Cover Reveal! One More Breath, The Briar Rose series #1 by Delaney Williams

Release Date: February 21, 2015

Ander has spent his entire life trying to forget his past indescretions. He owns the best tattoo shop in town and works himself the the bone. Hen ever lefts anyone, even co-workers, near him.

So when small, scarred, shy, and broken Leire comes into his shop and requests his work, it begins to feel like fate may have interviened, 

Can these two broken souls help heal each other?

Can Ander and Leire endure even more heartbreak and come out stronger and together? 

Will they get one more breathe and will it be for these two lover?

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, or the calm after a big storm, when the world seems new and fresh, when one can feel the rightness of the world falling into place, I forget. This is my favorite time; this is the point between old and new and the fresh and used. It is that point when I can pretend that I too am fresh and new. I can stand in the rain and shower off the old me, shedding it like the skin of a snake; with it goes the terrors and pain and I am left fresh. For a time. Then, I look down and see the scars, feel the terror and smell the fear. Yes, fear has a smell, a very distinct, very real smell. I am sure it is a different smell for everyone; for me it is lemons, coppery lemons. The fear I smell the most though is one that brings most peace. And the sounds, oh the sounds that come screaming back into my head. They don’t leave. They never leave. They come screaming back, fast and furious, like a Japanese bullet train. Always on course, always on time. They crush me with the weight of the fear they bring with them. I have to escape. I need release; it is why I run in these early hours, in the rain and storms that other people stay out of.

I dress in my running gear and open myself up to the cathartic release I get from lacing up my shoes and I step out the door. I know I can’t out run my past. I know I cannot escape the fears and pain, or erase the scars, but I can forget for a time. I can find that release. With each pounding footstep I feel calmer. I feel the terrors of my dreams fade and I can see the new day rising. What was done was done, I cannot change that. I am a new person now. New face, new name, new life. The run clears my mind and as I reach the end, the clearing of Aspens, with leaves now turning, looking golden and on fire in the early morning sun; I feel renewed. I love these mountains and their glorious, ever-changing beauty. The trees can be at once skeletal remains and yet grow, not giving in to nature, to become the beautiful fireballs before me, an amazing creation I am currently standing in awe of. Proof that life goes on; it continues. The world turns, the sun rises and sets and no one will remember what once was. Out of breath and energy, I lay down in the meadow and watch the sun continue its rise, preparing myself for another day. A day spent hiding myself yet being the most free I have ever been at the same time. Today, I start again...

I am a College English teacher who lives by her own rules. I am a tattoo addict and love writing and reading, the sexier the better. What can I say... For people who think men are the ones who think about sex the most, I say they are living in a dream.... Welcome to my dream world.

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Book Blitz: Excerpt & Giveaway! Eyes Unveiled, Unveiled Series #1 Crystal Walton

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Twenty-one-year-old Emma Matthews lost the song in her heart the same night she lost her dad. With an unfulfilled promise and an ultimatum shadowing her junior year of college, maybe it’s better that way. You can’t hurt if you can’t feel.

But when the reflection she sees in musician Riley Preston’s eyes borders dangerously close to the one she’s spent the last five years searching for, Emma discovers her walls can’t guard her heart from its fiercest desire. Terrified of what she’s experiencing, and even more afraid of what she might lose, Emma grapples for the courage to hold on to one dream without abandoning the promise of another.

Contemporary New Adult Romance novel Eyes Unveiled lets you relive those heartfelt moments when you don’t know how you’d survive a day without your best friend, when you’re trying to figure out who you are and what you’re supposed to do with your life, and when falling in love changes everything.

Music. Friendship. Self-discovery. Hope. Purpose. Identity. Within this inspirational love story, you’ll find you have a song of your own to share.

If I kept moving, maybe the uneasiness spiraling in my stomach would dissipate.

Wouldn’t be that lucky. An awkward silence lingered the moment Trevor’s Outlander gunned away from the curb.

“Do you go to Nuts and Jolts often?” A. J. asked.

The tread on my sneakers skidded against the sidewalk about as smoothly as my thoughts skidded into each other. “Not really. I’m not a big coffee drinker, but the shop’s atmosphere is cool, especially on Friday nights.”

“Nothing beats live music.” He kept his face forward, but the shadow of a furtive grin fell on me. “My car is that Acura ZDX over there.”

Was I supposed to be impressed?

In the car, he angled toward me right as he turned the key in the ignition, about to say something. Bass pulsated through the speakers. He reached for the controls, accidentally turned up the volume before turning it off altogether, and laughed. “How’s that for smooth? Sorry. I don’t usually have other people in the car with me.”

His brief flicker of embarrassment disappeared in seconds, along with the college entrance behind us. “So, you like live music. Do you play any instruments?”

I ran my fingers over my seatbelt. “I play the guitar a little, but I’m not very good.”

“I bet you’re better than you’re admitting.”

“What makes you so sure?” The question ended more in a snort than a question mark.

“I’ve seen you around campus. Off by yourself, playing where no one can hear you.”

My jaw dropped halfway open. Had people on campus actually been watching me?

“The way you glow when you play, you have to be enjoying it. So, it can’t be that bad.”

Heat swept up my neck. “Wait a sec. You just asked me if I played, but you already knew.” Start talking, buddy.

“Trevor warned me you were a little shy about it. I wanted to see how open you’d be with me.” He stole another glimpse across the car. “You blush easily. I’ll have to remember that.”

The charm trailing his words fueled my growing debate over which type of guy he was. Ladies’ Man, up one point.

“With all your time spent trying to make girls blush, do you ever actually study for classes, or is the whole academic scene kind of overrated for you?”

He laughed. “Just because I’ve noticed one girl on campus doesn’t mean I’ve noticed any others.”

Right. And Ladies’ Man takes the lead.

Amidst multiple moves up and down the east coast, Crystal received her bachelor of arts from Messiah College in PA, married her exact opposite in upstate NY, and earned her master of arts from Regent University in VA, where she currently resides with her husband. Crystal writes contemporary new adult fiction fueled by venti green teas from Starbucks. 

When not working her accounting day job, she's delving into the wonder of words, supporting her Starbucks habit, or laughing over movie quotes & singing eighties songs with her husband.

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Book Blitz: Excerpt & Giveaway! My Soon-To-Be Sex Life by JudithTewes

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Charlie is down to her absolute. Total. Last. Resort.

Despite a thoroughly comprehensive list of potential cherry poppers, er…suitors, and careful plotting, Charlie is three weeks into her devirginization campaign, still untouched, and getting desperate. In the movie of her life, this aspiring screenwriter is giving herself a PG, for please, get some.

Her project goes into freeze frame when her mom checks herself into rehab and packs Charlie off to live with her estranged, or just plain strange, grandfather, Monty. How is she supposed to get a date when she has to go pick up his Depends?

Enter Eric, a hot rehab grad on the road to redemption, and the only one who can make Charlie rethink her strategy. The more she gets to know him, the more convinced she becomes that is the one, and not just another to add to the list of people who will abandon her.

In this hilarious and heartbreaking story of one girl’s detoured road to womanhood, Charlie’s list develops a life of its own – right when she realizes there’s so much more to lose.

“What’s up?” I leaned over the front seat, turned down the radio, and checked the

time on the dashboard. “It’s only nine fifty. You said I could stay out till ten.” The curfew

was yet another way my mother attempted to de-stress her life and wreak havoc with

mine. She didn’t like having to worry about me staying out late, parting with friends, and

being out on the streets in the wee morning hours. Since Dad died, she’d become hyper

vigilant, pulling double duty in the parenting department. It was maddening. I mean, even

Cinderella had until midnight.

But in this instance, I was kind of relieved to have an excuse to bail. Not that I was chickening out. But the backseat? I could do better.

Ty tugged at a belt loop on my jeans. “Are you wearing a thong?” he whispered. He tugged harder. “Standard white cotton.”

I smacked his hand, plunked down into the seat.

“You have eight minutes,” Mom said. “If I don’t see Gribbons’ sorry excuse for a

truck pulling into our driveway…”

Another failed attempt, but it wasn’t disappointment that made it easier to breathe

as Ty revved the engine and fishtailed down the back road, skiffs of snow billowing in our wake.

I thought about the many books on screenwriting I’d borrowed from the public

library over the last year, the ones I practically inhaled in order to teach myself to write scripts. Great scripts that might just get me out of this town someday.

They all talked about it. The inciting incident. The one thing that changes the

main character’s life has to happen in the first few minutes and yet here I was three weeks into focused, plotted, storyboarded dating – and I was still a virgin.

Life really was stranger than fiction. 

You couldn’t make this shit up.

Judith Tewes - author and screenwriter - resides in small town northern Alberta, where she: writes, sings, plays bass guitar in an all-woman band, walks her three crazy labs, and suspects she's living the life of a superhero's alias. Her edgy, contemporary young adult fiction is full of heart with a side of snark. 

She also writes paranormal YA under the pen name, Judith Graves.

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Book Promo: Excerpt & Giveaway! Restraint, Mistress & Master of Restraint by Erica Chilson

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I am Katya Waters.

A survivor of violence.

I fought death and won.

So why do I feel so dead inside?

Katya Waters is a small-town girl, mentally unprepared to deal with her deep, dark past. While walking in her sanctuary, her innocence was torn from her in the most brutal fashion- run to the ground as if she were an animal by a pack of vicious Hunters. After they wounded her spirit, they left her for dead. 

How does one overcome a debilitating, tragic event? By strength, perseverance, and an unrelenting will to survive. 

Out of desire, Katya no longer wanted to be the hunted. She hungered to be the hunter. 

Finally taking her life into her own hands, Katya reached for what she’d earned, for the respect every human being so rightfully deserves.

By moving to a new city for the job of her dreams, Katya unwittingly brought her past nightmares to life, slowly drawing the repressed, dark memories into the light. With a deep desire to explore her true nature, Katya entered the BDSM Club, Restraint; never realizing there would be no escape from her secrets within the club’s walls. Katya’s entire existence turned into a living, breathing, never-ending therapy session from Hell.

The Boss pulled Katya into a thrilling game of Kat & Mouse as a way to force Katya to accept the truth of her past. Follow Katya’s heartbreaking journey as she connected the mystery of her past with her thrilling present.

… As long as I have a tomorrow, I can endure today.

Prologue

My feet pound the ground with such force it reverberates up my legs and trails up my spine. The sharp snap of twigs breaking under the impact echoes in my ears, along with the deafening tattoo of my panicked heart. My terror-filled breath saws out my lips, exhale clouding the air across my face as I run–

Run for my life.

A looming pine tree is a taunting, solid barrier, directly in my path of escape. Precious life-saving seconds are lost as I veer around the tree, or else risk smacking headlong into it. Upheaved from the ground, gnarled roots catch my toes and upend my balance. I catch my fall with outstretched palms upon the pine-needle-laden ground, bruising and tearing my flesh. With a forceful lunge, I propel myself forward to gain momentum.

Droplets of blood nourish the soil from deep cuts welling on my hands. Branches slash my cheeks and thorny vines snag my skin and clothing, almost as if they are offering aid to my hunters. My mind is clear of all thought, except for the inborn flight reflex of someone desperate to survive.

Self-preservation forces my muscles to maintain their wild run, even as my body protests the movement with bloody and bruised, burning limbs. My hands instinctively rise and fall, protecting me from the brutal violence of nature.

Four hunters stalk me as if I were a wounded animal– their prey. They gain on me steadily, even if their visages are blurry to my tear-stung eyes. With rapid movements too quick for me to register, they converge, charging me from different directions– herding me, running me to ground as a pack.

Territorial rage explodes through the simmering fear in my blood. As their target, not only am I being assaulted, my sanctuary is being violated right alongside me. I’ve hiked this wooded lakeside trail since I was a child. When I was small, I’d venture out farther, creating a larger boundary of my own backyard. As an adult, the lake and the wooded trail surrounding it, are my home. We’re being invaded, and I’m powerless to stop it.

I know every dip, curve, and incline of the landscape. Up until just moments ago, this was where I went to clear my mind and seek solitude. Childlike dreams of the future were forged here, right alongside the adult decision of what my college major would be. My bubble of safety, the trust I have in my land to protect me, and the courage I have to protect it in return, bursts on the whims of ruthless men.

Now, I run for my life, hoping my lifelong knowledge of the landscape will pull me through to the other side– safety.

In tune, somehow connected as pack animals, they hunt in perfect synchronization: breathing in harmony, legs moving with the same graceful fluidity, intuitively knowing where to head me off to push me towards their partners and propel me to their destination.

If it weren’t me versus them, I may have found their symmetry breathtakingly beautiful.

I speed up on the descent down a steep ravine, drawing me closer to the lake and its imminent comfort. My sneakers skid on soft dirt, pebbles rolling me, making it nearly impossible to stay upright. I catch my fall several times by sightlessly grabbing for roots and branches. Thorns jab into my flesh with my hold, only to tear my skin as I pull away. I acknowledge no pain from my wounded palms as they rapidly beat with the pounding of my heart. Falling backwards, head hitting a rock with a great, jarring force, I fear I’ll be rendered unconscious, unable to protect myself. Inertia has other plans for me, causing me to slide down the embankment on my rear while I regain my senses. By the time I reach the bottom, my shorts are shredded by the earth and damp from the blood seeping from the resulting wounds.

Rolling to a stop, I crawl to all fours. In shock, I barely wince as the jagged edges of river rock and the grit of ballast from the long-ago railroad bed embed into my knees and palms. I try to right myself on stable ground, but my energy is waning. Agile footfalls catch my notice, driving fear and adrenaline to flood my system, fortifying my survival instincts. With a deep, pain-filled keen, I propel myself to my feet, and take off towards safety.

They allow me no rest as they close in from all sides, like the shadow of darkness creeping across the land every sunset– sure and swift, and unavoidable. They try to pull me off course by rerouting me with their movements. Driving me like an animal, they prove their adept hunting skills by forcing me off the hiking trail. Separating me from any other hikers we may encounter, from the safety of the known, I’m now parallel to the path, going away from it at an abrupt angle. The one in charge is wordlessly maneuvering me to his destination, and I am powerless to stop it.

The primal, animalistic side of my brain already recognizes its capture. I can see it playing out in my mind’s eye: the four hunters felling my body, tearing into me like lions on a fresh kill, stripping my dignity away along with the last vestiges of my cherished innocence. My system floods with adrenaline. A vicious quaking rocks my entire body, slowing my pace. I shiver in the cold of impending doom, even as my body erupts with a feverish sweat.

My logical brain, the part of me that holds self-preservation above all else, overpowers my fears. From my depths, I scream, “I will not give up! Never surrender!” I will fight to my very death just so I can wear my pride as a badge of honor in the afterlife. Furiously, my mind spins escape routes and defense plans as I am led, pushed, and driven by the unit.

My only salvation is the lake. If I can get to the water, I can swim to safety. Like the trail, I know everything about the lake: the inlets, the currents, and the boat-tied docks. As a balm to my soul, I can feel the caress of its chilled water welcoming me into its promise of safety and comfort. The tree canopy overhead casts rays of light for my path. The crystalline waters glisten invitingly, beckoning me towards its secure embrace.

Half in the now, half inside my fantasy of escape, I’m taken aback when the leader comes into sharp focus just off to my right. I stumble when I see the fierce expression on his face, the look of triumph as he gains on his prize.

“It won’t be long, boys,” his smug voice projects, filling the woods with his victory. The shrill cadence of his voice sounds like broken glass to my sensitive ears.

In a futile dance of survival, I go left, and then right. Left, and then right, panting wildly as I look for a hole in their defenses. My injured foot slips on a patch of moss, situating the leader within easy reach of my bleeding arms. In a pitiful, last ditch effort, I veer to the left, away from his grasp, only to miscalculate the trajectory of the other hunters.

Arms enclose me from the side. Startled, yet not surprised by the inevitable, I close my eyes in defeat. “I’m so sorry,” a young, somber voice whispers softly against my hair.

Erica Chilson does not write in the 3rd person, wanting her readers to be her characters. Therefore, writing a bio about herself, is uncomfortable in the extreme

Born, raised, and here to stay, the Wicked Writer is a stump-jumper, a ridge-runner. Hailing from North Central Pennsylvania, directly on the New York State border; she loves the changes in seasons, the humid air, all the mountainous forest, and the gloomy atmosphere.

Introverted, but not socially awkward, Erica prides herself on thinking first and filtering her speech. There are days she doesn’t speak at all. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives with her parents, giving her a sense of reality, she would be a hermit, where the delivery man finds her months after expiration.

Reading was an escape, a way to leave a not-so pleasant reality behind. Reading lent Erica the courage she gathered from the characters between the pages to long for a different life. Writing was an instrument of change, evolving Erica into the woman she is today- a better, more mature, more at peace thinker.

Erica has a wicked mind, one she pours out into her creations. Her filter doesn’t allow all of it to erupt, much to her relief. Sarcastic, with a very dark, perverse sense of humor, Erica puts a bit of herself into every character she writes.

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Book Blitz & Giveaway! Exaltation by Jamie Magee

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Fate is a twisted b*$#@, at least his was.

Was one soul worth the lives of millions? The quandary was one that Rydell King had no choice but to face. No matter the answer, the truth remained—innocence was created to destroy him. She was beautiful…extinguishing her to save his people seemed impossible, and maybe it was. As an immortal, his focus was to destroy the curse upon his people, as he devoured the emotion that bore him—exaltation, no matter the cost. She made him question everything. 

Mercy had never been crueler.

Jamie Magee has always believed that each of us have a defining gift that sets us apart from the rest of the world, she has always envied those who have known from their first breath what their gift was. Not knowing hers, she began a career in the fast paced world of business. Raising a young family, and competing to rise higher in that field would drive some to the point of insanity, but she always found a moment of escape in a passing daydream. Her imagination would take her to places she’d never been, introduce her to people she’s never known. Insight, her debuting novel, is a result of that powerful imagination. Today, she is grateful that not knowing what defined her, led her on a path of discovery that would always be a part of her.

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Cover Reveal & Giveaway! Death Of The Spirit, Crossing Death #1 by Rick Chiantaretto

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Genre: Dark Fantasy, Occult, Suspense

Release Date: March 13, 2015

I have no idea who I am anymore.

In Los Angeles, I would have given anything to go home to Orenda, my world where magic was alive and nature spoke to me. Now that I'm back I feel out of place, burdened with responsibility. The human part of me misses the simplicity of Earth, the mage part begs for connection with magic, and the demon part? I don't want to admit that exists.

As the darkness inside me grows, I’ll learn to sacrifice for the greater good, as my people have always done. In order to save my family (both mage and human alike), I must face my nightmare, embrace the demon, and descend into the shadowy world of my enemy—the Hell of the Damned.

Once there, I will have nothing left to fear but myself: Edmund Gavel, human, mage, demon... maybe monster.

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I've often been accused of having done more in my life than the average person my age, but if I were completely honest I'd have to tell you my secret: I'm really 392.

So after all this time, I'm a pretty crappy writer.

I have some books published and a bunch half written (when you have eternity, where's the reason to rush?). I've been favorably reviewed by horror greats like Nancy Kilpatrick, and my how-to-write-horror articles have been quoted in scholarly (aka community college freshmen's) papers.

I enjoy the occasional Bloody Mary, although a Bloody Kathy or Susan will suffice.

Mostly, I just try to keep a low profile so people don't figure out who I REALLY am.

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