate.

After many years of maternal encounters, I’ve learned to keep my mouth closed in situations like this one. Mother will bring up her true concerns when she’s good and ready.

In reply, I merely maintain her stare. 

We’ve an odd relationship, but a close one.

We’re both natural schemers, so neither wants to pass up a test of intelligence and charm.

“Perhaps you dislike formal breakfasts,” says Mother as she gestures to my tunic.

“I’m fine with wearing royal garb to meals. Rest assured, all my Batman costumes are safely packed away.” As a child, I fought hard to dress as a human superhero. Unlike demon killing, that was one battle I ultimately lost.

“So you say.” A small smile rounds Mother’s mouth. “Those tunics hide quite a lot.”

“True. I’ve a Bohemian Rhapsody T-shirt on under this thing.”

“I have no idea what that is, but I’m pleased to see you turned out so well.”

This morning, I’m dressed in a velvet tunic, leather pants, and tall boots.

Meanwhile, Mother looks regal and lethal in her black velvet gown. She has porcelain skin, delicate features, and an all-knowing glare that reduces hardened warriors to mush.

Needless to say, I’m pleased that her glare has softened. I must remember to work Batman into our conversations more often.

For a few minutes, Mother and I continue our breakfast in silence. It would be pleasant, except for the setting. Our new feasting hall is located in Purgatory.

Yes, Purgatory.

This place combines the worst of a rundown human suburb with the best of a rotting Dumpster. The sky is constantly cloudy with two types of weather: rainy and about to rain. It’s part of the magic of this realm that the weather is always dreary. Plus, the sky never reveals the sun or moon, and even if it did, those celestial bodies follow different patterns than they do in other realms.

Closing my eyes, I let my thoughts return to the glittering caverns of my homeland. As a rule, thrax live underground on Earth in the realm of Antrum. For some reason, the oracle angel, Verus, has demanded the royal family—and our noble entourage—move to Purgatory for a short period of time. This wasn’t a popular idea, but the oracle’s word is law, so we arrived here three months ago. Until Verus sets us loose, our days will be spent in tents and wooden halls like this one.

I scan the empty benches around me and sigh. It’s hard being separated from the bulk of my people. Quiet breakfasts like this only make things worse. Usually our feasting hall is packed with thrax sharing breakfast at communal tables. However, today Mother insisted on having a family-only morning meal, which in this case translates into me, Mother, and a half-dozen terrified workers. Father should get here any minute now. I can only hope he arrives before Mother’s temper returns.

As if in reply to my thoughts, Mother spears another wilted strawberry with a vengeance. Looks like her temper will resurface before Father does. Bugger.

“You never answered my question,” says Mother. “You haven’t touched your food.”

She spears a grape with such force the entire table wobbles.

“Careful there,” I say. “You’ll bring down the roof down.”

“One perk of being queen. I can bring down roofs and no one says a thing.”

At those words, the half-dozen servants in the room visibly shiver.

There’s no question about the general topic of Mother’s angst, either. It’s always the same issue: the House of Acca. That tribe is the largest and most troublesome of all thrax.

At this point, problems with Acca could fall into one of two categories.

One, Mother might be worried about my impending marriage contract with Acca’s most eligible noblewoman, Lady Adair. If Mother thinks there are problems on that front, she would be sorely mistaken. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more. I’d regret that, but I’m a prince. I always knew I’d never marry for love.

Two—and far more worrisome—would be if Mother discovered my ongoing scheme against Aldred, the dreaded Earl of Acca himself. I’ve many issues with the Earl, but my largest is how Aldred keeps leading his warriors into ill-planned demon attacks on the Earth’s surface.

Thanks to the Earl of Acca, hundreds of good thrax meet bad ends every week. I meet with the families of the fallen, trying to provide comfort as their worlds fall apart. So many tears and ruined lives…and all so the Earl can prove his so-called prowess in battle.

It’s outrageous.

Even worse, my parents have forbidden me from doing anything to stop Aldred’s bloodshed. Per some ancient treaty, if I interfere with Aldred’s rights to lead his troops, then the Earl has the unmitigated right to execute me on the spot.

And as every royal knows, execution threats and breakfast do not mix well.




Author Bio


Christina Bauer knows how to tell stories about kick-ass women. In her best selling Angelbound series, the heroine is a part-demon girl who loves to fight in Purgatory’s Arena and falls in love with a part-angel prince. This young adult best seller has driven more than 500,000 ebook downloads and 9,000 reviews on Goodreads and retailers.

Bauer has also told the story of the Women’s March on Washington by leading PR efforts for the Massachusetts Chapter. Her pre-event press release—the only one sent out on a major wire service—resulted in more than 19,000 global impressions and redistribution by over 350 different media entities including the Associated Press.

Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.





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