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Monday, September 26, 2016

Donna Grant's "The Hero" Pre-Order Blast



Readers LOVE New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Donna Grant's Paranormal Romances; Dark Warriors, Dark Sword and her most recent new series Dark Kings. We are excited to share with you her upcoming contemporary romance, Sons of Texas!!

"The Hero" is the first in the series which releases on Dec. 6, 2016!
The second book, "The Protector" releases on January 3, 2017! Both books are available now available for pre- order!

Learn more about "The Hero" below! 


The Hero
(Sons of Texas Series, Bk #1)
by Donna Grant

Blurb: 
THE HERO’S HOMECOMING

Owen Loughman is a highly-decorated Navy SEAL who has a thirst for action. But there’s one thing he hasn’t been able to forget – his high school sweetheart, Natalie. After over a decade away, Owen is returned home to the ranch in Texas for a dangerous new mission that puts him face-to-face with Natalie and an outside menace that threatens everything he holds dear. He’ll risk it all to keep Natalie safe – and win her heart. . . .

Natalie Dixon has had a lifetime of heartache since Owen was deployed. Fourteen years and one bad marriage later, she finds herself mixed up with the Loughman’s again. With her life on the line against an enemy she can’t fight alone, it’s Owen’s strong shoulders, smoldering eyes, and sensuous smile that she turns to. When danger closes in, she holds close to the only man she’s ever loved… 


Pre-Order Now!

                        


Release Date: 
December 6, 2016


 Excerpts


The days of Natalie going back to her house to have a glass of wine and watch episodes of Criminal Minds or Doctor Who were long gone. Ever since the day she saw Ragnarok in that report and called the number Orrin had given her, her life had changed.

That’s when she and Callie had begun talking several times a day.

The sound of another chopper flying low overhead caused her to glance up. It looked like another military helicopter, which immediately made her think of Owen. Again.

She sighed. After all the wasted years, she thought he’d be gone from her thoughts. It seemed she was forever wrong when it came to him.

“There’s another one. I’m betting it’s them,” Callie said.

“Think there’s any way I can look around without them knowing?”

“You mean without Owen knowing? Doubt it.”

She knew Callie was right, but that didn’t mean Natalie had to like it.

“How’s work?” Callie asked.

Because she worked for the Russian Embassy, and she wasn’t sure if they listened to her conversations, she and Callie never spoke of her work. The fact that Callie brought it up meant there was a reason.

“Busy. I had a hard time getting away.”

“Time isn’t on our side.”

Of that, she was clearly aware. “How long do you think we have?”

“I don’t know. Everything hinges on finding it.”

It being Ragnarok—a bioweapon.

How different her life would be if Orrin hadn’t contacted her in July. She wouldn’t be embroiled in kidnapping, espionage, and murder.

And yet . . . it felt as if this were the exact place she needed to be.

Then again, that could be her heart trying to convince her this all led back to Owen. As far as she was concerned, men were pigs. She’d had enough of the lies, the cheating, and the bullshit that always went with dating.

She was happy living the single life, not having to clean up after anyone, share her closet, compromise on where to eat or if she got to watch her favorite shows. There was no one taking her covers, snoring, or—

“Natalie?”

“Sorry,” she told Callie. “I was thinking.”

“About Owen?”

“About all of it. The shit is about to hit the fan as soon as the boys learn what’s going on.”

Callie snorted loudly. “Then let it. Where have they been these last ten years? Have they even bothered to send a fucking text? No. They have no idea how badly that hurt Orrin.”

“I doubt they think about it.” She should know. In the year she’d been with Owen, there were two things never discussed—his mother’s murder, and his feelings about his dad.

“Which just pisses me off,” Callie said tightly. “If I had a dad like Orrin, I’d never be far.”

“I know.” Callie was another who didn’t discuss her family. And with a family as infamous around Hillsboro as the Reeds, it was no wonder.

The Reeds were drunks and criminals of the worst sort. It had been Orrin who helped Callie escape all of that. And why she thought of Orrin as a father.

“We have to find him,” Callie said.

Natalie slowed the car and put on her blinker as she prepared to pull onto the Loughman Ranch. “We will, Callie. We will.”

“Even if we have to do it on our own. If the jackasses Orrin calls sons won’t help, then I’ll make sure they’re not around to interfere.”

That made Natalie smile. If anyone could do that, it was Callie. What she lacked in height, Callie made up for in intelligence and talking rings around people. Few could keep up with her.

“I just turned into the ranch.” She felt a flutter in her stomach.


Excitement or dread? She wasn’t sure she knew.



Owen scrubbed a hand down his face. This was a hit. Pure and simple. But against his aunt and uncle, who were some of the best human beings he’d ever known? This wasn’t about Charlotte and Virgil. This was about something else. He immediately thought of his father. But it could be because of one of them, as well. He and his brothers had enemies of their own.

That soured his stomach. Hadn’t he sworn he wouldn’t allow such things to touch his family again?

He walked back into the house and to the living area, followed by Cullen and Wyatt. He looked at the recliner where their uncle had been killed to the fireplace where one of the shotguns hung.

“It’s untouched,” Cullen stated.

Owen glanced around the room. “Virgil never got to it.”

“He didn’t stand a chance against such firepower,” Wyatt stated.

Cullen strode to the kitchen and stood quietly for several minutes. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with raw fury. “I’ll not stop until I find out who did this.”

“We feel the same,” Owen said, fully understanding how Cullen felt.

Cullen released a breath and faced his brothers. “I was in the middle of a mission when my team was pulled. No way was I picked up and immediately brought here just because they were murdered.”

“You weren’t the only one, kid,” Wyatt said. “I was on a mission, too.”

Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “Make that all three of us. I can’t think of any of my enemies who would know to track me here.”

“Me either,” Cullen replied.

Wyatt gave a single shake of his head.

Owen’s anger burned brightly. “This involves Dad. It has to.”

A muscle ticked in Wyatt’s jaw. Owen ignored the telltale sign that Wyatt was furious and frowned when he heard the sound of an automobile approaching. The three instantly fanned out. Cullen took the back door while Owen positioned himself at the front. Wyatt squatted behind the sofa in the formal living room.

The motor shut off, and a moment later, a vehicle door closed. Owen glanced out the window and caught sight of the front of a dark gray BMW 6 Series.

Seconds ticked by without the sound of anyone approaching. Wyatt turned his head toward the back of the house when the front door was thrown open, and someone stepped inside. Owen stilled a second before he grabbed the slim form.

He had the intruder flipped onto their back immediately. In the next moment, Owen found himself on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He jumped to his feet and tried to look beneath the baseball cap of the person, but he couldn’t make out anything.

Owen didn’t waste any time getting the advantage and slamming the person against the wall. There was a gasp that sounded distinctly feminine as the air in the intruder’s lungs was forced out.

That caught his attention. With a shove, he knocked the hat off. A wealth of light brown hair tumbled free.

All the breath left him as he stared into green eyes he feared he’d never see again.

“Natalie?”

“Hi, boys,” she said off-handedly.

He frowned, suddenly furious to find her there. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“She’s looking for me,” came a voice behind them.

“Callie?” Wyatt asked in a strangled voice full of surprise and annoyance as he stood.

Callie Reed glared at each of them as she walked around Owen and nodded to Natalie. He released Natalie, and she moved to stand beside Callie. He exchanged a look with his brothers, though Wyatt couldn’t stop staring at Callie.

“Someone please tell us what’s going on?” Owen demanded.

Callie shrugged. “I work here.”


Green eyes met his. “I came to help.”

Sons of Texas Series


Sons of Texas Series








The Protector (The Sons of Texas #2)
Release Date: Jan. 3, 2017

Pre-Order at

                        

Visit Donna's website to learn more about the series and read sneak peeks! 





About The Author




New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Donna Grant has been praised for her "totally addictive" and "unique and sensual" stories. Her latest acclaimed series, Dark Kings, features a thrilling combination of dragons, Fae, and immortal Highlanders who are dark, dangerous, and irresistible. She lives with her two children and an assortment of animals in Texas.

You can find Donna at 

               

    





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Friday, September 16, 2016

Release Day Blitz: The Demon King by Heather Killough-Walden


The much anticipated THE DEMON KING by Heather Killough-Walden is now available! If you love PNR, readers have said that there are some series' that are completely addictive, and this is one of them! Find out why below! 


The Demon King
(The Kings Series, #9)
by Heather Killough-Walden


Blurb:
Dahlia Kellen has been through hell. Raised in a fae society that slowly drove her mad, she turned traitor against her people and was cast out. But in an act of heroism that clearly exposed her for the good she was, she rose up against the true evil threatening her people, and in her efforts to stop that evil, she was terribly transformed. Now dark, different, and feeling truly exiled in her soul, Dahlia has a chance encounter with a man in Boston. A man whose gaze is as dark and haunted as her own… and whose craven desire for her and dangerous, powerful bloodline will show Dahlia that for her, hell is just the beginning.

“I’ve come with a message about your father,” said the stranger.

“You’re speaking of Marius.” Marius was dead. Laz would know; he’d killed him.

But the messenger smiled. “No, no. Not quite,” he said, white teeth gleaming in an unholy grin. “Think bigger. Think badder.”

Steven Lazarus is a seasoned detective with the Boston police force who has always served and protected, and done so by the book. But the Akyri King’s insides are heating up, a painful yearning is tearing away at him, and his tall, strong body has become capable of a dark, violent magic he can barely control. His dangerous past has caught up with him, and he can scarcely stand to look at his own reflection. He doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him, and that terrifies him. 

Because he knows the powerful, hungry man in the mirror wants Dahlia Kellen just as badly as he does. And if he has to, he’ll raise hell to claim her.

The Demon King is the 9th book in the best selling The Big Bad Wolf spinoff series, The Kings, by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Heather Killough-Walden. 



Available for purchase at

         


Excerpts


She wasn’t human. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there was just a hint of something sharp revealing itself when she spoke. Vampire? Akyri? She felt like both and neither. Not that it mattered. All that mattered to Lazarus at that point in time was getting her out of that warehouse and to some safer, less conspicuous place where they could be alone.

But now he was staring down at the animal standing between them. It was a dog of all things, and one that was obviously ready to rip his leg off. Dogs weren’t something he would have pegged as a companion for a creature like the stranger before him. Dragons maybe. Or some sort of unicorn-bunny-kitten mix. Something sparkly, at the very least, with really big eyes. Not mutt dogs. And he was pretty sure this one had fleas.

Confusion joined the vexation of his growing impatience. He forced himself to remain calm. “A friend of yours?” he asked, looking back up. Locking eyes on her was like an immediate reward. But the dog’s growl intensified.

The woman’s brow furrowed. She blinked as if she were coming out of something, and his fight or flight instincts kicked in. He prepared to do the former because he was afraid she would do the latter.

“Yes,” she suddenly said, and her expression changed. Fierceness slipped into her eyes, and her jaw set. She looked from the dog back up to him, and as she did so, she placed her hand lovingly on the dog’s head. The animal let out a soft whine, licked its lips once, then slid back into warning mode, baring its teeth at Lazarus. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving now,” she asserted.

Laz’s attention spiked. “Oh, I won’t argue with that,” he said.

She would be leaving, just not without him.




She quickly pushed herself up. At once, the pain was back. She winced and again inhaled sharply, hissing hard through clenched teeth. Clearly, the spell meant to punish resistance. With each passing second, Dahlia was more convinced that attacking the hooded figures had been the right choice. She didn’t let up now, despite the pain. Countless years of being forced into a kind of servitude to her Tuathian bloodline and the sexual demands it made on the physical form had taught her well that she was simply not born to be obligated or beholden to anyone. Ever. There was little more precious to Dahlia Kellen than her freedom. She had learned that lesson well.
“Watch it, back off!” It was the same man who’d spoken earlier, warning those who had drawn near to her.
Dahlia’s vision once more shifted, contrasts sharpened, and her hands flooded with power. She cried out as the spell that had been cast on her threatened to crack her bones in half and the cold continued to spread. She glanced down at her body, viewing it through battle-tones and expecting it to see blue and covered with rime. But it looked no different than usual.
No damage, then, she thought. Only pain.
The spell was designed to hurt, not harm. For some reason, that made her even more furious. The fire building in her palms leapt with height and took on a reddish-purple cast. It had never done that before. She could feel it draining an inordinate amount of strength from her form, but at the same time, the darkening of her magic’s flames eased the strain up on her eyes a bit, allowing her to better see her targets. It also felt better. At first it was hard to put her finger on it, but Dahlia realized, as the magic continued to build, that it was lessening the pain of the spell that had been cast on her. It was negating it, warming her from the inside out like a hot drink of coffee in a snow storm.
She smiled, allowing her fangs to show. She didn’t even care that she was being drained by this new dark force. It was worth it.
Across the warehouse from her, a single hooded figure slowly pushed back his hood. Piercing blue eyes glowed with a different menacing fire, locking onto her with their own kind of darkness. No, Dahlia thought. Not darkness. Wrongness.
She would know it anywhere.

- The Demon King, by Heather Killough-Walden

Coming September 16, 2016





The Kings Series





Also Available in Audio










About The Author




Heather Killough-Walden is a California native currently living in Texas with her husband, child, and King Charles Cavalier. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Big Bad Wolf series, The Kings series, the Lost Angels series, the October Trilogy, the Neverland series, and The Chosen Soul series. Heather’s educational background includes religious studies, archeology, and law. She has traveled all over the world but hopes to one day live in a town with a world-class hockey team. (Let’s Go Pens!)

You can find Heather at

Website
Facebook
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Thursday, September 1, 2016

Terry Maggert's "Heartborn" Blog Tour


Tour Stops

September 1, 2016 
V's Reads

September 2, 2016 
Bookstruck Books and Other Loves

September 3, 2016 
Lilac Reviews

September 4, 2016 
My Fiction Nook

September 5, 2016 
My Nook, Books & More
books are love

September 6, 2016 
Share My Destiny

September 7, 2016 
Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews


Heartborn
By Terry Maggert

Blurb:
Her guardian angel was pushed.

Keiron was never meant to be anything other than a hero. Born high above in a place of war and deception, he is Heartborn, a being of purity and goodness in a place where there violence and deceit are just around every corner.

His disappearance will spark a war he cannot see, for Keiron has pierced the light of days to save a girl he has never met, for reasons he cannot understand. Livvy Foster is seventeen, brave, and broken. With half a heart, she bears the scars of a lifetime of pain and little hope of survival.

Until Keiron arrives.

In the middle of a brewing war and Livvy’s failing heart, Keiron will risk everything for Livvy, because a Heartborn’s life can only end in one way: Sacrifice.

Fall with Livvy and Keiron as they seek the truth about her heart, and his power, and what it means to love with someone who will give their very life to save you.



Available for purchase at




Excerpt

Chapter One: The Leap
            The relentless wind cooled his skin as he mustered the courage to jump. It was a long way to fall, and he’d been poised on the edge for nearly an hour. It wasn’t fear that kept him rooted to the spot, but the effort of reaching through time to see what consequences his action might bring. To think of leaving was akin to dropping a boulder in the pool of his own history; there was no way to foresee what the ripples might cause. Or the waves, since this would make waves, not ripples. It was all an undiscovered thing.
             No one had done what he meant to do; at least not in the memory of his House.
            Under the points of his boots, featureless mist curled away to reveal an enticing glimpse of color and life so unlike his own home. Gray, he thought. I am so very tired of all the gray in these clouds. The longer he looked at the myriad of colors below, the more acute his hunger to see what mysteries rolled beneath him, unknown and vibrant. The land looked like a fairy tale made real, its hills and rivers gleaming like a promise in the early morning light. The sheer distance and appeal of it all clutched at his chest like a physical thing, making him cover his heart. His body fizzed with excitement and fear, and he liked it.
            “You won’t go, you know.” His brother’s voice was bored to the point of insolence, a tone he’d perfected from years of practice. Like others who kept their face an impassable mask, he’d lost much of the joy in his life, if ever he knew it. Brother Garrick appeared from the sullen gray mist that hid the secret columns and towers of their home. Walking toward Keiron, a smile quirked at the cruel lips, so unlike his own. “We’ve already been to the edge of the scrying pool. You won’t go. It is known to us.” A look flickered across the impassive face, something ugly and hot. His control was slipping. That was new, as was his belief that he was equal to their parents. Or older siblings, at that.
            “Yes. I will.” Keiron’s voice sounded small in the silence. Even the wind died out of respect for what he was about to say, and if his resolve held, what he would then do.
            A sad shake of the perfect head said that was a lie. Garrick was beautiful to the point of distraction. His pupils were nearly colorless in a face framed with fine blonde hair that called sunlight to mind, so different from his brother. Garrick was light, while Keiron was dark, with skin golden from the sun and eyes the black of a starless night. A long, aquiline nose gave him a regal quality that Garrick, for all his perfection, could not possess. His hair was curled and ebony to the point of being liquid, a black mass that he pushed back with irritation at Garrick’s verbal assault. Keiron was lean and tall, and in the stages of bloom where men first leave boyhood behind when they are no longer concerned with a young man’s things.
            Garrick spoke again, substituting arrogance for wisdom. “No. There is no escaping that which has passed. Even if you were to—”
            A swift cut of Keiron’s hand broke the thought. His brother looked shocked, then amused, and then angry.
He didn’t like being spoken to that way. “I can, and I will. I know how to shift the light of days, and I know when to do it, too.”
            “Really? A secret of that size, and you, a minor son, have figured it out? Do tell, fledgling.” He loved using Keiron’s youth as an insult, even though he was barely a year older.
            “If you paid attention to anything other than yourself, you’d know that there is logic behind the Moondivers. There have been others, you know.” A hint of smugness colored Keiron’s defense, but his brother had it coming.
            The reaction was volcanic.
            Real anger spat forth from Garrick now, contorting his features into something crude and ugly. It was, Keiron thought, the first honest thing he’d seen of his brother in all these years. It was the face of fear and rage, and he knew why. This entire outburst was about power, or the lack of it. To control time was the province of elders, not some child who thought that he could move the forces of worlds to right a wrong. It was arrogance of a kind unlike anything he’d ever embraced, and his brother’s hate for him grew by the second because he knew that for all his perfection, the younger of them was more pure. The elder boy was ambition personified, but without courage and purity he would never control the clocks. For that matter, Garrick would not even control himself, a fact that dawned on him as he sputtered with rage.
            Keiron squared his feet and repeated his intentions like a prayer. “The days will bend for me. I can feel it, and your anger will not change the truth.” His words rang with a kind of surety that made his legs shake, if only briefly.
            It was something Garrick would say, and for that he was frightened and proud, since unlike his brother, Kieron meant every word of it and aimed to see it through.
            In two long strides, his brother came close enough that he could smell the wind herbs on his breath. They were sour with hate, just like the expression contorting his face. “She’s already dead.”
            Keiron went rigid, but fought mightily to gain control of the anger that bloomed in his chest. Heat spread like sunlight, and he took three long breaths to contain his next words. “She is now, but she won’t be when I get there. I told you. I can do it.”
            “You think falling through time and distance can save her? Landing in that mud-spattered wallow that they crawl about in like feral swine? You don’t even know why they were driven from the land, let alone if death awaits you. What about you? Who can save you?” His brother barked with laughter, a short noise of jealousy and fear. “What if she doesn’t want to be saved? You’re a child. A favored pet who is loved because of his youth. You’re nothing but an amusement to this family.”
            The wind blew harder as spots filled Keiron’s vision. He could not lose control, not now. He worked his jaw to let the words out. The sounds followed each other, chastened by the force of his will. “I have watched. I have learned. And I tell you, I am going, and she is worth saving.”
            Garrick shrugged as the boredom returned to his face, now a mask of beautiful disinterest. “You actually care about them, don’t you? Those things down there? Those glorified cattle? Do you think they’re even capable of understanding us? We are not the benign, soft creatures that have been reshaped by their pitiful legends. We were born for war, not love. We are made to hurt, not heal.” He shook his head with a mocking grin. “You’ve always been weak, but this is beyond anything the family expected. It’s practically—”
            “It’s decent, that’s the word you’re looking for.” Keiron’s voice was like iron, despite a small quiver at the end of his words. His jaw set again, and for an instant Garrick saw their grandfather’s stern profile there, lurking like a boulder under the surface of a still pool.
            “You’re not even worth saving, let alone one of them.” Garrick’s eyes flicked down to the vista that unspooled under their feet, or perhaps it was above. It was difficult to tell with the curving horizon and shifting light. Part of what he saw was green, unlike their home. There were blue rivers, brown and green fields, and stony places worn by wind and weather. It was alien, but enticing. He let a woven cord of animal hide fall into his hand. On either end, a heavy molar prized from the jaw of a Windbeast acted as a weight. The teeth were well worn, and tied in with strands of fine leather. It had been a mature beast, killed to make things that the people of the wind needed. Like teeth. And rope.
            “Then I belong with them, don’t I?” Keiron’s question was rhetorical.
            Again, Garrick shrugged, this time with one shoulder. His lips peeled back to reveal perfect teeth, but there was no kindness in the gesture. “Fine, but you’ll need to know something first.” The cord spun outward from Garrick’s hand in a blur, spinning around Keiron’s wings with brutal efficiency. The weight of the heavy teeth spun the strand tight to bind him, flightless, as Garrick drew his sword and cut downward in a wicked blow that sent Keiron’s wings spinning away into the clouds below.
            Paralyzed by pain and betrayal, Keiron stood swaying as Garrick stepped calmly forward, placing both hands on his brother and pushing him into a chaotic tumble from the ledge of House Windhook. Spatters of blood swept up and away in the swirling winds, the last sign of a boy who had been bound, and cut, and sent into the sky in less time than he had to register the sensation of being flightless and wounded.
            Keiron’s stomach raged upward as glare and shadow coursed around him in a never-ending circle of dizzying light, and he began the long, cold fall through layers of sky and time that tore the scream from his throat even as it began.

            From above, he heard Garrick’s last words, mocking and fat with poisonous joy. “Let us see if you can truly fly.”




About The Author


Born in 1968, I discovered fishing shortly after walking, a boon, considering I lived in South Florida. After a brief move to Kentucky, my family trekked back to the Sunshine State. I had the good fortune to attend high school in idyllic upstate New York, where I learned about a mythical substance known as "Seasons". After two or three failed attempts at college, I bought a bar. That was fun because I love beer, but, then, I eventually met someone smarter than me (a common event), and, in this case, she married me and convinced me to go back to school--which I did, with enthusiasm. I earned a Master's Degree in History and rediscovered my love for writing. My novels explore dark fantasy, immortality, and the nature of love as we know it. I live near Nashville, Tennessee, with the aforementioned wife, son, and herd, and, when I'm not writing, I teach history, grow wildly enthusiastic tomato plants, and restore my 1967 Mustang.




You can find Terry at 

            


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