Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic-Review

Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (The Dowser #3)Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic by Meghan Ciana Doidge

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This series is so much fun. I already have the next one on cue. Love the cast of characters with their less than perfect and often hilarious relationships and the emotional turmoil that Jade carries inside of her over her evil sister who she still loves. I loved pretty much everything about this book but I must say that the addition of the teenage dragon just cracked me up. Great book.

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Pure Dumb Luck- Release Blitz

Dahlia Donovan has a new contemporary MM romance out:

Pure Dumb Luck.

Pure Dumb Luck

When two small-town country dudes win the lottery, they finally find the courage to speak their truth.

An unexpected adventure follows.

Linwood “Woody” Robinson has a routine. He works for his baby brother in construction, buys three lottery tickets every week, and lusts after his best friend from high school. He’s done the same thing for twenty years.

Eddison “Eddie” Howard owns the only gas station in their small South Carolina town, sells lottery tickets, and lusts after his best friend from afar. They joke around but never speak their truth. He knows they’re cowards but can’t seem to find the courage to bridge the gulf between them.

And then they win eighty million dollars.

Life changes.

They go from never talking about their feelings to facing the world together.

Can anything pull them apart?

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Excerpt

Pure Dumb Luck meme - Dahlia Donovan“Go inside. Buy your lottery tickets. Shoot the shit—all calm and natural-like.” Woody gripped the steering wheel of his pickup truck tightly, trying to talk himself into getting out of it. A familiar pep talk. Familiar and oft repeated. “You’ve known Eddie since elementary school. You’ve been staring at his ass since he played quarterback to your running back in junior high. No point in getting all fucking weird around him now.”

Patting the bobblehead football player on his dashboard for good luck, Woody reluctantly slipped out of his truck. He slammed the door and plastered a grin on his face. Lottery tickets wouldn’t buy themselves.

And Eddie had already seen his truck. If he ran away now, he’d never hear the end of it. The temptation to get back into his vehicle was strong.

C’mon.

This is not even close to the hardest part of your day.

Except it had definitely become the most difficult daily event. Woody had never considered himself a coward, yet every single morning, he walked into the gas station to see his best friend, the person he’d been in love with for years, and said nothing beyond small talk.

He never told the truth of the ache in his heart growing too painful to ignore. He couldn’t. What if Eddie rejected him?

“Your usual?”

Woody grinned at Eddie, who ran thefamily-ownedgas station in their little country town nestled in the middle of a national forest in the southern Appalachian Mountains. “You know me. Boring as shit. I’m consistent, at least.”

“One large coffee, one pack of powdered donuts, and three lottery tickets. Two for you, one for me.” Eddie rolled his dark brown eyes and held out a large hand for the card Woody held out to him. “You never change, dude. You’ve been doing this for twenty years—since high school. I know Coach said you were full of dumb luck, but I don’t think he meant with the Mega Millions.”

“Have a little faith, Eddie.” He grabbed both his breakfast and the lottery tickets, winking at his oldest friend, who hadn’t changed much in the thirty years since they’d known each other. Still as fucking hot as the day I first saw him in the shower at the gym. His warm brown skin had glistened under the shower. Maybe stop thinking about Eddie naked in the middle of the gas station. “We still on for fishing this weekend?”

“Unless you get lucky with your numbers. If you do, we’ll go fishing on a yacht instead of your granddaddy’s rickety old boat.” He tapped a finger against the ticket stub in Woody’s hand. “Go on. Get your ass out of here. You’re ruining the atmosphere. Plus, I like watching you leave.”

For the past twenty years, they’d danced around each other. Woody had given up on anything happening between them outside of harmless flirting. Maybe it was too clichéd—two former jocks who fell in love on the football field finally getting their chance in their late thirties.

It sounded like a cheesy movie plot.

The only way I’m getting lucky at this point is with the lottery tickets.

And I’m all out of luck with that as well.


Author Bio

Dahlia Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive collection of books and video games.

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A Fun Extra

Life at home hadn’t sucked. But Eddie hadn’t realized how much stress he’d been under. Now, in the mountains, resting against his best friend and lover, he noticed for the first time how much tension had gone from his body.

The following morning rain began to drizzle down on them. Better than a monsoon, but it made clambering over rocks complicated. Eddie made good use of their hiking sticks.

And then stumbled, skidded, and fell face-first up the trail.

“Shut. Your. Pie. Hole,” Eddie grunted through gritted teeth at the snickering Woody who was out of sight. He lay flat on the ground, trying to catch his breath and assess the damage. “If you don’t quit laughing, I’m shoving you off the mountain.”

“Hard to do when you’re face-first in the dirt.” Woody crouched beside his head. “You all right? Want a hand up?”

“Damaged pride.” Eddie didn’t think he’d broken or strained anything. He’d definitely bashed his knees and hands on the way down. “A few bruises and scrapes.”

“I can think of better ways to bruise your knees.”

“Kiss my grass.” Eddie climbed to his feet, putting a hand on Woody’s shoulder for stability. “Let’s not do that again.”

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Amalgamated- Release Blitz

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Amalgamated

Author: Becca Seymour

Publisher: Rainbow Tree Publishing

Cover Artist: Soxsational Cover Art

Release Date: September 28, 2019

Genre/s: Small-Town M/M Romance

Trope/s: Friends to lovers, May to December,

Themes: Forgiveness

Heat Rating: 3 flames

Length: 18 000 words/70 pages approx.

It is a standalone story.

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Realigned (Coming Home #1) – FREE READ

 

 

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Escape with Leo and Zak in outback Australia as they discover it sometimes takes time, distance, and interfering family to amalgamate.

 

Blurb

After five years of living in the UK, it’s time for Leo to return home to his dad’s stud farm in outback Australia. He has no idea what to expect when he arrives. He didn’t exactly leave with balloons and banners.

Nope. His farewell involved destruction and his own heart split in two.

He knows seeing the man who’s always held his heart, Zak, is going to be awkward. The older farm manager made his feelings pretty damn clear when Leo hightailed it out of there.

Leo quickly figures out life is going to get complicated and a whole heap more exciting as his trip home becomes so much more.

Amalgamated is a fun and steamy M/M short story in Becca Seymour’s Coming Home series. Stand-alone romances complete with heat, wit, and happily ever afters.

 

 

Excerpt

“Promise you won’t be mad.”

Groaning, I shook my head. Any request starting that way was going to result in me being pissed off. “What did you do?”

This time her glance my way had me tensing. Concern flickered in her eyes. When she focused on the road ahead, she blew out her cheeks, her lips pursed. “We’re heading to mine.”

“Okay?” I dragged out the word. I’d figured that out since we weren’t heading towards Dad and Michelle’s.

“Dad kinda got excited about you coming home.”

My stomach dipped. I just knew where she was heading with this. Slamming my eyes shut, I waited for her next words.

They came out in a rush. “Sohekindainvitedaheapofpeopleover. But…” She gasped for breath. “…it’s not technically a party, as there aren’t banners or balloons.”

My eyes sprang open, and I stared at her wide-eyed.

She glanced at me, a mix of horror and amusement on her face. “You owe me big for talking him out of that.”

“Yet you couldn’t have talked him into a small family meal?”

She shrugged. “I did try, but, Leo.” She paused, emotion swirling in her eyes, and I swallowed. This was just one of the reasons I’d stayed away. Guilt still clawed at me whenever I gave it life. “Dad was so excited you were coming home. You know he still doesn’t understand why you left. If it had just been heading to the city, that would have been a struggle, but you travelled to the other side of the world.”

My gut clenched. I still felt shit for leaving my dad, but I had my own life to live, and taking over my dad’s stud farm wasn’t what I wanted. Plus there was the major screw-up with how I destroyed any semblance of a friendship with Zak.

“There’s more.”

I flashed Jen a resigned look.

“Dad obviously invited Zak.”

My heart seized, and my gut churned. This could not be happening. While I’d anticipated seeing him, I wasn’t prepared for it to be the first night I got home. In hindsight, this was ridiculously naïve of me, considering his place was only a hundred metres or so away from the main house on the property.

“I know, I know, but best to get the whole awkwardness out of the way, right?” She reached out and gave my hand a small squeeze. After I’d run out on Zak the night I’d left, it had taken just a handful of calls from Jen for her to recognize something was wrong and for me to spill my guts. We remained close, even with the distance of the past five years, and without her in my corner, life certainly would have been trickier.

“Yeah, I suppose.” There was something to be said for ripping the Band-Aid off, but my gut clenched in anticipation.

 

About the Author

Becca Seymour lives and breathes all things book related. Usually with at least three books being read and two WiPs being written at the same time, life is merrily hectic. She tends to do nothing by halves so happily seeks the craziness and busyness life offers.

Living on her small property in Queensland with her human family as well as her animal family of cows, chooks, and dogs, Becca appreciates the beauty of the world around her and is a believer that love truly is love.

 

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A Court of Wings and Ruin- Review

A Court of Wings and Ruin (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #3)A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

How come there aren’t more than five stars to rate a book???? I don’t have words to express how much I loved this book. Anyone who makes me cry and cuss out the author in my car while parked before going to work is an extraordinary writer. And Sarah Maas did just that. I was so brokenhearted that morning after reading one of the last and most emotional chapters, that I was in a bad mood all day. Love, love, love. Enough said.

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From The Darkness

 

Three years ago I signed a contract with a new publisher for my second book, Desert Jewel, and what would become The Jewel Chronicles series. Rebel Jewel was just released yesterday marking my eleventh publication in four years. So why am I bringing this up now?

That year I was in a bad place. I had suffered from bouts of mild depression throughout my life but nothing prepared me for what that year would bring down on me. It wasn’t one isolated thing and it didn’t have anything to do with a death in the family or an illness. It was just a combination of many things throughout the space of a few years all rolled into what turned out to be the perfect storm that almost took me under.

I won’t go into details about everything that went wrong in my life during those years but they were both family and work related. By then I had been navigating many downs in my personal and professional life, but what happened that year was the proverbial drop that overflowed my very full cup.

adult black and white darkness face

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Going to work that year was unbearable. I felt smaller than a bug in an extremely toxic environment. The one thing that anchored me to sanity was my writing. I had been offered a contract for my first book and that small triumph made my life bearable and gave me hope that something better lay ahead. Then I received a rejection letter from my publisher for Desert Jewel, a story I had put all of myself into, one I wanted to share with the world because it spoke of my beliefs, it spoke of the strength that lies inside me, it spoke of many things I normally couldn’t voice. I was crushed. Suddenly my only tether to hope had been severed and I was left adrift.

All the hurts, all the doubts, all the fingers pointed at me in the past came crashing down and before I could do anything about it, I was drowning in darkness. I withdrew from all my friends, all activities, barely talked and was always on the verge of tears. I was never suicidal, but I did think about death a lot. I’d be driving home from work and a thought would pop into my head, “What if a car ran the red light, crashed into mine and killed me?” In my depressive state I thought that it would be a blessing, not only for me but my loved ones. My husband would finally be able to move back to his hometown and marry a wife who made him happier, my sons would not have my pervasive enabling to deal with and could finally be independent and happy, my coworkers would be able to work with someone more efficient than me, and I would have some peace at last. Years of listening to people telling me these things had finally convinced me they were right. I was useless and brought nothing to the world. Even the one thing I thought I was good at, my writing, was now a broken dream.

The scariest part was that no one noticed or realized how depressed I was, even though I barely talked, barely left the house, stopped meeting with friends. Instead, those close to me thought I was just being difficult, that because I was unhappy at work, I was mad at the world and just lashing out. They would often get mad at me, tell me to snap out of it which in turn made me even more depressed. I felt guilty for being such a party pooper, for feeling the way I felt and helpless against it.

black and white black and white depressed depression

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Amid all the murkiness of depression I sent a submission to a new publisher one of my pub sisters had recommended. I was not holding my breath. After all, if my own publisher didn’t want my book why would others?

My husband and I went on a mini-vacation to the mountains that spring and I was miserable. This early riser couldn’t get herself out of bed in the morning and woke up already crying. That morning I dragged myself out of bed and went to hide in the big bathroom, pretending I was getting dressed. I sat on the edge of the hot tub scrolling through my messages and saw an email from the publisher I had sent my manuscript to. I must have sat there for ten minutes before daring to open it. I was sure it was a rejection but as long as I didn’t actually read the words there was always a thread of hope. And I needed hope desperately.

Eventually I did click on it and read the message. I will never forget what I felt reading the words of the woman who is now my publisher. It was not a rejection, far from it. Not only was she offering me a contract, but her words filled me with a joy I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was not just a “yes, we want your book” letter, it was a “loved your manuscript, it’d be an honor to publish it”.

She doesn’t know this—no one does—but that message brought me from the edge of that terrible place I was in. That day I got dressed, I went out, I laughed and talked to my husband. I also decided to get a therapist and go back to yoga. Shortly after that, I got an interview and was able to move to a different school where people treat me with respect to this day.

I was not “cured”. More recently I saw the darkness rising again but I was ready this time. I called my doctor and asked for help before it got too far. Writing is still saving me one day at a time. It’s where I go when I need a break from reality, where I go when I need to control life the way I can’t do in the real world. It’s where I go to rest.

left hand

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I was lucky to have someone say just the right thing at the right time to give me enough hope that I could find my way to the surface, but what if that hadn’t happened? Where would I be?

Be aware of your loved ones’ behavior at all times. Don’t assume they are just being difficult and if you notice a difference, talk to them without judgement, without finger-pointing and listen, listen to them. You may be the one thing that keeps them afloat.

**This article offers several depression hotlines that you can use at any time. Don’t wait, talk to someone today.**

 

Rebel Jewel- New Release

Author: Natalina Reis
Title: Rebel Jewel
Series: The Jewel Chronicles, book 3
Genre: Romantic Fantasy
Release Date: August 31, 2019
Cover Designer: Soxsational Cover Art
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Available now!
Milenda never wanted the responsibilities that came from being a royal heiress. After three years in exile, she’s called back home to ignite a revolution. A revolution that will spill innocent blood and endanger her husband and baby daughter.
After a lifetime in captivity, Jaali only wants a quiet life with his wife and daughter. But the gods have other plans, ones that promise a wave of destruction. To rescue their people from the Elders and free the enslaved, Milenda and Jaali must put aside their fears, summon all their courage and wits, and march head-on into a bloody revolution.
Even if their love for each other carries them, unscathed and victorious, to the end, the revolution may yet destroy the lives of the ones they hold dearest.
Rebel Jewel is the third and final book in The Jewel Chronicles. A unique interracial romance set against a breathtaking fantasy world with complex characters and twists at every turn. Let Rebel Jewel take you to another world.
 

Amazon US:  https://amzn.to/2zbsZZJ 

*  *  *
The Jewel Chronicles Series
book 1
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book 2

Author of We Will Always Have the Closet, Desert Jewel, and Loved You Always, Natalina wrote her first romance in collaboration with her best friend at the age of 13. Since then she has ventured into other genres, but romance is first and foremost in almost everything she writes.

After earning a degree in tourism and foreign languages, she worked as a tourist guide in her native Portugal for a short time before moving to the United States. She lived in three continents and a few islands, and her knack for languages and linguistics led her to a master’s degree in education. She lives in Virginia where she has taught English as a Second Language to elementary school children for more years than she cares to admit.

Natalina doesn’t believe you can have too many books or too much coffee. Art and dance make her happy and she is pretty sure she could survive on lobster and bananas alone. When she is not writing or stressing over lesson plans, she shares her life with her husband and two adult sons.

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Excerpt

The smell of blood suffocated him. There was no running from it. It surrounded him, tightening its nauseating grip on Jaali’s senses, clinging to his nostrils, not letting him go.
Where is Milenda? Jaali scanned the area around him, his glance bouncing off objects and undefined shapes, straining through the red fog closing in on him. Even the mist was tinted with blood, snaking over the wet ground, the exhale of a hidden monster. Milenda was nowhere to be seen. His heart pumped harder, the drumming echoing in his ears, deafening and frantic.
He tried to move, but invisible hands held him steadfast, feet rooted to the dirt-covered ground, unseen shackles around his ankles, breaking through skin and digging into his flesh.
No, not again.
With all the strength he had left, Jaali pulled and pushed against whatever held him in place, the sting of wounded flesh shooting up his legs, a feeling all too familiar to him. He was enslaved again. He thrashed harder, blood now running down to his bare feet, warm and frightening.
A shadow emerged from the fog. Milenda! But, no, it couldn’t be. Its frame was too tall and broad. Jaali opened his mouth to yell for help, but the word never left his lips. Panic rose inside of him, insidious and overwhelming. Why had they returned to Afrika? He had warned his wife it was too dangerous. Too many people wanted them dead.
The shadowy figure took shape as it approached him—brown legs the size of tree trunks and long arms to match.
No, no, no.
The sight of an impressive bald head choked him. It couldn’t be. The duivel was dead. And yet, there he was, striding toward him like an out-of-control transport. Jaali yelled out, his voice freed from whatever was muting it, and pulled harder on the invisible chains holding his ankles. To no avail. The shackles held steady as if glued to the ground.
The slaver proceeded toward him, a cruel smirk curling the corners of his lips. “I’ve got you now, my beautiful boy. You can’t run this time.” Mnyama threw his massive weight into his stride, coming closer and closer to Jaali. “It’s been too long. Ready to give me some of that milky goodness?”
“You’re dead,” Jaali screamed, his voice absorbed by the thick fog. “It’s not possible.”
The large man took a few more steps, a growl-like chuckle leaving his lips. “Well, I’m not. And I missed you, little white boy. My friends missed you too.”
From the thickest part of the fog, where the blood seemed to have coagulated into disgusting blobs, a few more shadows appeared, coalescing into several human bodies, both male and female—all unwelcome echoes of his past. The slaver had brought his cronies.
“No, you’re dead.” Jaali’s voice came out as a sob, a heart-wrenching plea to whatever gods were listening. “I killed you.”
The group of human shadows united in their progress toward him. “It’s about time we have ourselves a good orgy.” Mnyama glanced at his friends. “Any preference about who does the boy first?”
He couldn’t be sure the ear-splitting scream he heard came from himself. Jaali closed his eyes tight and, like a mantra, repeated the words, “It’s not possible. You’re dead, duivel. This is only a nightmare.”
“Well, you should have stayed in Isvärld,” a familiar female voice said. “You wouldn’t be going through this again.”
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Being True To Yourself as a Romance Writer

I just recently read a blog that made me reevaluate my writing or at least the way I look at it. Writing from a place of fear versus from a place of love by Chuck Wendig really hit a nerve with me. Like most writers I thrive on self-doubt and am never sure whether I’m writing the right thing; the thing that readers want, what the readers will devour and beg for more, ultimately the one thing that will sell my books.

I have been tempted to write what seems to sell. As a romance writer I am plenty aware of what romance readers in general are reading, the things that make them tick. But as much as I have wanted to write those books, I couldn’t. They were not me. So cue in another wave of self-loathing; why can’t I be more like others, why am I so weird and different from everybody else? Enter days and days of agonizing over a manuscript; is my publisher going to want it? Will it sell? Will reviewers even be interested in reviewing it?writing

I was recently at a book signing event and decided to attend one of the panels they were offering. As quickly as I went in, I turned around and left, not so much horrified and depressed by what was being discussed but by the fact that if that was what the readers wanted, I would never be able to give it to them. No judgement on the authors of such books but they are not me. I can’t write kinky stuff, just can’t. I love writing about everyday Joes who take great pleasure in making love to their mates in simple ways, men and women who don’t need the aid of tools or pain (or the suggestion of such) to reach an orgasm, couples who won’t allow a third wheel in their sexual life and don’t need to be dominated, women who are not sex goddesses who may in fact even be a little shy about it… in short, people who are so in love with each other that they don’t need anything else to turn them on, keep them on, and reach that apex of pleasure most of us look for.

The reverse of the medal is what it’s usually called clean or sweet romance where sex is either only implied or not mentioned at all. I can’t write these either because I enjoy reading about the characters being intimate and loving, their physical reaction to the love they have for each other. So I like to write spicy scenes. My kind of spice, the kind I keep thinking is not what today’s romance reader want.

Making love

And so the cycle of self-doubt goes on, possibly to never stop. But for now I will stick to what feels right to me at the risk of never selling enough books to keep me fed. I will keep writing from a place of love.

Have you ever been tempted or have in fact written from a place of fear? How did it make you feel?

Boost – New Release

🚨ᑎEᗯ ᖇEᒪEᗩᔕE🚨

Boost

❝When 𝘎𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 60 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 meets 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴❞

Boost

by Author Krissy V

Blurb 
Car boosting is all Zahara knows. She’s built her reputation as The Ghost and enjoys the anonymity. No one knows who she is, what sex she is, or when she is going to strike. That’s the way she likes it.

Nikolai Federov is the boss of one of the largest car boosting gangs in the States. He has a team of bratva working for him, and he doesn’t trust anyone.

One mistake brings their two worlds together, and what happens when they do, is explosive.

Follow Zahara and Nikolai’s adrenaline-fueled story as they try to outwit their worst nightmare.

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Blurb (2)

Krissy V

Krissy V.

She is a mother to two young children, who in turn keep her young. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, but she’s originally from South Devon in the UK. She works full time in a pharmacy and writes in all her spare time, in her lunch hour, when watching TV at night and anywhere the urge takes her.

She is always thinking of situations that be turned into a story and has started a few stories, which in turn will be completed and released to her readers.

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Excerpt
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. I guess it’s like taking a hit of heroin. I don’t need drugs though, I know how to get my highs. My heart pumps faster. My skin is highly sensitive, I can feel the air blowing each of the hairs on my arm.
Checking my phone one last time I put it back inside my bra and zip up my cat suit. Everything I’m wearing is black, as black as the night so that I won’t stand out. I can’t afford to be seen. I’ll end up going to jail and I have too much to lose for that to happen now. My blonde curls are tied back in a ponytail and hidden under my black woolly hat.
I spot my target. Felix. Just sitting there waiting for me. He doesn’t know he’s coming home with me tonight. No-one will have treated him as good as I’m going to. I’m going to ride him so hard he won’t know what’s hit him.
This is a one night thing, so I need to remember that. I tend to forget and get attached. Creeping closer I see there are actually a few good choices tonight, but I only have my eyes on one target.
Moving silently across the garage I keep an eye out so that I don’t get spotted. I’ve been here a few times already. Scoping the joint. Watching the comings and goings of security and of course the owner. Felix is a Ferrari F60 America, worth about $2.5 million. There were only ten F60’s made and my client is desperate to get his hands on one. Even a stolen one.

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Retribution – New Book

 

Way of the Wolf: Retribution

(The Wulvers Series Book 2)

by Rebecca Anne Stewart

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Blurb

My father is dead, and my need for vengeance fuels my every decision and every move. I may not have evidence to prove it, but I know who’s responsible and it’s only a matter of time before I bring them down. 

Roarke is now more determined than ever to prove his worth—not only as the alpha of our pack, but also as my mate. He made it clear our bond will be sealed on the next full moon, and my growing feelings for him make me realize there’s no fighting fate.

But our pack is in danger, secrets start to surface, and loyalties are questioned. Nobody can be trusted, and it seems our enemies are closer than we thought.

Now that I know my place in this world, there’s nothing I won’t do to keep my position in the pack and protect those who are under my care. Roarke and I might have gotten off to a rocky start, but soon everyone will know that together the alpha and I…

We’re a force to be reckoned with. 

Blurb (1)

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Blurb (2)

Rebecca Stewart

REBECCA STEWART

Rebecca is an Author, musician and singer/song writer based in Alyth, Scotland. She focuses her energy on her creative passions and uses her Highland roots to influence all aspects of her life.

Rebecca comes from a family of musicians and spent much of her childhood absorbing the sounds of traditional music while touring Scotland. Rebecca also has a keen interest in her genealogy as she descends from the country’s travelling folk, a culture steeped in history and stories.

A proud Scottish person with a rich family heritage, Rebecca enjoys spending time with her loved ones, travelling her beautiful native homeland and performing with friends.

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Series

Way of the Wolf: Ascension

(The Wulvers Series Book 1)

My father is the alpha, a mantle my unborn brother will take one day. But as daughter of the alpha, my role isn’t yet certain.

My heart is set on becoming the beta, I want to show our kind that a female can be just as strong as any other wolf, without needing a mate to protect her.

But when my father is called to help a neighboring pack, suddenly everything changes. I’m thrown into a world of intrigue, deadly plots, and a fight for power.

As a female who never wanted or needed a mate, I now find myself torn between two males. One, the leader. The other, an untamed wolf.

Either way, taking a mate requires submission, and it’s not in my nature to submit. But no matter how hard I try to fight it, it seems my fate has already been decided.

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White Hot Kiss – Review

White Hot Kiss (The Dark Elements, #1)White Hot Kiss by Jennifer L. Armentrout

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I’ve been meaning to read one of Armentrout’s books for a long time and I finally got to it. I’m so glad I did. What a great story. It has everything I love in fiction: drama, humor, fantasy, and romance. I am truly sorry for Layla and I have no idea how she is going to decide between the two swoon-worthy men in her life (because it’s not hard enough being a half-demon, right?), bad-boy Roth or wholesomely hot Zayne. But I already ordered the second book. With books this good is it any wonder that there are so many of us, mature women, reading and loving YA? Thank you, Ms. Armentrout for a great read.

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