Monthly Archives: October 2015
– Light in Darkness, #6: http://amzn.to/1FonVdS
– Blissful Agony, #7: http://amzn.to/1P0Rjkp
Includes: Fate Love, Falling Into Place, Breaking Free, Mending Scars, and Labor of Love: http://amzn.to/1CX1Q7R
Brandy L Rivers is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Her two main series are Others of Edenton and Others of Seattle. She has also written a couple contemporary stories. An avid reader, Brandy has always loved writing. She became serious about it as a stay-at-home-mother. Her secret lair, guarded by a pint-sized pound puppy who imagines himself a hellhound, contains a file full of manuscripts she plans to edit and put out with new creations she is constantly dreaming up. Living in rainy Western Washington with her husband and three kids, Brandy is already working on future stories in each of the series, and several other projects.
“We match.” I try to smile.
He wipes the tears away from under my eyes and holds my face in his hands. “I picked it to match your eyes. I was hoping you would be there.”
“I’ve missed you,” I admit feeling relieved he hasn’t completely given up on me.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He wipes a few more stray tears. I laugh a little, and he smiles. “There’s that smile I love so much. I was watching you all day. You didn’t look at me once.”
“It was so hard.”
“That’s what she said.” He winks, and I let out a real laugh this time.
Behind the Computer is a new standalone that is not part of the BH series. It’s a step outside of my comfort zone, but the story hit me like a ton of bricks so I went with it.
PREORDER: Amazon • Amazon Paperback • Amazon UK
Synopsis: Levi Black is an s.o.b.
Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he’s a pretentious, obnoxious, womanizing jacka** who thinks the world revolves around him.
He wouldn’t be wrong.
A famous soccer player, his skills on and off the field have won him medals, trophies, women, and the cover of every heartthrob magazine in the country. He’s broken nearly every bone in his body and a few hearts along the way, including mine—his stepsister—and lived to tell about it.
One night changed everything, and I’ve avoided him like the plague ever since. Just long enough to finish college, to bury the hurt, and to outrun the memories. But now that’s all changed. I’m back, and there’s no more running.
My hands are supposed to be my livelihood, but now they’re my curse. Levi’s reckless ways have landed him in a sticky situation, and his father has given me an offer I can’t refuse. One month, and all I have to do is put my hands on his body. Easier said than done. The problem is, even though I know it’s bound to bite me in the a**, I can’t bring myself to say no to the s.o.b.
Holy shit. I don’t know if I can do this. Vista is a problem. My problem. Having her here, in my home, is going to change everything.
Who am I kidding? It already has. But it doesn’t have to, a voice in my head whispers.
That’s all I have to get through, and then my life can return to normal. I can go back to pretending she doesn’t exist, doesn’t matter.
One month. I repeat the words in my head until they’re keeping time with the beat of my heart. They’re my new mantra.
Piece of cake.
Now all I have to do is believe the lie.
“Unless you’ve developed an unhealthy attraction to stairs I don’t know about, quit staring into space and get over here, jackass,” Vincent calls out. “I’m not a one man circus. Help me keep these bitches entertained.”
The women gasp as if offended by Vincent’s crassness, but they’re not. They are bitches, and they know it. Hell, they’ve made it an art. It’s what makes them attractive to men—being unattainable.
Except to me.
Being who I am, women like them are a dime a dozen, which grew boring ten minutes ago.
I stare up at the empty staircase for a moment longer before kicking a crutch out behind me and twisting around to join the party with the realization that choking down the lie is going to be damn near impossible.
I can’t ignore the hollow ache in my stomach that’s formed from just seeing her any more than I can ignore the throbbing pulse that’s demanding attention in my jeans.
Vista Marquis thinks a few stairs can keep me from getting to her? Then she doesn’t really know me.
I can obtain anything I want.
I’m Levi-fucking-Black, and just like my father, I make shit happen.
ABOUT J.C. VALENTINE
J.C. Valentine is the USA Today and International bestselling author of the Night Calls and Wayward Fighters Series and the Forbidden Trilogy. Her vivid imagination and love of words and romance had her penning her own romance stories from an early age, which, despite being poorly edited and written longhand, she forced friends and family members to read. No, she isn’t sorry.
J.C. earned her own happily ever after when she married her high school sweetheart. Living in the Northwest, they have three amazing children and far too many pets and spend much of their free time together enjoying movies or the outdoors. Among the many hats she wears, J.C. is an entrepreneur. Having graduated with honors, she holds a Bachelor’s in English and when she isn’t writing, you can find her editing for fellow authors.
Sign up for J.C.’s newsletter and never miss a thing! http://bit.ly/1KxXWWB
You’d ask what kind of psychic I am. Well, I’ll tell you: I’m the shitty kind. I see maybe ten percent of what I should, and I can’t change a fucking second of it. I see what I see, and then I brace because it’s going to happen. There isn’t a thing I can do.
Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s a waste of time, and it weighs too much on my heart.
And on my mind.
Let’s not forget about the tenuous hold I have on sanity. I just thank the universe I live alone now. How many times could I have woken a roommate, looking like a horror movie reject before I booked a one-way ticket to a padded cell? I’ve already lived through one involuntary incarceration under an insane Primary’s thumb; a repeat stay is not in my future.
I’d rather chew a bullet.
Hiding my abilities when under constant surveillance is almost impossible. I’m a Seer, born with the ability to observe things that will come to pass in vivid Technicolor inside my little noggin, hence that lovely dream. I also sometimes randomly electrocute people without meaning to. Well, sometimes I mean to, but not all the time, and that is pretty scary. If people weren’t already looking at me funny before, which they are because as a Seer, my eyes freak people way the fuck out, they would after I zapped the crap out of them randomly.
Then there’s the phasing. As a fledgling, I sometimes transitioned from my resting form to the ethereal without even trying. Meaning, when I got angry or upset, I would burst into flames, and my wings would pop out. I got angry a lot in those days.
Yes, I am a bloodthirsty little thing. No, I don’t have any problem inflicting violence when I deem it necessary. Yes, ‘when I’m pissed’ falls under the necessary column.
Okay, I should explain the eye thing. You see (pun intended) my eyes are a very pale, milky green. All the time. You remember old westerns where the old guy is blind, and he has those freaky eyes where the iris and pupil nearly blend into the sclera? Yep, you guessed it, that’s what’s going on here.
Only I’m not blind.
And I wear contacts when I go outside because if I don’t people assume I’m blind, for one, and their face says they are squicked way the hell out, for numero dos. Also, when I’m pissed they kind of, well, glow.
Like an incandescent bulb, glow.
So the fact I’m not exactly human is really fucking obvious.
Hello, my name is Aurelia Constantine, and I am a Phoenix.
Dᴇsᴇᴄʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ Sᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴ: A Fᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ Rᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ Tʜʀɪʟʟᴇʀ
Author: Lucian Bane
Release Date: October 22, 2015
Genre: Forbidden Romantic Thriller
Buy Link: Amazon: http://amzn.to/1McfFHi
This book contains elements that may be disturbing and offensive. Please read with caution if you are triggered by events depicting violence and various forms of abuse.
On the seventh day of the seventh year… she desecrates.
Evil keeps a formidable schedule in Weston, West Virginia. Every seventh year, spirits from the town’s abandoned insane asylum seek worthy souls to command. But this seventh year, a desecration unlike any before is scheduled to ravage the town. And Solomon Gorge is lured to the harrowing event by the screams of Silence.
Silence focused her mind, bringing the erratic race of her pulse back into her control. Again. She was finally there. In The Hallower. She didn’t permit herself to look about but her peripheral said she’d been wrong about the most holy chamber. The torture devices and horrific tools she’d imagined hanging from the ceiling and walls did not exist.
Six years. She could hardly believe it had passed. Six years as ‘Silence’ ended today. No, six years of silent Contemplation ended today. But it really didn’t end. There would never be a time when she didn’t contemplate what came next. And what would her new name be? She never permitted herself the blasphemy of trying to guess. Today she’d know.
She carefully slid her gaze to the single entrance leading in. A small door made of thick slats of wood, held together by decorative black metal. The entire room was black—walls, ceilings, floor—all a rough stone painted a shiny looking onyx. And empty. Except for the single slab of granite in the shape of a hobbit table where she sat in her ceremonial graduation gown. It reminded her of a wedding dress.
Would Master be the one to usher in the final phase? Her stomach clenched in excitement and she immediately calmed the fleshly rebellion. She secretly hoped he did. She’d never met the Order’s Queen but once, and even then Silence was not permitted to look upon her as an unlearned runt.
Silence was used to Master’s ways, even though all feared him. The Dark Legend of their Order had trained her personally in the most Holy arts of pain and fear. Any fear borne outside of her Master’s care was destructive—that was one of her first lessons. There were good fears and bad. The bad fears were counterproductive to the Order, the good fears protected it. And Holy Fear with pain were gifts she received directly from her Master’s hands. And only her complete submission provided the divine covering required to fulfill her role as the Queen’s chosen Redemptrix.
Her calm insides jolted at the clang of the outer door leading to The Hallower. She faced straight ahead in deferring obedience, eyes cast to the floor. The Hallower door opened next and her peripheral said the entirely nude form was indeed Master. She let out a silent breath of relief.
He shut the door. One metal bolt clanked… then another… then another. Her heart hammered in her ears despite her steady breaths. It was always this way. No matter how practiced she was with Master’s training, her body knew. Muscle memory always braced for sure impact of some sort.
“Sweet Silence,” he said when he stood before her.
She stared at his hardened phallus, leaning to place the customary kiss on the butterfly tattoo wrapping its length. He stopped her with a pointer finger on her forehead.
“Not this time.”
Again Silence braced, mostly in confusion. She didn’t remember a single time when he didn’t require the Butterfly Kiss. She still remembered the day he had the vision to get the tattoo. The butterfly on the phallus symbolized that the lost would be ushered to heaven’s door by the seed of Master. During her Silent Contemplation she’d marveled over his interpretation, glad that he seemed to be getting some of her gifts.
She hoped he got all of them.
“You look beautiful in your graduation gown, Silence.” He stroked that same finger along her face, beginning with her temple. Her mind flashed with past disciplines he’d put her through. There was no part of her body he’d not trained in some way, for some sacred reason.
“Thank you, Master.”
She listened closely to his unsteady breaths, thick with the scent of fermented juice. “Are you nervous?”
The several grunts followed by strained groans told her he was having divine revelations. “Six years of Silence to usher in the final phase.” The withered words came with the glide of his finger over her lips, lingering long enough for her to know what he wanted. But when she parted her lips to suck, he drew it away, bringing another surprise. “Are you ready, little one?”
“Yes, Master.” The bad fears made her breaths shallow as she struggled with old flight or fight instincts.
Why wouldn’t he let her suck it? It was always the not knowing parts that got her, it always was. What he would do each time. He liked surprising her. It had become an unspoken duel between them—her to anticipate, and him to be unpredictable.
A gasp escaped her as she fumbled with the reigns on her control. Master was the one person she would always fear. She was supposed to fear him and only him. Fearing him was allowed, it was good, it was expected, demanded.
Think of the Hallowing Ceremony. Graduating to the next phase. Six years of silence is over.
Sudden terror hit her as she remembered. The dream. The vision for her new name. There had been none.
“So much fear, little one.’His voice croaked with disappointment as he tilted her face up with that same finger, now under her chin. “I am sure you’re eager for your new name.” He began a slow trek to the right of her, his finger gliding off as he went. Silence refused to allow her gaze to stray from straight before her. He’d had the dream? The vision? “I too, am ready to hear it.”
He’d not. Terror raced back in and she swallowed at what this might mean. “There was none.” Her voice rang out with a strength despite the quiver in her gut.
His deep low chuckle behind her, tickled along her spine. “I know,” he whispered, his mouth suddenly at her ear. “Because I was given the dream this time.”
The beat of her heart became a wallop in her chest. Breathe, Silence.
“I’m sure you’re eager to know it?” he said lightly, slowly coming back around on her left now.
“I am excited to learn it.”
“And I’m excited to tell you.” He came to stand exactly before her again. Silence gripped her dress in tight fists as he placed his hands on either side of her head. He pulled her to his phallus, moving his hips side to side lightly. She waited for his direction, knowing not to engage until he communicated firmly. “I had a vision of your new name, little one. A vision of a hand writing on the wall next to my bed.” The tip of his penis stroked errantly over her cheek and lips, meandering and without purpose. “Do you know what it said, sweet angel?”
She shook her head only barely. “No, Master.”
*****ABUSIVE PART BELOW*****
His fingers suddenly bit down in her hair, pulling harder than he’d ever done before. She fought to look him in the eyes the way he always insisted when milking for his essence. But he shoved so far in so quickly and she hadn’t had time to relax her throat, already it burned and hurt.
“Talk to me Silence. One last time before you leave,” he growled, grabbing the hair on top of her head while he pinched her nose shut. “Tell Master how much you will miss him. How you will never forget him. How you will only think of him,” he hissed, pounding his penis harder against her throat.
Silence struggled to give him what he wanted, but her body refused, it always did.
“Tell me!” he ordered between grunts and thick groans.
She tried again. She tried so hard.
His fist shot down and slammed into her forehead. A familiar numb buzzing filled her skull and ears. “Tell me Silence, tell me how much you’ll miss me while you fuck our sacrifice!”
She did it in her mind. She screamed until she had no more breath. She screamed as loud and hard as she could, like he wanted her to, but it came as silence. Something had broken inside her years ago. She couldn’t remember the exact day, she just knew it had. She could no longer scream. It was as though she’d forgotten how or lost the ability. No matter how much he beat her or hurt her body, her mind disconnected from everything and she couldn’t.
She could feel the pain but she was trapped in silence. Just like her name.
:::Other Books By Lucian Bane:::
Mercy: A Dark Erotica:
No Mercy: A Darker Continuation:
Beg For Mercy: A Dark Conclusion
TBR Link: http://goo.gl/1MLxm5
Dom Wars Box Set Round 1,2 &3
Dom Wars Box Set Round 4,5 & 6
WHITE KNIGHT DOM ACADEMY
WHITE KNIGHT DOM ACADEMY 1ST SEMESTER
Paranormal romance series
Box Set Ruin (first 3 books)
RUIN The Waking:
RUIN The Judgment
RUIN The Turning
Goodreads link- http://bit.ly/1xZsIBy
Arks of Octava
The Scribbler Guardian
Join Lucian’s Dark Erotica Group here
Synopsis: For the last year, Emma Owens has been quietly detached from everything and everyone. Desperate to escape the demons that chased her out of her hometown, she’s learned that life here in Milwaukee is just less complicated and less tragic when it’s a one-woman show.
In the span of one week, everything about her carefully orchestrated solitude comes crashing down. Then again, she can’t really ignore the scratching coming from her patio door or the hungry, pleading grey eyes reflecting in the moonlight. Those four little white paws and that tiger-striped fur thaws some of the ice keeping her heart on lockdown and she’s attached before she knows what hits her.
Emma doesn’t have any better luck ignoring another pair of eyes, and her new neighbor, Finn Matthews, with his shy persistence and a painful past of his own, slowly chips away at the rest of the ice trapping Emma in her insecurities and her loneliness.
Taking a chance on her new roommate and her next-door neighbor opens a door she’d previously slammed shut: the door to a new lease on life and the right to forgive, to fight back, and to heal.
And the craziest part about it?
It all started with a stray cat.
She was lost…and he found her.
**Finding Emma is a full-length, standalone contemporary romance. Due to language and some sexual situations, this book is not intended for readers under 18**
About K. Ryan
K. Ryan is a former English teacher, who graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point in 2009. In between ‘real life’ duties, she’s been writing the Carry Your Heart series quietly on the side for the last two years. When not writing, she’s either binge-watching something on Netflix, running, reading, or cheering on the Packers. She lives in the Green Bay area with her crazy-supportive boyfriend and the best decision of her adult life, a not-so-stray cat named Oliver.
“Dark, perverse, and unbearably erotic, Pretty When You Cry is Skye Warren at her gritty best.”
~ Anna Zaires, USA Today bestselling author of Twist Me
A new dark romance novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Wanderlust and Prisoner…
I came from a place of dirt floors and holy scriptures. They told me the world outside was full of sin, and the first night I escape, I find out it’s true. Ivan saves me, but he does more than that. He takes me. He makes me his own girl.
My conditioning runs too deep. Ivan sees what I am.
That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.
“Candace,” he says in the same deep voice of my dream.
And there’s a look in his eyes, the same look Leader Allen gives Mama. The same look he started giving me. That look is the reason Mama sent me away.
“You’ll stay here,” he says softly. “I don’t want you to dance, but you can stay.”
The allure of it beats through me, a heart of its own, thumping away to a dream that isn’t mine. Safety. Home. I want those things, but I want freedom more. I want the flash of lights and of skin. I want the power those women had onstage.
Ivan wants to put me in a cage, but what I really want is to fly.
“Okay,” I lie, because one sin becomes many. Leader Allen taught me that, and he was right. I’ll convince Ivan, though. One day I’ll dance on that stage, and Ivan will watch me.
One day he’ll teach me everything there is to know.
The praise washes over me, undeserved and darkly pleasurable, a stroke along my spine. It feels good, but I know what it is. A trap. A chain around my ankle to keep me on the ground. In this moment, it locks me so tight that I’d accept anything he did to me. If he were to touch me the way the woman with the kind eyes meant. The way Leader Allen touches Mama during prayer.
Ivan leans down, and I hold my breath. Large hands take hold of the blanket, lift slightly. I feel everything between us—anticipation and denial, lust and fear corded together. We feel them together, breathe them in through the air, pulse them with each beat of our hearts. It’s a kind of knowledge, this feeling, connecting a thousand nerve points to the core of my body. This is what he meant by teaching me. This and so much more.
Then he pulls the blanket higher, tucking it around me. “Good night,” he says, eyes glittering in the dark.
He is silver and light, made even brighter by the shadows behind him. It’s strange, the disappointment I feel that he isn’t going to touch me. He isn’t going to teach me. Not tonight. “Good night,” I whisper back.
Then he’s gone, shutting the door against the dark, locking me in. And I slide away into sleep, without dreams, without color, with only the shameless black of contentedness, knowing I am safe for the night.
Other books in the series
Tough Love (Stripped #0.5)
Love the way you Lie (Stripped #1)
Better when it Hurts (Stripped #2)
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance such as Wanderlust and Prisoner. Praised as a “true mistress of dark erotica”, her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Houston, Texas, with her loving family, three dogs, and one evil cat.