Grab yourself full books and amazing samples in a multitude of genres, including romance, thriller, mystery, horror and more. So what are you waiting for? Click the link below to grab yours!
Grab yourself full books and amazing samples in a multitude of genres, including romance, thriller, mystery, horror and more. So what are you waiting for? Click the link below to grab yours!
I’m taking part in this amazing promotion for audiobooks! Check out the link below for a bunch of amazing audiobooks in the paranormal, romance, mystery and thriller and fantasy categories!
I’m taking part in the Show Me the Reads Kindle Unlimited Book Promotion organised by Erin Bedford, which runs for the whole of June. It highlights a huge bunch of books which you can read for free as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription. The variety of genres is amazing too – fantasy, romance, paranormal, erotica and more.
Check out the books here: https://www.erinbedford.com/ku
Fifty-two weeks, four royal families, one war. Week one – January 1st – January 7th Rose (The Two of Clubs) is the youngest of all the Royals of Vanatus, and she has a lot to prove. Born a princess, but with the heart of a warrior, she struggles to keep her two lives separate. By day, a perfect princess, but in the dark of night, she slips out to practice being all she ever wanted to be, a warrior like her brothers. When a dragon kidnaps some children from the royal castle, she must act quickly, but the snap decision sets off a chain of events that lead to the first war in the history of Vanatus, spelling disaster for both her and her family. Follow the lives and loves of the fifty-two members of The Houses of Club, Heart, Diamond and Spade in real time as they struggle to maintain peace in the world of Vanatus. This is a New Adult fantasy series set over the course of one whole year. This particular book is the first in the series and is set over the first week from New Year’s Day to 7th January from the eyes of Rose Club. Each book in the series will be shown through the eyes of a different character, all within the world of Vanatus. Each book can be read as a standalone book (no cliffhangers), but the overall arc of the war will play in the background throughout. This is New Adult so there will be some swearing, mild violence, and sexual references.
The Hearts, Diamonds, and Spades were supposed to be kept to the nicer parts of the castle. No one was supposed to see the kitchens. Not that I suspected the sleeping Heart girl currently wrapped around my elder brother actually cared what the state of the kitchen was. Still, our father, the King, would be upset that someone from one of the other clans had seen that we weren’t the perfect royal family we proclaimed to be and that we did, in fact, have messy kitchens – very messy this morning. Who would get the blame for this? Not Tarragon, that’s for sure. Tarragon was only the Four of Clubs, but he was one of Father’s favourites. I, on the other hand, was the lowliest of all. As the Two of Clubs, I ranked only slightly higher than the mice that sometimes frequented the kitchen despite the hard work of Fluff, the palace cat. And it was I who would get the blame for this.
I glanced at the Heart woman. Usually, you could tell a Heart from the clothes they wore, the most ridiculous ‘high fashion’ which usually consisted of a lot of lace, tulle, feathers and leather, but as I couldn’t see the rest of her, I guessed that she was completely naked under the heap of coats. She was unmistakably a Heart, though. Even with a lack of clothes, I could tell. Red hair fell in waves down the flawless porcelain skin on her naked back. She looked perfect and sensuous in every way, another rather annoying trait of The Hearts. They just didn’t have bad hair days!
“Oy,” I whispered to my wayward brother. The drill-like snoring turned into a grunt so I stuck a toe in his side.
“Wha…? Oh, it’s you!” He actually closed his eyes again, pretending to fall right back asleep. He was in for a shock if he thought I was going to leave him here.
“Will you get her out of here, please? I have to clean the kitchen to get it ready for the cooks.” I might have been the lowest member of the family, but I’d developed into someone my mother described as ‘a wilful child’ and my father called ‘a pain in the ass’. Tarragon knew he had no chance of being left alone with his new plaything.
“What time is it?” He opened his eyes again. His chin was damp with dribble, and he had streamers still weaved through his hair like a multicoloured wig. I couldn’t resist giving him an eye roll.
“It doesn’t matter what time it is. If father catches you with her, there will be hell to pay, and I don’t want to be involved. Why did you bring her down here anyway? She could be a spy.” Unlikely, as she’d actually been invited to the castle along with the rest of her family. And unless The Hearts had a secret desire to learn how much kitchen cleaner we used (not a lot it seemed), then the chances of her being sent down here to spy were slim. Still, Tarragon didn’t need to know that.
“Why do you think I brought her down here? Can you not see her? She’s gorgeous.”
I scowled. His complete disregard for the rules irritated me. It didn’t matter how beautiful the woman was, she was still a Heart and therefore completely untrustworthy. If her father caught them together, well, it didn’t bear thinking about.
“She’s a Heart!” I stated the obvious, knowing that Tarragon was fully aware that she was a Heart, and that was more than likely the reason he’d bedded her in the first place.
“Isn’t this whole party thing to get the clans together so we can cooperate and live in a peaceful land? This is why we all come together at this time of year.” He gave that leisurely grin that women of all races seemed to fall for. It wasn’t going to work on me, though. I was mad!
“Yes, but I don’t think that you are supposed to come together quite so literally!”
“Or quite so many times,” grinned Tarragon.
Born in a small town, J.Armitage longed for adventure and travel.
Age 20 she moved to Dublin, then to San Diego, then Sydney and back to California where she did a brief stint working at Universal Studios being a minder to Sponge Bob.
Once back in Britain she got married, had babies and decided to write about the adventure she was now missing out on. She works full time, is a mum to three kids and has had a surrogate baby.
She has skydived twice (and survived), climbed Kilimanjaro and hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. She has also worked as a professional clown and banana picker amongst other jobs.
Somehow she finds time to write.
Reviews for J.A.Armitage’s work.
Endless Winter is a unique story that takes place in a beautiful world. J.A. Armitage’s writing is lyrical and almost poetic. Janelle Fila for Readers’ Favorite
I devoured this book like a rich box of chocolates. Sara C Roethle
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The idea behind Two of Clubs
There are fifty two weeks in the year and the same number of cards in a deck. I thought it would be crazy to write one book for every week of the year. Each one is a different character, named after a playing card, living in the same world and through the same war that plagues the fictional world of Vanatus. Each chapter is a day. Eventually, I hope to have 52 books released comprising of 365 chapters so you can read a chapter a day for the whole year 🙂
I don’t think anything like this has ever been done before. If 52 books sounds daunting, each book is a separate story and has an ending. They are standalones, if you will, but with the arc of the war playing in the background throughout.
I hope you enjoy 🙂
Here are the links to Two of Clubs, plus some of the following books which are available on pre-order
Two of Clubs: http://amzn.to/2e5gHKH
Three of Clubs: http://amzn.to/2ejXAJx
Four of Clubs: http://amzn.to/2ejVrSt
Five of Clubs: http://amzn.to/2f4z5D7
Read on for an exclusive excerpt and a chance to win the Wicked Enchantment Tiara
By Sabrina York
Consigned to a magical prison, Sir Keeshan has suffered torment after torment for thousands of years. The curse of a powerful Djinn entombed him in the lamp, damning him to an eternity of pleasing the women who come to him—but never grasping true love. Every hundred years or so, a new woman comes to him and they are both are ensnared in a web of dark desire. And then, just as he grows to care for her, she is spirited away, back to the world. Such is the nature of his curse.
But when Aimalee arrives, Keeshan knows something is different. She is different. And his feelings for her are undeniable. He has no idea how long they will have together and, desperate to not waste a second of his time with her, Keeshan cannot help but indulge his every craving…and hers.
When the clever minx helps him solve a mystery that has been haunting him for ages, he can’t help but hope she may be the one to help him break the curse.
Hope is a dangerous thing in enchanted surrounds, especially because he knows her departure, when it comes, will destroy him.
Magical, fantasy romance…with a twist from Sabrina York
READ AN EXCERPT
Aimalee shivered as an unfamiliar inclination struck her. She wanted to drop the pillow and press her body against him. Rub against him. He was so beautiful. So perfect. She longed to touch him.
Of its own volition, her hand rose. At the last instant, just before their flesh connected, she curled her fingers.
He winced as she withdrew, winced as though she’d slapped him. Tiny tears clung to his lashes. “Please, Aimalee.” His voice was ragged. “Please touch me.”
She stepped away, ignoring the desolation sweeping across his countenance. It cost her but she forced those primal urges down, back into her subconscious where they belonged. Something wasn’t right here. Women didn’t just suddenly transport into sumptuous bowers. Gorgeous men with smoldering eyes didn’t simply appear from thin air. And most importantly, Aimalee didn’t have thoughts like this.
She never had.
She couldn’t give in to these cravings. Not until she understood what was happening to her. Her analytical mind would not allow it.
As though he could read her thoughts, a frown marred his sculpted brow in fascinating furrows. He stepped closer and closer still—though not close enough to touch. His breath was warm on her face. “Don’t fight it, Aimalee. You cannot resist. Please don’t try.” He bent closer and his nostrils flared like a stallion catching the scent of a filly in season. He licked his lips.
My but they were beautiful lips.
And my, oh my. He smelled of sandalwood and sin. The combination made her head spin. She desperately attempted to eradicate these errant thoughts. “Where am I? What happened?” More questions swirled but this was a good place to start.
“Please.” Beads of sweat dimpled his upper lip. Heat roiled from his broad chest. Everything about him was hard. “Not now. No questions now.” He whirled away with a growl, showing her his back, frustration clear in every rigid line. As he moved, the dim light glinted off the metal encircling his neck. Aimalee realized it was hewn of the same strange iridescent metal of the lamp.
Certainty dawned and with it a sense of incredulity. “I’m inside the lamp.”
He shot a glance at her over his hunched shoulder, a wounded animal. “Y-you touched it.”
“I’ve touched it many times before.”
“Many times.” A shudder racked him. He began to shiver, to shake. “But never with…never with…” Never with…what? He didn’t complete the thought, as though the words were too painful to utter. He moaned in agony and stumbled into the shadows.
She followed, racked with worry—he looked as though he was dying—and lightly touched his shoulder. He froze at the contact, sucking in a deep gasp of air, exhaling it on a small whimper. As their flesh connected, a sizzle shot up her arm, rocketing to her core. Something tight within her released.
And then she realized…the release hadn’t come from within her.
It had come from within him.
Invisible chains binding him shattered and fell away.
He straightened and stood. Sublime relief descended upon him like a cloud. “Thank you,” he gasped. “Thank you, Aimalee.” He drew his knuckles along the curve of her shoulder then trailed down her arm, sending riots of sensation through her. “You touched it with your bare hands, you see. And the lamp brought you to me,” he said, answering her earlier—long forgotten—question. He caressed her hand, lifted it to his lips then drew her thumb into his mouth and gently sucked.
Molten lava, deep in her core, churned and spat.
She knew she should not allow this. She knew she should pull away. The voice of sanity within her whispered as much. Trouble was, that voice of sanity was starting to recede. “W-why?” It was the only word she could manage. The only thought she could conjure.
He kissed her knuckles, one by one. “You are here for me, Aimalee. For this.” His scalding touch trailed back up her arm. She jerked in reaction but didn’t protest. Her body was heavy, drugged with desire. Her mind befuddled, rapt in it. Enthralled.
He tugged gently at the pillow she held before her. She watched in mute dismay as he tossed her armor carelessly aside. “God, Aimalee. You are even more beautiful in the flesh.”
Reverently, he cupped her breast. And then his head descended and those lips—those delicious lips—wrapped around a coral crest. Sucked. Pleasure rocked her. Exquisite trills danced along her spine. Tremors rippled through her womb.
But still…she resisted. As difficult as it was to fight against the alluring enchantment he was weaving—and it was difficult—she lurched back and gasped, “Who are you?”
Instead of answering, he scraped her nipple—sending spirals of delight coiling up her spine. Oh! It was getting harder and harder to resist him. Harder to focus on her outrage as he enticed her deeper into his web.
But she was not the only one besieged by temptation. His body was taut as a bowstring; he fairly hummed with the tension.
He pulled her into his arms. The shock of his hot skin against hers from chest to groin made her light-headed. He traced the line of her back from her buttocks to her shoulder blades.
“I am sorry, Aimalee,” he murmured, his tone limned with remorse. “But I cannot answer your questions anymore. I cannot wait. It has been far too long.” He lifted her hair and bent to place a gentle kiss on her nape. With his tongue, his velvet, drugging tongue, he traced a strange and sinuous symbol there.
A peculiar warmth blossomed where he’d licked her. It drifted down her arms, across her chest, infused her body and soul. Her nipples tightened. Her body liquefied. A hot rush of arousal seeped from her womb. Her clitoris throbbed and a scorching hunger growled and snapped like a long-caged beast.
She wanted him.
She wanted him like she had never wanted a man before. Savagely.
She ached to fist her fingers in his hair and drag him down on top of her. To take his lips with her own. Suck on his tongue. Consume him. Grind against that magnificent cock until he howled with need. Until he took her. Fucked her. Impaled her.
Her mind reeled with pleasure and passion…and confusion.
What was this?
This was not like her.
Not like her at all.
Hadn’t Carter told her repeatedly that she was frigid?
She had never wanted like this. Ached like this. Needed like this.
“What are you doing to me?” Even to her own ears, the cry was laced with pleasure, desire, delirium. She placed her palm flat on his chest to push him away but at that touch, passion swelled—the passion in her and the passion in him, tangling, twining. His skin was smooth but his hard muscles bunched beneath her touch.
He threw his head back and groaned in ecstasy. Or perhaps agony. Or both.
“I can’t. I need… I want to…” He hissed through his teeth. “But I cannot wait. I cannot.”
Easing her down onto the cushions, he covered her. The sensation of his hot, sweat-dampened skin against hers sent a shock wave through her. He nudged her legs apart. Neared. She writhed beneath him, eager, wanton, lost in wonder. Ravenous for him. Impatient.
He did not make her wait.
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About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & snarky to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.
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Thanks so much for having me on your blog today! My new novel Empress of Storms is an unusual book for me on a number of fronts. For one thing, it’s my first MF high fantasy erotic romance (and never did I think those words would be used in reference to me).
Secondly, EoS was prompted by a challenge. Some of you may remember a certain author kicking off a kerfluffle in September by putting up a GoFundMe fund in order to write full-time. Which is totally cool, and I support the Patreon concept 100%.
That being said, the writer demonstrated a, let us say, unrealistic worldview on professional writing. After receiving both even-tempered remonstrating and plain old ridicule, she lashed out at her critics with the following:
“I’d like to challenge each and every one of these wonderful women to a writing contest. How about an 80K (that’s 80,000 words people, not dollars!) novel. It needs to be fully edited, proofed and a professional cover designed for it. Oh, and they have only 6 months to do all this. Ok, go.”
Well, I can’t pass up a challenge. I announced that I would go one better and finish an 80K novel, have it fully edited, proofed, and provided with a professional cover in six weeks, and release it as an ebook and trade paperback in November.
Let me take a moment to point out that every writer has his or her own speed. Some write fast, some write slow. Any speed you write at is fine. You do you, baby. But taking an 80K novel from zero to “Whoops, it’s on Amazon” within six m/o/n/t/h/s/ weeks is just not as impossible as some people seem to think. Part of this challenge was to show that it’s possible to do this without sacrificing quality, and while still maintaining something of a life.
I will be perfectly transparent here and state that I did not make my original six-week deadline (due to a killer sinus infection and various stresses on the home front). I did it in seven weeks. Still not bad if I do say so myself.
I’ve also been asked why I’m using Nicola M. Cameron on Empress of Storms. I lifted the idea from the late, brilliant Iain Banks who wrote mainstream fiction as Iain Banks and science fiction as Iain M. Banks. It was a way of differentiating between the two genres without having to use a pseudonym, and I decided to use the same trick here. Nicola Cameron is pretty much associated with MM/MMM fiction by this point, so if you pick up a Nicola Cameron book that’s what you’ll get, whereas Nicola M. Cameron writes MF fiction with occasional forays into MMF. I like to make readers’ lives easier, you see.
“You’re not what I expected, Danaë.”
“So I gathered. You’re different as well. And I’m very pleased with that.” She reached out and tugged at a curl of his chest hair. “So, shall we try this again?”
“I think we should.” He held up the taper. “With the light or without?”
“With, if it’s all the same to you. I want to enjoy the sight of my new husband.”
“I suspect I’m the one who will be doing the bulk of the enjoying, but as you wish.” Matthias put the candle back on the side table. He was now cast in shadow, but Danaë could still see him well enough. He slid down until he was on his side facing her. “I’m afraid I’m out of practice with bedroom matters. What would you like to do now?”
She thought. He hadn’t kissed her yet, at least not above the collarbones. “I’d like a proper kiss. The one you gave me after the ceremony may have been acceptable for public consumption, but I hope it’s not how you kiss in private.”
“It isn’t.” He moved closer, stroking her shoulder with a finger. “And my apologies for that. I suspect I’ll be apologizing for much of what happened this day.”
“No apologies are needed if you kiss me.”
He did, a sweet brush of lips that made her mouth tingle with anticipation. The next kiss caught her lower lip between his. He sucked gently on the plump flesh, letting it slide free with a soft pop. Their faces were too close to see him smile, but she could feel it somehow.
“You have honey in your kisses, Danaë,” he murmured.
“Only for you, Matthias.”
She dimpled. “Kiss me again and find out.”
This time his kiss was stronger, hungrier. She responded with an equal need, cupping his cheeks and immersing herself in the intoxicating taste of Matthias’s mouth. He tasted of wine and the roast from dinner, and some secret flavor that was unique to him, something dark and very male. It was perfect, sating a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed. She fell back against her pillows and he followed, their tongues sliding against each other in a twisting dance.
He finally pulled back, gasping. “It’s a good thing I didn’t kiss you like that earlier today,” he said. “I would’ve taken you in front of the entire cathedral.”
“Perhaps a bit more than the nobles of Ypres needed to see,” she agreed, breathless. “Not to mention my brother and Patriarch Reniel.”
Matthias tilted her chin up, nuzzling the soft skin of her jaw. “He would’ve had me building shrines in atonement to the end of my days. And your brother would have run me through.”
“Which would have caused an unpleasant international incident.” She arched when his mouth hit a sensitive spot on her neck. “Not to mention I would have to have him executed for killing my husband.”
“It’s a good thing we avoided all that, then,” Matthias agreed, licking delicate spirals on her skin down towards her breast. He stopped at the point where the flesh began to mound and kissed his way to her nipple. Dragging the very tip of his tongue around the areola, he then flicked it across the stiff little nub. “Best we save such things for the privacy of our bed.”
A king who must offer himself as royal consort to fulfill a treaty. A young queen and mage, unexpectedly married to the man she’s loved since childhood. Two countries, divided by geography and united by a political marriage, are poised on the brink of a golden age. But will vicious magic and unexpected betrayal tear both the royal couple and their kingdoms apart?
When King Matthias of Ypres has to fulfill a treaty and provide a royal consort for young Queen Danäe of Hellas, the only royal available for marriage is … him. Can he risk letting a blue-haired witch queen into his heart?
From political necessity, Queen Danäe finds herself marrying the man she secretly loves. Now she must win the heart of a king, prove herself as a mage, and defeat the enemies that threaten them both.
Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.
Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).
Website /Blog: http://www.nicolacameronwrites.com
Warrior (Breeder 3) blurb
A female fighting for freedom. A male armed with determination. Can they save their people?
As a despotic Qalin marches through Parseon intent on conquering every province, Commander Marlix pledges his sister to another Alpha to protect her. Desperate to decide her own fate, Anika flees and finds refuge with the guerilla resistance movement against Qalin. Marlix’s aide Urazi hunts her down to bring her home to fulfill her duty. But when love blossoms between them, and provinces fall to Qalin, Anika and Urazi realize home has ceased to exist, and they are all that stand between the people of Parseon and the end of the world.
Warrior is the third and final book of the Breeder science fiction romance series, but it can be read as a stand-alone.
“If I had not killed Grogan, he would have beaten and used you.”
Urazi had witnessed Grogan striking her, so the first part came as no surprise, but how could he have known the alpha had intended to avail himself of her?
“Do you think I could not read his behavior? That I did not notice him rubbing himself against you? Do you think I am mentally deficient?” Urazi growled. “If I had not intervened, you would have joined forces against Marlix, Dak, and Ilian without knowing it.”
Anika’s face heated with guilt and shame.
“You are impulsive! Rash,” Urazi continued to rail. “You fled without concern for the consequences.”
“I knew the consequences! Marlix would have sent me to Ilian.”
Urazi looked away. “Commander Ilian would have kept you safe.”
“Maybe safety represents the greatest danger of all.”
“Your words do not make sense.”
“I wish to choose what I do. “
“Protocol makes the choice for you.”
“Protocol. Protocol. Protocol! I am sick of Protocol.” Anika stomped around, too angry to remain still.
“It is the way. Our way.”
“Our way allowed Corren, Commander Dak’s beta, to slit my throat and leave me for dead.” Anika traced the fine scar bisecting her neck. “It allowed Qalin’s guards to hunt Tara and me, to kill Tara’s friend Ramon.”
“That is not the fault of Protocol, but of the individuals involved,” Urazi said.
Anika shook her head. “No. It creates the environment that encourages such behavior.”
“That is incor—”
“Protocol allows the male offspring of my sire to send me to whomever he wishes without concern for my desires.” Anika cut him off.
“Ilian is Alpha. He is the best possible choice for you.”
“Qalin is Alpha, too. Would he not be a best possible choice?”
“Now you speak rubbish.” Urazi turned away.
“You know I am right.”
“I know we all have our duty. In obedience, we achieve honor.”
“Easy for you to say. You are male. Your duty affords you some choices.”
“I am beta. Do you not think I wish for more?” Urazi whipped around, his gray eyes ablaze. “But I owe my allegiance to Parseon and to my Alpha! I accept that.”
“Well, I do not!” If she had a hammer she would not be able to pound understanding into his stony male brain. He would never empathize with her position. No male could. Anika clenched her hands into fists. If she were a male, she would have punched him by now. Old and new resentments ballooned. If she could not calm herself, she would explode. She would punch him. Anika stomped toward the forest.
“Come back here!”
She ignored him. He did not get a choice in the matter. Let him see what it was like to have one’s wishes overruled.
“Anika, I warn you….” Urazi’s voice hardened.
She faltered, responding to the command, habit and lifelong training overruling self-determination. But only if she let it. I am more than what I have been taught. Anika whirled around, folded all her fingers except for the middle one, and showed him her hand. Tara had called it flipping the coro and explained it was a very rude, dismissive gesture on Terra. It would be more satisfying if Urazi knew what it meant, but, for now, it was enough that she did. She spun around and marched toward the woods.
Cara Bristol bio
Cara Bristol continues to evolve, adding new subgenres of erotic romance to her repertoire. She has written spanking romance, contemporary romance, paranormal, and science fiction romance. No matter what the genre, one thing remains constant: her emphasis on character-driven seriously hot erotic stories with sizzling chemistry between the hero and heroine. Cara has lived many places in the United States, but currently lives in Missouri with her husband. She has two grown stepkids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading and traveling.