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

The Unseelie King
(The Kings Series, Book #6)
By Heather Killough-Walden

Blurb:

For thousands of years, two realms of unspeakable magic and mystery have existed in peace side by side. One is a land of light, of kindness, of dreams, and of color. The other is rendered in the gray lines of wickedness and seeped in the unbearable beauty of all that is forbidden. The first is ruled by the Seelie King. The other is ruled by Caliban… The Unholy.

Minerva Trystaine has always been the quiet twin, bullied by reality’s fierceness into a life of solitary sensitivity. What she witnesses, she feels. Living in a world that breeds one misfortune after another, she has had no choice but to sequester herself from outgoing life and any hope it might have otherwise offered her. She hides in her music, her hopes and dreams silent but for the harmony she gives them upon rare occasion, allowing them to be heard in perfect pitch by the rest of the world.

But when Minerva’s sister, Selene, is forced into a fantastical  realm of supernatural magic and mystery and taken as queen of the seelie kingdom, the twins are reunited with a world they can scarcely remember – but could never forget. They are Wishers. Born of furious magic and fueled by the need for justice, Wishers are the most feared magic users in the fae realms. For this reason, they were all but annihilated thousands of years ago. Minerva and her sister are the last of a slaughtered breed.

Just as Selene accepts her place on the seelie throne, Minerva struggles to come to grips with her changed world. But as she faces off with her lost-and-found identity, and with the unbelievable power swimming through her veins, she realizes she must also contend with the fact that Wishers are no more safe in this day and age than they were millennia ago. Someone wants her dead.

And the one man she should probably fear most, the one fae lord more dangerous than any other, the notorious and cruel Leanan King – just happens to be the only man in all the realms who can protect her.
The Unseelie King is the sixth book in Heather Killough-Walden’s acclaimed paranormal romance series, The Kings. Within its pages, a dark lord finds long lost hope in a beautiful, powerful soul, a lost spirit finds faith in tempting and forbidden magic, and a fierce and willful love finds the unbelievable strength to do what must be done to survive against overwhelming odds.

Available for purchase at 

            

About The Author

Heather Killough-Walden is a California native currently living in Texas with her husband and child. She is the New York Times bestselling author of the Big Bad Wolf series, The Kings series, The Chosen Soul series, The Lost Angels series, the Neverland series, and the October Trilogy. Heather’s educational background includes religious studies, archeology, and law. She has traveled and lived all over the world but hopes to one day live in a town with a world-class hockey team. (Let’s Go Pens!) Visit Heather’s website at www.killough-walden.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter.

You can find Heather at 

         

Presented By

Tara Lain's "Canning The Center" Blog Tour

Tour Stops:

December 17, 2014

Expressions of a Hopeful Romantic

December 18, 2014

Carly's Book Reviews

December 19, 2014

Because Two Men Are Better Than One

December 20, 2014

My Fiction Nook

December 21, 2014

Jennifers Taking A Break

December 22, 2014

books are love

December 23, 2014

Cryselle's Bookshelf

December 24, 2014

Buffy's Ramblings

December 25, 2014

(un)Conventional Bookviews

December 26, 2014

Love Bytes

December 27, 2014

My Book Addiction and More

December 28, 2014

Elisa - My reviews and Ramblings

December 29, 2014

Books-n-Kisses

December 30, 2014

Prism Book Alliance

December 31, 2014

Cilla's Reviews

January 1, 2015

The Purple Fantasy Den

January 2, 2015

Bayou Book Junkie

January 3, 2015

My BookMine

January 4, 2015

Nautical Star Books

January 5, 2015

In My Humble Opinion

January 6, 2015

Readaholic Anonymous 

Canning The Center
(Long Pass Chronicles, #2)
By Tara Lain

Blurb:

Six foot seven inch, 300 pound Jamal Jones loves football, so when he finds out the ultra-conservative owner of his new pro football team fired their current center because he’s gay, bisexual Jamal decides to stay in the closet and hang with the females. Then, at a small drag show, he comes face-to-face with his sexual fantasy in the form of Trixie LaRue, a drag queen so exquisitely convincing she scrambles Jamal’s hormones -- and his resolve to nurse his straight side.

Trevor Landry, aka Trixie LaRue, hides more than his genitals. A mathematician so brilliant he can’t be measured, Trevor disguises his astronomical IQ and his quirk for women’s clothes behind his act as a gay activist undergrad at Southern California University.

To Trevor, Jamal is the answer to a dream -- a man who can love and accept both his personas. When he discovers Jamal’s future is threatened if he’s seen with a guy, Trevor becomes Trixie to let Jamal pass as straight. But Trevor risks his position every time he puts on a dress. Is there a closet big enough to hold a football pro and a drag queen? 

Available for purchase at

   

    

Excerpt

Trevor stuck out a hand. “My name’s Trevor. Pleased to meet you.”

Jamal reached out to take the offered handshake and—whoops! In one gentle pull on Trevor’s arm that clearly required no effort on Jamal’s part, Trevor was up against that huge chest. “I’m Jamal. I don’t mean to be presumptuous. Just tell me to stop. But if I don’t kiss you again soon, I’m a dead man.”

Trevor smiled up into those dark brown eyes. “I would never want to be accused of murder.”

Such full, full lips. They moved slowly down, down to Trevor’s. The first touch sent a flash like lightning through every nerve, and he shivered.

Jamal pulled back. “Cold?”

“Quite the contrary.” He wrapped his arms tightly around the bunny’s neck.

Invitation delivered. Jamal’s mouth closed over Trevor’s. Those lips were just as soft as they looked, but not as silky as the tongue that slipped into his mouth. Oh my, a girl could get drunk on this sweetness. Trevor opened and received, allowing exploration—and sharing it. His poor abused cock, which had spent a couple of hours locked between his asscheeks, wanted to stretch in a whole new direction. Sweet God, he hadn’t throbbed like this in ages. One leg crawled up Jamal’s ass all by itself—and it was a long way up. Too far to get his bulge anywhere near its rightful companion. His eyes popped open. “Well, damn. Not much chance of sexing you up unless we’re lying down.”

Jamal chuckled. “Oh no, sweet thing, there are advantages to all these muscles.”

He picked Trevor up under the butt. Yes! Contact.

Trevor looked into those melted chocolate eyes. “I am estimating your equipment fully matches in size the other proportions of your body?” He wrapped his legs around Jamal’s surprisingly narrow waist.

Instead of getting all peacocky like he had the right to, Jamal kind of blushed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Surely you jest.”

He grinned, but he was breathing hard. “So you don’t mind big all over?”

“Not one little bit.”

Jamal rode Trev up and down against his cock. Oh God, that felt so good. Trevor never had decent sex because he had this reputation to uphold, and Trixie never had sex at all. Jesus, that added up to one crappy sex life. But the bunny was like a world in the middle. With Jamal, for the first time, he got to be both Trevor and Trixie and that was whole and perfect and hot! “You might want to stop unless you would enjoy watching me wash these jeans.”

“Better yet, how about I take you out and we get to know each other before I quit football and take up fucking you full time?”

Who could laugh at a time like this? But he still did. He hugged that big, muscular frame tight and rubbed his cock against Jamal’s huge bulge until they were both gasping. “No. No, I think you better write the resignation letter.”

“Deal. But I could take us out for root beer floats first.”

Trevor stopped. “I love root beer.”

Jamal held him still, their cocks still squashed in bliss. “You’re kidding. No one likes root beer but me.”

“I do. It’s my favorite.”

“There’s this diner—”

“Okay, fuck sex. I need a root beer float and a hamburger.”

About the Author

Tara Lain writes the Beautiful Boys of Romance in LGBT erotic romance novels that star her unique, charismatic heroes. Her first novel was published in January of 2011 and she’s now somewhere around book 23. Her best­selling novels have garnered awards for Best Series, Best Contemporary Romance, Best Ménage, Best LGBT Romance, Best Gay Characters, and Tara has been named Best Writer of the Year in the LRC Awards. In her other job, Tara owns an advertising and public relations firm. She often does workshops on both author promotion and writing craft. She lives with her soul­mate husband and her soul­mate dog in Laguna Beach, California, a pretty seaside town where she sets a lot of her books. Passionate about diversity, justice, and new experiences, Tara says on her tombstone it will say “Yes”!

You can find Tara at

               

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Presented By

Release Day Blitz: Four Days by Dannika Dark

Four Days

(Seven Series, Book #4)
By Dannika Dark

Blurb:

Ivy believes every life must have balance, and during the past year, she’s found harmony living with the Weston pack. When an evil spirit from her past threatens her wolf, it sets off a chain reaction of events that alters the course of her destiny.

Lorenzo Church is a powerful, wealthy Packmaster who rules his pack through intimidation and order. He has vowed to never love a woman because love can destroy an empire. But chaos is fast approaching in the form of a Shifter named Ivy—a Native American, like him, who has invaded his dreams since the moment they met. She is spirited, wise, and unattainable.

In an unexpected turn of events, Ivy must choose whether or not to let go of the one person she has always loved. Lorenzo discovers the root of her courage but will never win her as his mate unless he learns to listen to his heart.

Available for purchase at 

      

Excerpt

Lorenzo reached out and stroked my cheek. “When we first met, you were but a flowering vine swinging from the tree I found you in, trying to cling to anyone who would hold you.”

  

I brushed his hand away and drew back. “You are no better than my father, comparing me to a poisonous vine. I am not the desperate woman you make me out to be, and I have no need to cling to anyone but those who love me. I will not hold on to a great oak, because as magnificent as it may be, it will never hold me back. My family holds me with their kind words and love, and that is all a Shifter can ask for. What is it you want, Lorenzo? To question the integrity of my Packmaster? We’re better off within the city. There are places to take refuge, those who might help us, and…”

Through my powerful speech, Lorenzo cracked a smile. It was slight at first, but it became wide and he flashed his teeth at me.

I had begun to turn away when Lorenzo captured my wrist and tugged me against him. His arm slid around my lower back in a claiming gesture. He cupped the nape of my neck with his other hand, and before I could protest, Lorenzo rubbed noses with me.

In the middle of a crowded club.

“Such a spirited wolf you have,” he growled.

 “What do you want of me?”

He drew in a breath, as if taking in my scent. “Don’t you want to be my friend?”

“A man like you doesn’t make friends—he makes enemies.”

Lorenzo kissed me hard, his tongue slipping so deep that my legs quivered. Then he drew back and rubbed noses again. “I can do friendship. Sunday night. Checkers. My place.” He pressed his lips to my ear and seduced me with whispers. “I can’t get you out of my head. These men leer at you in a way that makes me want to lose control. You need protection.”

“My pack protects me,” I said, forgetting the crowd around us as we held each other close.

“Will they protect you with their bodies as I will with mine?”

I tried to create distance between us. “Actions speak louder than words, and nothing but honey drips from your mouth.”

He chuckled darkly. “Your sharp tongue and wise words make my wolf sing.”

The Seven Series

About the Author

This is the segment where you learn a little more about who I am, so here's what I can tell you:  I drink copious amounts of vitamin water placed precariously close to my laptop while writing. These are two healthy habits I have no intention of breaking. I'm a transplant living in the south, but I was born in the 70's to a military dad who moved us around the world.

When I'm not writing (which is all the time), I'm hunting down Indie music, watching movies, reading, eating Tex-Mex, discovering new ways to humiliate myself bowling, and burning up my laptop battery on the Internet. I have a relaxed, easy-going personality and don't like drama. I live with a cat who thinks she is a dog, or a goat (she eats plastic, so I'm not sure which).

Throughout my life, I've had insomnia. Counting sheep never worked and eventually I would imagine those sheep were the sole source of food after an apocalyptic battle where only thousands survived. I made up stories in a futile attempt to bore myself to sleep. The problem was, I got so wrapped up in my "head stories" that I would continue them through the following nights, changing it up each time to make it more exciting. Eventually, I started writing my ideas down - creating short stories, and then I discovered my love for poetry.

It's almost embarrassing how many spiral notebooks and stacks of paper I have of poetry and lyrics.

Another passion: digital art. I design all my book covers, marketing, and series art. I'm a very visual person and pursued photography as an avid hobby for many years.

I am not a YA author (I feel like I have to state this only because I've had a few people ask), but I think it's wonderful there are so many books available to teens in Urban Fantasy and Paranormal.

I am finally doing what I have always wanted to do: giving my characters a pulse through writing full time. I focus on adult urban fantasy romance, but I don't like labels and I enjoy blending genres to break out of the confines of predictability.

But it's what I love to do.

Danni

You can stalk, I mean find Dannika here: 

             

Presented by 

Release Day Blitz: The Debt Collector - Season 2 by Susan Kaye Quinn

The Debt Collector

Season 2

by Susan Kaye Quinn

Blurb:

What’s your life worth on the open market? 

In this gritty urban fantasy, debt collectors take your life energy and give it to someone more “worthy”… all while paying the price with black marks on their souls.

“Wraith is amazing and just as compelling as Lirium—once again I'm hooked!!” 

“I loved being back in this world! Wraith has captivated me.” 

Wraith is a shadow in the night, haunting the bedrooms of the rich "high potentials" who have stolen life energy from the desperate and dying. The justice and the sweet mercy hit that follow keep her from falling into her own personal abyss. Her secret nighttime work also keeps her on level for her real mission: carrying on her father's legacy of attempting to bring an end to debt collection as a whole. But when a mysterious debt collector interrupts her in the act and discovers her secret, everything Wraith loves may be destroyed by the one thing she can never fix-- the original sin of being a debt collector herself.

Contains mature content and themes.

OPTIONED FOR VIRTUAL REALITY BY IMMERSIVE ENTERTAINMENT 

2014 Semi-Finalist in Science Fiction in the Kindle Book Awards

The nine episodes of Season Two of the Debt Collector serial are collectively 125k words or about 500 pages. 

It is recommended that you start with the first season, but each season is a complete story for that debt collector and can serve as an entry point to the series. There are five planned seasons in the Debt Collector series, the first four each from the perspective of a different debt collector with the fifth season bringing all four together. 

READING ORDER

Season One – Lirium - COMPLETE

Episodes 1-9: Delirium, Agony, Ecstasy, Broken, Driven, Fallen, Promise, Ruthless, Passion

Season Two – Wraith 

10 – Wraith (10.20)

11 – Specter (10.27)

12 – Menace (11.3)

13 – Temptation (11.10)

14 – Shattered (11.17)

15 – Penance (11.24)

16 – Judgment (12.1)

17 – Corruption (12.8)

18 – Atonement (12.15)

BOX SET (Vol 10-18) – (12.15) 

Available for purchase at

Excerpt

Excerpt from Debt Collector Season 2, first episode – Wraith

My new collection suit weighs less than a shadow on my skin, and my soft-soled boots don’t even whisper as I creep across the thick, yielding carpet of my target’s apartment. With the best bullet-resistant synthetics money can buy, the black curve-hugging suit makes me look more like female-special-forces than someone’s hot date for the night. It raised the bellman’s eyebrows, but an untraceable debit card got me waved through the lobby, no problem. Money buys a lot of things. Access to one of the highest-security luxury buildings in LA. A ninety-fifth-floor apartment high above the smog-soaked city, complete with all the clean air you can breathe. And the no-doubt illegal collection of ivory-handled daggers I passed on the way in. It’s too bad for data-mining mogul Adrien Odel that money can’t buy your way out of a blackened soul.

I know.

I’ve tried.

And tonight I’ve come to collect a debt he doesn’t even think he owes.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Odel’s apartment, the city is lit up with a nighttime electric haze, the kind that makes it look seedy even in the high-rent district. It’s the perfect backdrop for a collection, and my suit is a black silhouette against it, a hole of death punched in the city’s twinkling lights. The high-tech fabric clings to me like the original sin I can never expiate, the one every debt collector is born with: the ability to deliver death with the slightest touch. We traffic in it, surround ourselves with it, and can never escape it.

Not that I haven’t tried that, too.

But even a short three-week dry spell away from collecting has me needy as all hell. The craving for a life energy hit claws at my back, and every step across the carpet amps up the desire. Even the possibility of Odel pulling a gun and shooting me dead hypes the thrill a little. My palm aches in anticipation—for the justice and the high that comes with it—but I take it slow, watching the placement of my feet and checking the windows. Along one edge, next to a mile-wide screen and some pretentious artwork, there’s a control panel. Only the rich want windows that open in the city, but it’s a bonus for me, especially given the windows face the broad expanse of the skyline and not the high-rise next door.

As I check out the control panel, the high-rise becomes a peep show. A woman’s naked body is pressed against the glass, exposed to the city’s onlookers as a man clutches her bare skin and makes love to her. I’m transfixed by the way they move, skin against skin, without care for the contact or the watchers. In a moment, they’re gone. Maybe reason broke through the passion. Maybe the glass was cold, in spite of the perpetual heat of LA.

Regardless, the image holds me hostage.

Having a lover isn’t something that’s part of my future. Or my present, for that matter. But that doesn’t stop the base need from surging up, usually at the least convenient of times. Then a different image—a cold, pale specter from my past—crawls out of the dark corners of my mind and reminds me I’m not the kind of woman who gets to have a normal life. I’m the kind who takes life and then gives it away. And the ecstasy of that is the closest I’ll ever get to the normal kind again—so it had better be good enough.

I couldn’t stomach even that pleasure for a while, not after what the debt collectors did to my father. I managed a whole three weeks without a single collection. But in the end, it’s the only thing that keeps me stable. And I’ve had a severe lack of stable ever since my father’s death nearly tore down the teetering scaffold of lies that comprises my life. That’s when the abyss reared up and stared me full in the face. Will-power alone wasn’t enough to stop it—the darkness just opened its maw and threatened to swallow me whole. At least that would have put an end the torment… but I couldn’t let the sin of who I am destroy everything my father had worked for. That we had both worked for. So here I am, dressed like a phantom, stalking the rich to give to the poor. With a tremor in my hands that’s more than a little unsettling. For better and worse, it’s the one thing that keeps me out of that dark place and gives me hope that one day I might redeem everything I am and everything I’ve done.

I stalk, heel-to-toe, past the windows, through a long hallway tastefully decorated with more pretentious art, and toward the back bedroom where Odel is supposed to be sleeping. I buy information just like I buy access. My source tells me Odel is in bed every night at ten, like clockwork, occasionally with companions, but mostly not. Tonight, his companion will be a darkness-clad nightmare who will leave him in a cold sweat, instead of a hot one.

When I reach his room, it’s vast—there’s a ridiculous round bed that’s so large, it’s practically a playground; several lacquered pieces of furniture that form glistening shadow-lumps around the perimeter; and more windows, the kind with wide vertical slats that leave shadowed stripes across Odel’s room. A giant aquarium is built into the wall behind the bed, and bioluminescent creatures undulate through the clouded water. They cast a blood-red glow that oozes in between the slices of darkness. I have no idea how the man sleeps in this room, but his barely audible breaths are the slow, steady rhythm of the unconscious.

There’s a lot of floor to cover before I can reach him, so I keep my footfalls muted. I give silent thanks that he’s alone in his bed—I could handle two at a time, but his companions are probably innocent of any real crime, with the exception of their bad taste in men. I slowly tug off my gloves on the way and tuck them in the back of my suit. The less DNA I leave behind, the better. Not that my targets are eager to call the police—too much scrutiny in their lives might turn up the source of those ill-gotten hits. And the mob doesn’t like it when a bright light shines on their bustling life energy trade business. The mob cutting Odel off from his supplier would be the best he could hope for. The worst would involve caskets and weepy nighttime companions. At least with me, he only stands to lose the years of life he’s stolen.

I reach the bed without him waking. His bio says he’s ten years older than me, but thanks to a steady supply of life energy, he looks about my age: twenty-five, if you count the years, not the mileage. With all that life energy in store, he would outlive me by a long shot, if he kept everything he has taken.

I’m about to fix that.

About the Author

Susan Kaye Quinn is the author of the bestselling Mindjack Trilogy and the Debt Collector serial, as well as other speculative fiction novels and short stories. Her work has appeared in the Synchronic anthology and has been optioned for Virtual Reality by Immersive Entertainment. Her business card says "Author and Rocket Scientist" but she mostly sits around in her PJs in awe that she gets to write full time.

You can find her at 

         

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