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Category Archives: Paranormal Romance

Release Blitz: Blood Laws by Lexi C. Foss

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Today we have the release day blitz for Lexi C Foss’ Blood Laws! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy of this sexy romance today!

Title: Blood Laws

Author: Lexi C Foss

Genre: Paranormal Romance

About Blood Laws:

Astasiya Davenport’s best friend is dead. No, not just dead—murdered. Burned alive. Decapitated. And the only one who can help her figure out what happened is a demon masquerading as a billionaire playboy.

Because that happens in real life.

Yet Astasiya has always known the supernatural exists. Not the kind in fairy tales or happily-ever-afters, but the kind that kills.

Issac Wakefield knows the rules—when you find a fledgling immortal in the city, you kill her. Except Astasiya intrigues him with her uncanny abilities, marking her as too useful for death.

With revenge on his mind, he strikes up an agreement with her instead, one that’ll benefit them both. But as complications arise, secrets unravel, initiating a lethal game that threatens both of their lives.

Loyalties will be tested.

Bonds will be made.

And a forbidden love will rise.

Welcome to the Immortal Curse world, where angels and vampires are redefined and Seraphim reign.

Grab Your Copy Today:

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Exclusive Excerpt:

“What are you wearing under this dress?” he asked, his mouth brushing hers, the words whisper-soft.

Not what she expected him to say. “E-excuse me?”

His teeth sank into her lower lip, making her yelp. “Focus.”

On what? The demon club? The humans dying downstairs? The fact that you’re a fucking vampire? Where should I begin?

He sighed, his forehead falling to hers. “Astasiya, we have very little time to sort this before the Conclave. I need you to work with me. Both our lives depend on it. What are you wearing?”

She cleared her throat, her hold on his neck tightening as if needing his support to respond. And maybe she did. This was all a lot to take in. “A, uh, thong,” she managed to say. “And a strapless bra.” Both black and lacy, but she didn’t add that part.

One of his hands drifted from her hair to her waist, then down to her ass. His palm flattened and forced her to arch up into him. A breath hitched in her throat at the feel of his growing arousal.

He’s turned on… here… now?

She trembled, the heat of his body seeping into her cool skin, warming her blood. They were standing rather close. And he smelled amazing, as always.

Anywhere else, in the dark, she’d have kissed him.

But here…

“The dress will have to stay, then,” he said, the disappointment evident in his voice.

She frowned. “What’s wrong with my dress?” It hit her midthigh and clung to her curves. She looked good in it.

He ignored her, his mouth brushing hers in a chaste kiss as his hips pressed firmly into hers.

Definitely aroused.

“You’re going to see things tonight that will make you want to scream, but you must remain calm and quiet. Mortals who overreact die, and they die badly.”

About Lexi C. Foss:

Lexi C. Foss is an award winning and bestselling author of paranormal romance. She loves complex plots, twists and turns, and writing fantasy with strong, realistic elements. Many of her readers comment on how her worlds feel real, and she not-so-secretly wishes they were—at least some of them.

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Throwback Thursday: White Hot Kiss (The Dark Elements #1) by Jennifer Armentrout

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“I lost myself the moment I found you.” 

“People with the purest souls are capable of the greatest evils.” 

“Your life isn’t about all you can’t do. It’s about what you can do.” 

“The newcomer stood well over six feet, as tall as any Warden. His hair was dark, the color of obsidian, and it reflected blue in the dim light. Lazy locks slipped over his forehead and curled just below his ears. Brows arched over golden eyes and his cheekbones were broad and high. He was attractive. Very attractive. Mind-bendingly beautiful, actually, but the sardonic twist to his full lips chilled his beauty. The black T-shirt stretched across his chest and flat stomach. A huge tattoo of a snake curled around his forearm, the tail disappearing under his sleeve and the diamond-shaped head rested on the top of his hand. He looked my age. Total crush material—if it wasn’t for the fact that he had no soul.” 

“You undo me. You have no idea how much you undo me.” 

One kiss could be the last.

Seventeen-year-old Layla just wants to be normal. But with a kiss that kills anything with a soul, she’s anything but normal. Half demon, half gargoyle, Layla has abilities no one else possesses.

Raised among the Wardens—a race of gargoyles tasked with hunting demons and keeping humanity safe—Layla tries to fit in, but that means hiding her own dark side from those she loves the most. Especially Zayne, the swoon-worthy, incredibly gorgeous and completely off-limits Warden she’s crushed on since forever.

Then she meets Roth—a tattooed, sinfully hot demon who claims to know all her secrets. Layla knows she should stay away, but she’s not sure she wants to—especially when that whole no-kissing thing isn’t an issue, considering Roth has no soul.

But when Layla discovers she’s the reason for the violent demon uprising, trusting Roth could not only ruin her chances with Zayne… it could brand her a traitor to her family. Worse yet, it could become a one-way ticket to the end of the world.

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Release Blitz: The Dragon of New Orleans by Genevieve Jack

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The New Orleans Dragon, an all-new standalone Paranormal Romance by Genevieve Jack is NOW AVAILABLE!

New Orleans: city of intrigue, supernatural secrets, voodoo, and one enigmatic dragon
For 300 years, Gabriel Blakemore has survived hidden among humans after a coup in his native realm of Paragon scattered him and his siblings across the globe. Keeping his secret has preserved his dragon magic but led to a life devoid of true intimacy. Now a voodoo curse threatens to end his immortal existence. His only hope is to find an antidote, one that may rest in a mortal woman.
Death is a welcome end for Raven Tanglewood. After five years of unsuccessful treatment for her brain cancer, her illness has become a prison, something her adventurous soul cannot abide. So when an enchanting stranger appears at the end of her bed, she welcomes him as the grim reaper come to carry her to her eternal rest.
When Gabriel heals Raven and binds her to him, he awakens a connection stronger than any he’s ever known. But she sees the bond as another kind of prison. Can Gabriel win her love and trust in time to awaken the life-saving magic within her? Or will his fiery personality and possessive ways drive her from his side and seal his fate?

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About Genevieve Jack

USA Today bestselling author Genevieve Jack writes wild, witty, and wicked-hot paranormal romance and fantasy. Coffee and wine are her biofuel, the love lives of witches, shifters, and vampires her favorite topic of conversation. She harbors a passion for old cemeteries and ghost tours, thanks to her years attending a high school rumored to be haunted. Although originally from the Midwest, she adores the beaches of the southeast, where she spends her days with her laptop and one lazy dog.

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Release Blitz: Ocean’s Captive by D.S. Wrights & Lilith Dark

╔══.★○👄 ═══════╗
★○👄 A Merman, Yes Please! ★○👄


OCEAN’S CAPTIVE Release Day Tour + A Giveaway

#Dark #Erotica #Paranormal #Suspense #NewRelease







🌊Add On Goodreads


Poor little rich girl turned marine animal activist, Angeline “Angie” Malboury is in over her head when the liberation of a sea creature takes a turn for the much worse.

She ends up alone and barely clothed on a yacht with several henchmen of a ruthless and resourceful boss. Angie is quickly turned into a captive herself, along with something that isn’t the young whale she thought she was saving, but a creature she thought only existed in fairy tales. A fully grown fifteen foot Merman, tail included.

There is only one goal for the two unexpected allies, escape their cruel and sadistic captors before time runs out.



About Lilith Dark

Lilith Dark doesn’t see herself as an author, but rather a story developer and enjoys working in collaboration with other authors to create thrilling, paranormal erotica books with shocking twists.

About D.S. Wrights

D.S. “Dee” Wrights was born 29th March 1980 in Germany. Her name is a pen name, and she describes writing as her passion and calling. Dee speaks three languages fluently, English, German and Dutch, and some other rudimentary.

Although she started writing at an early age and two short stories were published during high school, one as a school project and one in a regional newsletter – Dee never dared of thinking to pursue a writing career. Until she started writing fanfiction and readers encouraged her to publish The Beast And Me as an ebook in May 2014.

Dee worked at a publishing house at which she earned insight into the work, process, and production of publishing books. That was the reason why she chose to do all the work herself, apart from proofreading.

When talking about her novels, Dee explains that she loves to dive into the mindset of different characters, especially those of villains and anti-heroes. However, in addition to that, she enjoys writing women who start off as weak and grow through their experiences in her books and end up being their own hero.


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Twitter: @DSWrights




Release Blitz: Immortal Desires Boxed Set

Today we are celebrating the release of IMMORTAL DESIRES, a boxed set featuring 19 paranormal romance titles. You can purchase it for .99 cents! All proceeds go to the American Cancer Society.

Purchase Now for 99 cents!

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Immortal Desires

A Paranormal Boxed Set – Available Now!

19 Books for 99 cents and all proceeds go to the American Cancer Society!

Blurb for Immortal Desires

Immortals last all night….so do their desires. Dive into this wickedly sexy boxed set, packed with thrilling and steamy romances from some of your favorite New York Times, USA Today and Amazon Bestselling authors. We’ve brought the heat with paranormal bad boys who will leave you begging for more. If you love vampires, dragons, shifters, ghosts and other hotties that go bump in the night, this is a limited charity boxed set you don’t want to miss out on!

Immortal Desires authors:

Melanie James, Lia Davis, A.K. Michaels, Madison Sevier, Heather Hildebrand, Rebecca Rivard, Bella Roccaforte, Monica La Porta, Jennifer Theriot (writing as J.D. Frettier), Susan Griscom, N.L. Hoffmann, Elaine Barris, Nicole Garcia, S. J. Pierce, CJ Hartnett, Casey Hagen, D.J. Bryce, Cora A. Murray, Christina Escue

Purchase Now for 99 cents!

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Author DJ Bryce loves her men tall, dark, and Alpha. She can often be found relaxing with a cup of coffee, a handful of RedVines, and a dirty book, with her three dogs snoozing happily at her feet.
She’s a lover of The Walking Dead, Romantic Comedies, and writing sexy shifters.
For information on her new releases, promotions, and her favorite PNR reads, sign up for her newsletter:


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Blog Tour: Hardest Fall by Julliette Cross

The tattooed demoness, Bone, doesn’t like anything except the magical weapons she makes. But she has hidden talents few know about. When I was brought to her near death, she used her Seraph song to manipulate flesh and bone to heal me. But she wasn’t happy about it.

Now I must return the favor. Even though she refuses to take sides in the apocalypse, there’s one job she’s not willing to do for the demon prince Rook. If she doesn’t, her head will end up on a spike. The question is, what sinister plans does the prince have with this unusual weapon? And what plans does he have for her? Of course, there’s a good chance we’re all going to die anyway, but No matter what, I will do anything to protect this fierce woman—and not just because she saved me.

So, we’re both off to kill a demon—or three—and possibly save the world.

About the Book

Hardest Fall
by Juliette Cross

Dominion Book Three

Paranormal Romance
Urban Fantasy

Entangled Amara

Publication Date
February 25, 2019

Amazon  |  Entangled Publishing  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Kobo  |  iBooks


Chapter One


No. Nothing’s fair in love and war. I agreed with the haunting lyrics by Fleurie floating through my shop while I leaned over a finished blade, etching a skull and crossbones into black steel. This fresh hell called the apocalypse hadn’t changed my mind about humanity. Or heaven. Or the underworld. I knew that humans were doomed eighteen hundred years ago when I watched them singing hymns as they walked to their brutal deaths. That was when I’d stepped down from Elysium—gave up its Light—and channeled my gifts into something more worthwhile. Arming the fighters, offering survival to the fittest, and taking no sides.

So here I was, finishing a blade for one of the Twelvers, a human resistance fighter. Last week, I sold to an angel warrior a specialized crossbow with my own brand of powerful ether ammo designed to incinerate any creature—supernatural or earthly. And tomorrow another demon would stroll in, wanting to buy my wares.

The revolving door of otherworld beings and desperate humans with a need only I could fill kept my hands busy and my head on autopilot. Just the way I liked it. Or at least, that’s what I—


I jerked, nearly slicing my thumb with the engraving tool.


I recognized the voice yelling my name from the front corridor of my basement workshop. A glance at the camera’s monitor above the workbench confirmed it was him, all right. Dommiel, a dangerous demon who recently switched sides—definitely the work of his angel lover—and one of the few demons I called friend.

Anya wasn’t with him, but I recognized the demon hunter George from around London—and from the time I visited his estate to heal Dommiel. Tonight, he helped carry the body of a human with a bleeding chest wound. Leaping toward the steel inner door, I unlatched and opened it wide. They were steps from the door, moving fast.

“Why are you bringing me a dead man, Dommiel?”

“Nearly dead, beautiful,” he said, voice unrattled as usual. He eyed the table at the center of my shop, littered with ammo and handguns. “I need another table.”

Heaving a sigh, I led them through the archway to my private inner rooms and gestured toward the high wooden table against the wall where I crafted harnesses. Sweeping it clear of scraps of leather, I stepped out of the way while the hunter lay the injured man’s head down gently. That was when I noticed the similarity in their looks—George and the nearly dead man. Not identical by any means, but I saw a likeness in the coloring of skin and golden hair, though the hunter’s leaned toward auburn. Same dimpled chin, chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and long slash of a nose. But I knew this hunter was centuries old. This human couldn’t be—

Taking in the injured man, I realized my mistake. Because his lifeforce was ebbing away, I hadn’t sensed the low hum of otherworldly power pulsing from his body, pumping slowly through his veins.

“Who is he?” I asked, stepping closer.

“He’s a Dominus Daemonum,” said George. Master of Demons. A hunter, like him. “And he’s the last of my kin.”

I swiveled toward Dommiel, whose black iris rimmed in ruby red—the one not covered with a patch—stared at me expectantly.

“I’m not sure why you brought him here.” Gesturing to my shop, the blades and pieces of steel and leather stacked on every surface, I said, “As you can see, I’m not a healer.”

“Bullshit,” growled Dommiel. He thrust out his mechanical arm and wiggled his black steel fingers. “You can heal him.”

George spoke. “Look, I know you’re a seraph.”

Was a seraph,” I corrected.

He swallowed, his eyes darting nervously to the unconscious man bleeding out on my work table.

“You have the power of inspiration. You can save him.” The handsome hunter’s desperate expression stoked something in that long-dead organ inside my rib cage. “Please,” he whispered.

“Come on, Bone. I know you can do this,” urged Dommiel. “Any price. You name it.”

Shifting my attention back to the injured man, I noticed that the pool of red seeping across his unusually crisp, white shirt was slowing down. His heart was pumping slower. Gripping both sides of the button-down, I ripped it open, still wondering at a man—a demon hunter—dressed up and groomed so impeccably during the apocalypse. Who did that? Apparently, he did.

The wound looked to be a clean stab through his left pectoral, right where his heart was.

“Who stabbed him?”

“One of Simian and Rook’s red priests.”

Not good. “Was the blade tinged with the demon princes’ essence?”

“No,” said George. “They were trying to kill him. Not take him as a slave.”

A demon used his essence to take possession of others.

“How do you know that?” I glanced over at him.

“My cousin Xander, here, keeps pissing on their plans. The demon princes, that is. They’re trying to get rid of him.”

I swiveled back to the man on my worktable. “Seems they were almost successful.”

“Yeah. Xander wiped out about twenty on his own, from what we could tell. Even with this injury.”

Impressive fighter. His pale chest, smeared with blood, seemed to grow even paler. I hesitated only one more second.

“Strip him,” I ordered, marching back toward my living quarters where I kept my suture kit.

Dommiel was the only one I’d ever operated on, and that was to attach his new arm. I feared what I’d find when I opened up this Xander. I wasn’t a surgeon. But they were right. My power as a former seraph had not diminished when I left Elysium—the home of heavenly hosts. This power of inspiration could be twisted into persuasion. I’d once inspired the souls of the lost to walk away from despair—before I’d fallen into that dark pit myself and come to understand its allure.

I now enjoyed manipulating metal and steel—much less difficult to manage—singing my song of creation into the metalwork, making it become what I envisioned in my mind. I’d only ever once sung my song to manipulate flesh and bone. For Dommiel. To give him back his arm. And the result had left me drained, exhausted, and…content.

By the time I’d grabbed my kit and wound back through my bedroom and small kitchen into the workroom, they’d stripped the hunter down to his underwear. Dommiel had a wet cloth and was wiping clean the wound.

No.” I pushed him out of the way and popped open my leather bag. “It needs disinfecting. That rag could have all manner of bacteria on it.”

He moved over as I pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and ripped out a clean sponge from its wrapper. The bleeding had slowed to a crawl, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The blood might be clotting, but it was more likely that he was near death, his heart pumping slower. I kept my instruments sterile, but I still wiped the scalpel with the antiseptic-soaked sponge.

“You keep a scalpel and surgical instruments handy, yet you say you’re not a healer?” asked George.

“Well, George. I hate to break this to you, but we’re in the midst of an apocalypse.”

Dommiel chuckled.

“I’ve had to stitch myself up a time or two.”

Without glancing up at either of them, I set to my work, opening the knife wound wider with the scalpel, cutting deeper through the bone.

“Sponge, Dommiel.” He blotted the wound while I held it open with surgical tongs, delving deeper to see the damage. “I prefer working with metal,” I grumbled as I went back in.

“Why’s that?” asked George.

“Metal doesn’t bleed.”

Once I could finally see the damage done to his heart, I nodded and marched to the opposite wall where I kept my various lengths of wire.

“Not as bad as I thought.”

“Really?” George sounded more than relieved.

“Well, let me amend my statement.” I rummaged through the bins on the wall with blood-stained hands until I found what I needed. The finest alloy I’d ever come across—a blend of titanium, aluminum, copper, stainless steel, and carbon fiber. “If this doesn’t work, he will certainly die. But his attacker’s knife cut cleanly through his left pulmonary artery and left pulmonary veins, not through the aorta.”

“But you can fix him, can’t you?” Dommiel’s confidence in my ability gave me pause.

I was well-known for my talents in the art of weapon-making. But he believed in my ability to heal, not just kill. Clearing my throat, I used my wire cutters to snip off a thick ribbon of the dark gray alloy. I’d never used my magic in the presence of anyone but Dommiel.

“I can,” I assured them both. “I’d prefer it if you left.”

“I’d rather stay.” George stepped forward with those imploring eyes, damn him. “If he wakes up or dies on this table, I want him to know I’m here.”

I wasn’t shy about my abilities. I’d just rather others not know the extent to which I could use them. It put my own life in danger, and Rook had already been sniffing around me again.

“Please,” George begged in a forlorn voice, one that tugged on that part of me that was more angel than demon.

“Stand out of the way.” I snapped a look at Dommiel. “Both of you.”

With a switch on the wall, I locked and bolted my outer door so we wouldn’t be interrupted by drop-in customers. Even so, I closed the door to my warehouse of goods, shutting us in the room, then I flipped off the camera monitor and the lights. Swiftly pulling my sage and camphor candles from the cupboard, I placed and lit them in the corners of the room, whispering the words to summon my magic.

Respirare…audite.” I then summoned my song. “Et huc venerunt…mihi carmen.”

To their credit, the demon and demon hunter in my midst remained silent. Cupping my hands around the sheet of metal—cleaned with antiseptic—I held them before me over the open chest of the dying hunter.

The song found me fast and hard, as if it knew this was more vital than metalwork, humming from my core in a ripple of supernatural sound. I didn’t always sing in creation. I didn’t need to. Not for small tasks. But the song always knew more than me, recognized the need and the importance beyond my own understanding. I was an instrument, after all. A conduit for the seraph song. And though I’d stopped singing to save souls long ago, the song had not left me…when I deigned to set it free. It seemed more than eager now to help me save this hunter’s life.

When the voice rose up into my throat and I let loose the ancient words—the song of inspiration and making—a violent wind ghosted through the room, guttering the candles. Trembling with the power vibrating through my limbs, I held steady and let the melody pour into my cupped hands. An electric-green glow shimmered there, flickering up with magical flame, melting the metal and melding with my essence of song.

My voice rose with an ethereal melody, rattling the loose metal in the bins on the wall behind me. The green-glowing alloy snaked out of my hand and poured into the open wound of the hunter, seeping down into the cavity. I leaned over him and lowered my voice, crooning old words that had no direct translation in any human language. The closest I could come to them were…grow anew, love the flesh, mend the broken, make it whole.

My attention drifted back to the unconscious man’s face. His beautiful face. For there was no denying this hunter was gifted with profound masculine beauty. Taking the wet rag Dommiel had dropped, I wiped the dried blood smeared on his brow. Continuing to wipe his face clean, I ventured lower, my melody slowing. Wiping the broad planes of his chest and torso, the ridges of his abdomen, I noted the flesh of his gaping wound stitching itself together, the green glow dimming as it was swallowed by the closing skin.

Skimming the rag down to his legs, I continued my exploration, wiping every smudge of red, making sure none of the blood was a sign of another injury. The stains were all from his one wound or from ones he’d inflicted on another. I finished at his feet, the song leaving me, and I folded the rag onto the table. Placing a hand over his now-sutured wound—a thick red scar slashing over his heart—I hummed softly, feeling his heart beat strong against my palm. The ripples of seraph magic leeched away, fading to wherever it came from.

Gratias tibi.” I thanked the power for its gift, feeling utterly drained as I smiled down at the demon hunter.

“Bone,” came Dommiel’s gruff voice from behind me.

Turning, I hadn’t expected to find the expressions they wore—of awe and wonder. And of deep gratitude.

Dommiel shook his head. “I never”—he stared down at Xander—“you never sang like that for me.”

I scowled. “The song does what it wants. I’m not in control.”

The demon smiled. “Your song must like him, then.”

That sparked even more ire. I didn’t know this hunter or care for him any more than I would a stranger on the street. It wasn’t my fault the song was enamored with his plight. I was about to rattle off a few choice words for Dommiel’s insinuation that I was playing favorites when George stepped forward.

Swallowing hard, tears standing in his eyes, he said, “I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was the—”

He raised a hand to stop my protests. “No matter. If you weren’t willing, he’d be dead now.”

Realizing I still had my hand on his bare chest, I stepped back. “What about Uriel? Your archangel? He couldn’t have healed him?”

George cut a swift negative. “He’s still healing from his own ordeal and from—” He thumbed at Dommiel.

“Yeah, yeah. From breaking me out of Simian’s torture dungeon. She knows.”

I glanced back at the hunter, still unconscious but breathing easier. “I’d better keep him for a day or two. At least until he wakes up. I don’t know if he’ll need a second…treatment.”

I wasn’t sure what to call what I’d done. That seemed close enough.

“Yeah.” Dommiel grinned and quirked his brow. “Seraph treatment.”

“Dammit, Dommiel. Only you could make that sound dirty.”

He winked. “Speaking of dirty…I’d best be getting back to Anya.” He headed for the door. “I left her with that Twelver, Cooper. Don’t like the way he looks at her.”

George scoffed. “The way all men look at a beautiful angel with blue wings?”

“Yeah. Don’t like it.”

The Twelvers were the human resistance fighters who’d banded together in this scary new world, determined to not only survive but to fight back against the demon hordes and thrive. I sold to them as well, willing to help out anyone who could help themselves. Hell, they were the underdogs. They needed all the help they could get.

George shook his head, turning to me. “I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow. Thank you, again.”

He followed Dommiel out, leaving me alone with the demon hunter.

While my wards kept anyone from sifting through my outer walls and doors into my home, I hadn’t put up wards to keep from sifting within my own inner workroom and living space. Call me lazy, but I liked to get to the bathroom in a blink if needed. I also liked to arm myself quickly if someone broke in to rob my warehouse.

Gently, I leaned over the hunter, scooping one arm under his neck and gripping his shoulder. The other arm I wrapped around his waist, then sifted with him in my arms, vanishing and reappearing in my bed. His legs were entwined with mine, my arm trapped under the weight of his upper body.


I rolled in a panic to get him off me and wound up straddling him. That spiked my adrenaline more, his warm bare torso heating through my jean-clad thighs. Scrambling off of him and the bed, I blew out a deep breath. He remained unconscious and unfazed by this badass demoness’s panicked reaction to being trapped in bed with a man.

Laughing, I shook my head, hands on hips. It’s not like I hadn’t been in bed with men before. Something about this hunter’s proximity sent my senses into a spiral. I’ll just have to stay as far away from him as possible.

Get him well. Then get him out of my house.

Yes, that’s what I needed to do.

Marching back into my workroom and to the blade that still needed finishing, I shut the door behind me.

“And definitely out of my bed.”

Tour Wide Giveaway

To celebrate the release of HARDEST FALL by Juliette Cross, we’re giving away a $25 Amazon gift card to one lucky winner!

GIVEAWAY TERMS & CONDITIONS:  Open to internationally. One winner will receive a $25 Amazon gift card. This giveaway is administered by Pure Textuality PR on behalf of Entangled Publishing.  Giveaway ends 3/1/2019 @ 11:59pm EST. Limit one entry per reader. Duplicates will be deleted.  CLICK HERE TO ENTER!

About Juliette Cross

JULIETTE CROSS calls lush, moss-laden Louisiana home where the landscape curls into her imagination, creating mystical settings for her stories. She has a B.A. in creative writing from Louisiana State University, a M.Ed. in gifted education, and was privileged to study under the award-winning author Ernest J. Gaines in grad school. Her love of mythology, legends, and art serve as constant inspiration for her works. From the moment she read JANE EYRE as a teenager, she fell in love with the Gothic romance–brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. Even then, she not only longed to read more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own.

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads  |  Amazon

This promotion is brought to you by Pure Textuality PR.

Release Day Launch: Ensnared by Elisabeth Naughton

From New York Times Bestselling author Elisabeth Naughton, comes ENSNARED, a new novella in her Eternal Guardians Series, brought to you by 1,001 Dark Nights! Be sure to grab your copy today!


From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Elisabeth Naughton comes a new story in her Eternal Guardians series…

RYDER–Mysterious, powerful, every woman’s fantasy come true.

For thousands of years, Ryder has reveled in his role as an immortal messenger—a dream weaver sent to seduce and manipulate. Until he’s ordered to deceive a fantasy of his own.

Zakara, the daughter of one of the mightiest Eternal Guardians, is his perfect woman. But she’s impervious to Ryder’s advances. Each attempt to sway her to his will pushes him deeper into a dreamscape she seems to be controlling. To survive, Ryder will need to find a way to master his sexy new prey. Because if he can’t, he risks forever condemning himself and the woman he’s grown to love to a never-ending nightmare drawn straight from the twisted depths of hell.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | Amazon AU

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She’d never been to this beach. She didn’t know if it was somewhere in Argolea—the blessed realm created by Zeus for the ancient heroes’ ancestors—or if she was somewhere in the human realm. All she knew was that she liked it. She liked how peaceful it was. Liked how breathtaking the scenery was. Liked that here—wherever she’d taken herself this time—no one was telling her what to do or pressuring her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’d say you look lost, but something tells me you are exactly where you want to be,” a deep male voice said at her back.

Kara whipped around, her long blonde hair blocking her vision before she brushed it aside, and stared at the man reclined on a padded chaise lounge on the beach. A man and chaise that hadn’t been there only moments before. A man who was vaguely familiar though she couldn’t figure out why.

“I…who are you?” she asked.

“Who do you want me to be?”

His question made her blink. Who did she want him to be? She had no idea. All she knew was that an odd heat was building inside her. One she’d never experienced before.

When he only continued to stare at her, she narrowed her eyes, running her gaze from his thick dark hair down his very muscular body. With his hands clasped behind his neck, his expression expectant, he looked relaxed and just the slightest bit amused. But there was a mysterious glint to his blue-green eyes that belied his stress-free exterior. And though he was gorgeous—tall, dark, and handsome in every way with that chiseled jaw, lush lips, and mesmerizing eyes—something in the back of her mind warned her to be careful.

“Where did you come from?” she asked hesitantly. “We both know you weren’t here two seconds ago.”

One side of those perfect lips curled. “I’m sure if you concentrate, you’ll know exactly where I came from, Zakara.”

She didn’t like his riddles. And she didn’t like that he knew her name when she was still struggling to figure out who he was and why he was so familiar. But the longer he stared at her, the warmer she grew. And as his words circled in her head, it suddenly hit her like a baseball bat right to the forehead.

“You’re that guy…” Her eyes grew wide with disbelief. “From my dreams.”

He chuckled—a low, deep, captivating sound that was too perfect to be real. “That I am.”

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Elisabeth Naughton is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. From Elisabeth: “I was never one of those people who knew they wanted to be an author at the age of six. I didn’t have imaginary friends. I didn’t write stories in my journal or entertain my relatives by firelight after Thanksgiving dinner. For the most part, I was just a normal, everyday kid. I liked to read, but I wasn’t exceptional at it. And when my teachers complimented me on my writing abilities, I brushed them off. I did, however, always have a penchant for the unique and absurd. And as my mother told me all throughout my childhood, I should have been an actress—I was a drama queen before my time.

“Years ago, my husband bought me Scarlett: The Sequel to Gone With The Wind. If you ever saw the book, you know it’s a long one. I sat and read that thing from cover to cover, and dreamed of one day being a writer. But I didn’t actually try my hand at writing until years later when I quit my teaching job to stay home with my kids. And my husband? After that week of reading where I neglected him and everything else until I finished Scarlett, he vowed never to buy me another book again. Little did he know I’d one day end up sitting at a keyboard all day drafting my own stories.

“My writing journey has not been easy. I didn’t just sit down one day, decide I was going to write a book and voila! sell my very first attempt. As most authors will probably agree, the path to publication is filled with hours of work, pulling all-nighters I thought I’d given up in college, sacrifices, rejections, but a love I discovered along the way I just can’t live without. Instead of a big, thick book to read by lamplight (I do read much smaller ones when I get the chance), I’ve traded in my reading obsession for a laptop. And I’ve never been happier.

“I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a wonderful family and fabulous husband who put up with my writing—and obsessive personality—even when life is chaotic. More than once my kids have been late to swimming or baseball because I needed just five more minutes to finish a scene. Their support and encouragement mean the world to me. I also have amazing friends and a support network I couldn’t survive without. So to all of you out there who have encouraged me along the way, sent me emails and fan letters, phone calls and congratulations, I just want to say, thank you. You make this whole writing gig that much more enjoyable. I truly wouldn’t be here without you.”

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