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Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Release Day Blitz: The Case of the Voracious Vintner by Tara Lain



The next installment to the 
The Middlemark Mysteries Series 
is now available!




The Case of the Voracious Vintner
(A Middlemark Mystery Series, Bk 2) 
By Tara Lain 

Blurb:
Where Bo Marchand comes from, gay men are just confirmed bachelors who never found the right girl. But now Bo’s a successful winemaker on the central coast of California, supporting his whole damned Georgia family, and all he really wants is the beautiful, slightly mysterious Jeremy Aames.

Jeremy’s vineyard is under threat from Ernest Ottersen, the voracious winemaker who seems to know all Jeremy’s blending secrets and manages to grab all his customers. Bo tries to help Jeremy and even provides a phony alibi for Jeremy when Ottersen turns up dead in Jeremy’s tasting room. But it’s clear Jeremy isn’t who he claims, and Bo must decide if it’s worth tossing over his established life for a man who doesn’t seem to trust anyone. When Jeremy gets kidnapped, some the conservative winemakers turn out to be kinky sex fiends, and the list of murderers keeps dwindling down to Jeremy. Bo has to choose between hopping on his white horse or climbing back in his peach-pie-lined closet.


Available for purchase at

Kindle | Amazon Paperback | Nook | Kobo | iTunes | Dreamspinner Press | BAM


Excerpts


Heart beating hard, Bo climbed out of the little silver-blue car and walked into the cottage-style building he knew to be a far more upscale establishment than its hippy-dippy furnishings made it appear. Jeremy was sitting on an old church pew against the entry wall when Bo walked in. Other would-be diners cast subtle glances at him—he was just that handsome—but his mane was pulled back into a strict tail at his neck, or they would have been staring openly. The smile he flashed as he stood went straight to Bo’s balls—and his cheeks with a flush of heat. Bo managed to get a word past his frozen lips. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
Their eyes met and couldn’t seem to let go. Fine with him, but they weren’t even close to alone. Bo swallowed hard and glanced around at the other customers, then back at Jeremy. “So, are they ready for us?”
“Probably. They said they were getting the table ready when I came in.”
Bo walked over to the hostess and used the dimples. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Bo Marchand. You’re preparing a table for me and my, uh, associate, Mr. Aames. Would y’all happen to be ready for us?” Flashing all the expensive dental work seemed to do the trick.
“Oh yes, sir, Mr. Marchand. We have a lovely table for you, private as you requested.” She fluttered her lashes.
He leaned in. “A very important business meeting. You understand.”
“Oh yes, sir.” She looked behind her. “Violet, please take Mr. Marchand to his table.” She grinned and said softly, “Or anywhere else he wants to go.”
Bo chuckled and waved a hand to Jeremy to follow as Violet led them to a booth toward the back of the restaurant. They slid in on either side of the table.
Violet smiled. “Do you know what you’d like to drink?”
Jeremy asked, “May we see the wine list, please?”
“Of course.” She stepped to a nearby serving table and grabbed a menu. “Here you go.” She glanced down. “Can I ask how tall you are?”
Bo grinned. “Just a tiny tad over six feet four, ma’am.”
She giggled. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Jeremy chuckled. “You do package the charm there, darlin’.”
Bo’s cheeks heated.
Jeremy leaned across the table and angled the wine list so Bo could see. He said, “They have a few of my blends and most of your vintages.”
Violet reappeared.
Bo said, “I’ll have a glass of the Marchand zin.”
“Excellent choice, sir.” A grin tugged at her lips. She probably remembered his name. She glanced at Jeremy. “You, sir?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“No Hill Top?” Bo asked.
“Nah, I like the good stuff.”
Violet walked away as Bo laughed. But then they were alone. Choose something to talk about. “Uh, so have you thought any more about how we can work together?”
A waiter walked up with two balloon glasses of red and placed them on the table. “Enjoy.”
Jeremy nodded. “Oh, we will.” As the waiter returned to the kitchen, Jeremy held up his glass. “To us.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Uh, to our partnership.” His nostrils flared. “I mean, to defeating Ottersen.”
Bo’s pulse fluttered in his throat. “To all of those.”
They drank and Jeremy closed his eyes, revealing long, thick lashes several tones darker than his dirty-blond hair. “Oh man, you do give good zin, my friend.”
“I’m so glad you like it.”
“I do. So much.”
The words were simple, but they made Bo shiver, and he sloshed a mouthful of wine between his lips, spattering some on the white tablecloth.


“Shall we read the rest?”
Jeremy nodded, all that fair hair rippling, and Bo plunged into his next line just for the distraction. “Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he, that wand’ring knight so fair.” His heart tripped. Knight so fair. He groped for his wineglass, hit it awkwardly, and tipped it right over onto Jeremy’s arm. “Damn! I’m so sorry.”
Bo grabbed the glass and hurried around the bar for a rag of some kind. He found a roll of paper towels and dabbed madly at Jeremy’s soaked shirt, the wine creeping up the cotton fabric toward his shoulder. “That was so careless of me.”
“No problem, really. I always keep a shirt close at hand for just such accidents because they seem to happen several times a day. The red’s the worst.” He walked behind the counter near where Bo stood, opened a narrow closet, and pulled a white shirt off a hanger. Then, as Bo tried to keep his tongue in his mouth, Jeremy proceeded to strip off his wet garment and drop it in a hamper, also in the closet. He pulled another shirt up from it and laughed at the huge red stain on the front. “See what I mean?”
Dear blessed God. His comparing Jeremy to Brad Pitt washed back into Bo’s brain, this time the lean, hard body of Fight Club. How did a normal person get abs like that, below shoulders and arms like that? Whoa.
With no apparent hurry, Jeremy sidled to the bar sink, took some towels and wet them, and began to wipe the wine off his glistening golden skin. Bo would gladly have volunteered his tongue for the job. Jeremy held out a fresh wet towel to Bo. “Would you mind? The wine seems to have seeped up onto my back a bit.”
Catatonic. For a second he thought he’d embarrass himself by being unable to move, but he managed to pull it together and take the towel from Jeremy. Jeremy turned and presented a masterpiece of shoulders and triceps for Bo’s careful inspection. Bo’s dick pronounced Jeremy flawless. “You’re very fit.”
Jeremy glanced over his shoulder abruptly, and for an odd second, he looked—what? Worried? Guilty? Why?
“Uh, yes, I used to be into working out.” He turned his head, but his shoulders had tensed a little.
Taking a breath, Bo wiped the wet towel over Jeremy’s smooth skin on his shoulder and down the side of his back. His hand faltered more than once at the heat penetrating the wet paper and the overwhelming desire to drop the towel and just touch that vanilla crème texture. Thank God Jeremy was turned backward because Bo’s erection threatened to take over the tasting room like Godzilla in Tokyo.
Okay, he couldn’t resist, and probably Jeremy couldn’t tell. Bo let his fingers slip off the side of the paper and slide across Jeremy’s back. Not perfectly smooth as it looked. There were little variations in texture here and there, tiny moles or freckles, like a living, breathing human. Oh dear God, that was more disturbing than perfection. The need to lean in and rest his cheek against all that strength flamed through him.
Suddenly Jeremy made a funny, snuffly sound, as if he was stifling a moan and a sigh at the same time.
Bo froze. Fuckity frogs and fishes! Swiftly and efficiently, he wiped the last dregs of wine from Jeremy’s flesh, dropped the towel on the bar, and walked out toward the opposite wall, taking deep breaths so there was no chance of Jeremy spying his boner.




A Middlemark Mystery






The Case of the Sexy Shakespearean
Bk 1 



Available for purchase at




About the Author


Tara Lain believes in happy ever afters – and magic. Same thing. In fact, she says, she doesn’t believe, she knows. Tara shares this passion in her best-selling stories that star her unique, charismatic heroes — the beautiful boys of romance —  and adventurous heroines. Quarterbacks and cops, werewolves and witches, blue collar or billionaires, Tara’s characters, readers say, love deeply, resolve seemingly insurmountable differences, and ultimately live their lives authentically. After many years living in southern California, Tara, her soulmate honey and her soulmate dog decided they wanted less cars and more trees, prompting a move to Ashland, Oregon where Tara’s creating new stories and loving living in a small town with big culture. Likely a Gryffindor but possessed of Parseltongue, Tara loves animals of all kinds, diversity, open minds, coconut crunch ice cream from Zoeys, and her readers. She also loves to hear from you.   




You can find Tara at Lain

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Release Day Blitz: Nevermore by Dannika Dark



Its here! Its here!! 



Nevermore
(Crossbreed Series, Bk 6)
by Dannika Dark


Blurb:

Raven returns to her childhood home to rebuild her severed relationship with her father. After a long year of capturing violent criminals and thwarting assassination plots, she could use a vacation.

But trouble is brewing on the home front. When Raven discovers her father is in financial peril, she’s determined to set things right even if it means sacrificing her heart in the process. Meanwhile, her relationship with Christian is on shaky ground when a skeleton falls out of his closet. Will they be able to leave the past behind, or is the trust between them dead and buried?

When the bonds of love are put to the test, only the courageous will prevail.



Available for Pre-order at 







Keystone
(Crossbreed Series Book 1)


Available purchase at 






Ravenheart
(Crossbreed Series, Bk #2)


Available purchase at 

Kindle | Amazon (Paperback) | Audible | iTunes | Nook | B&N | Kobo | Tantor




Deathtrap
(Crossbreed Series, Bk #3)


Available for purchase at

Kindle | Amazon (Paperback) | Audible | iTunes | Nook | B&N | Kobo | Tantor





Gaslight
(Crossbreed Series, Bk #4)



Available for purchase at 





Blackout
(Crossbreed Series, Bk #5)


Available to purchase at



About the Author


Dannika Dark is the USA Today Bestselling Author of Urban Fantasy Romance and Paranormal Romance books. Her books have sold more than 2 million copies worldwide, and she is a 2016 Audie Awards finalist. In addition to writing about supernatural worlds, Dannika is passionate about graphic design and creates all her own covers and series art. When not writing in her cave, she enjoys indie music, reading, Netflix, heaps of chocolate, and unleashing her dark side. 





You can find Dannika at 

To receive exclusive content and be the first to know about upcoming releases, please sign up to her newsletter. 





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Release Day Blitz: Corruption by Jennifer Blackstream


The highly anticipated next installment is now available! 




Corruption
(Blood Trails #4)
by Jennifer Blackstream

Blurb:

An exorcism went horribly, horribly wrong.

Did the ritual fail?

Or was it sabotaged...

Shade is a witch, not an exorcist. But when two priests are killed during an exorcism, the surviving witness begs Shade to find out who-or what-is responsible.

And what good is a private investigator who's afraid of the tough cases?

Danger mounts as Shade plunges into a world of hedonism to wade through the muddy waters of good vs evil. If she's going to survive against the army of enemies piling up, she's going to need help. But who can she trust when the demon who survived the exorcism creates chaos among allies and suspects alike?

After all, with the proper temptation, anyone can be corrupted...





Available for purchase at 
Kindle | Amazon Paperback | Nook | iTunes | Kobo 


Excerpts



“Have we determined that the black cat that was following you around last month is a potential… What did you call it? An animal companion?”

“That’s the consensus. Flint thinks I might have caught its attention the same way I caught—”
I stopped.

As if our conversation had summoned it, the hulking black cat in question sat on the other side of the room. The beast was bigger than any mundane cat, even the great cats. On all fours, its head came to my shoulder, and it easily weighed over seven hundred pounds. Though it resembled an enormous panther, the ears were wrong for the breed, too pointed. And there was a shadowy quality to its form, as if it weren’t really there. As though it were a lingering nightmare come to life.

“Maybe I should install a cat door,” Andy murmured. His hand lingered near his gun.

“Don’t shoot it,” I warned.

“I’m not going to shoot it.” He paused, considered that. “Would it do me any good to shoot it?”
“Bullets have iron, and I’m pretty sure it’s fey. If you could hit it, you could hurt it.” A shiver ran down my spine. “But somehow…I don’t think you would.”

Instinct told me the beast would be fast, impossibly fast. Andy was an incredible shot, but he was human, with human limitations. The black cat crept forward, silent as a dark fog. My heart skipped a beat as it approached the sleeping kitten, sniffing the air above Majesty. The kitten cracked open one eye.

“Oh please, don’t scare him,” I begged, trying not to sound as panicked as I felt. “Please, I can’t face another rhinoceros.”

The cat blinked as if it had understood me, then studied the kitten with renewed interest, tilting its massive head to one side.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, a rhinoceros. It’s one of the fun, terrifying things that can happen if you startle that…kitten.”

“You weren’t going to say kitten,” Peasblossom accused. “You were going to say a bad word, weren’t you? Which one?”

My phone rang, and I jumped a foot in the air. Majesty shot to his feet, claws piercing the couch. The black cat’s ears rose.

“Please don’t summon another rhinoceros.” I fumbled for my phone. “Hello?”

“Shade! Shade Renard?”

It was a woman’s voice, thick with an Italian accent. She sounded hoarse, and her last word ended in a way that suggested she was clenching her teeth. Nearby her a door opened, then slammed shut.

I straightened my spine, magic kitten forgotten. “Yes, this is Shade. Who is this? Are you all right?”

“They’re dead, both dead. Murdered. You have to help…” She groaned.

I gripped the phone tighter, staring at Andy. He didn’t take his attention off the cats, or his hand from his gun.

“Who was murdered? What happened? Where are you?”

Andy met my gaze. Tension seized his shoulders, and he put the gun away.

“I’m at St. Michael’s on Lexington Avenue. I need your help, you must come now. Please hurry, I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”

“Hold what?”

“The demon.”

The line went dead. 



“They were my only hope,” Lorelei said, her voice empty. “The only ones who believed they could disentangle me from this wretched…” She pursed her lips. “I will kill whoever did this.”

“That’s why I’m here,” I told her. “But I need more information.”

“No.” Lorelei stood. “I want to see the crime scene, and I want to destroy the killer. I’m not leaving until I do.” She took a sudden step closer, crowding my personal space. “Do you think you can stop me?” Another step. “You’re no holy warrior.”

“No,” I agreed. “I’m no holy warrior. I can’t focus my faith into a weapon, I can’t exorcise you from that body.”

Lorelei barked out a laugh at that. “Even a paladin could not exorcise me. I am this body now.” There was something in her voice when she said the last sentence, a bitterness that said she regretted her choice, however she might brag about it.

“You’re not alone, though. And I’d like to talk to the other occupant.”

The demon’s eyes glittered with specks of cherry red. “Show me the crime scene.”
I sighed. I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “Do you know many children?”
Lorelei blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Children. Do you know many children? Have you seen them on the playground?”

“Having children is the one thing my dear host was wretchedly successful at preventing,” Lorelei muttered. “And I do not find hanging around playgrounds a worthy way to spend my time.”

“Good.”

I tucked my foot behind Lorelei’s and shoved her in the chest—hard. Surprise widened her eyes a second before she pitched backward. Andy shouted, and Father Salvatore ceased his steady prayer. Time slowed, and I watched Lorelei’s skull slam into the stone bench with a stomach-turning crunch. Her body went limp as she slumped to the grass, leaving behind a shining red patch of blood on the seat, with more crimson flowing to stain the grass around her.

Her eyes closed and she lay still.



The Blood Trails Series


Available to purchase here!






About The Author

USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Blackstream is...odd. Putting aside the fact that she writes her own author bio in third person, she also sleeps with a stuffed My Little Pony that her grandmother bought her as a joke for her 23rd birthday, and she enjoys listening to Fraggle Rock soundtracks whether or not her children are in the car.

Jennifer doesn't have spare time, but she makes it a point to spend at least one night a week with her sibling binge-watching whatever show they're currently plowing through (currently Numbers on Netflix), and she ferociously guards quality time with her son and daughter. She cooks when she has the sanity for it--adding garlic to the recipe whether it calls for it or not--and tries very hard not to let her arachnophobia keep her out of her basement on laundry day.

Jennifer's influences include Terry Pratchett (for wit), Laurell K. Hamilton (for sexual tension), Jim Butcher (for roguish flair), and Kim Harrison (for mythos). She is currently writing the series of her heart and her dreams, the series that has been percolating in her brain for the last decade...Blood Trails. An Urban Fantasy Mystery series that will combine the classic whodunit spirit with a contemporary fantasy setting. Expect mystery, magic, and mayhem, with characters that will make you laugh, cry, and probably stare at the screen with your jaw hanging down to the floor. Well, that's how they affect Jennifer anyway...

You can find Jennifer at 

Subscribe to Jennifer's Newsletter by clicking here




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