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Friday, December 11, 2015

Passion Bites by Mary Hughes





Passion Bites
Biting Love 9
Author: Mary Hughes
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: December 8, 2015
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Print Length: 290 pages








PASSION BITES by Mary Hughes combines a light, humorous and action-filled plot with red-hot romance. Luke Steel never knew a woman shaking her finger under his nose could be so sexy but when this broken vampire and a driven doctor are seized by a passion neither can afford, they set in motion a chain of events that could prove dangerous to both of them. Readers of SCROOGE ME HARD by Milly Taiden or THE PROFESSOR WOOS THE WITCH by Kristen Painter will love the ninth installment in the Biting Love series.




Passion Bites Synopsis:

Dr. Alexis Byornsson has her hands full in the ER when her patient’s uncle blows into the exam room. Stitching up a five-year-old’s cut is hard enough without a blond god distracting her all to hell.
To say she’s furious is putting it mildly—not that anyone would notice. Not with the legendary control that’s earned her the nickname “Dr. Frozen”.
Luke Steel never knew a woman chastising him could be so sexy. But for the first time in three hundred years, passion stirs in his gut—along with panic. Since his wife was taken before his eyes in a brutal attack, he’s sworn he’d never feel that powerless again.
Almost before either Luke or Alexis realize what’s happening, they’re sharing a blazing kiss that shatters her logical armor and unleashes his wholly unwanted mating instinct. And spurs a closer-than-skin enemy to put into motion a devastating plan for revenge.
Warning: This book contains a hot doctor and a hotter vampire messing up sterile surfaces. The usual rogue shenanigans, but this time covering deeper motives. Hang on to your stethoscopes at what’s revealed!
Available at:


   
Excerpt:
A click interrupted me, the door opening.

“Sorry I’m late. Logan had instructions for me. I’m Luke.”

The deep male voice following the click flowed into my ears like smooth whiskey down a parched throat after a long, long day.

I admit I was expecting a sleazy drunkard of an “uncle”. But what I got was Blond God Part II and hey, the sequel was better than the original.

“How’re you doing, tiger?” His attention was all for the girl.

Good thing, because I was in no shape to respond, at least not with words. My own eyes ah-oo-gahed, and my tongue fell out of my head, landing on the floor with a flat splat. Not really, but my reaction wasn’t doctorly dignified in the least.

I know that because, in my periphery, Battle openly snickered.

Luke was a tall angel of a man, gliding to the exam table with the grace of a tiger. He passed me, revealing a bright blond braid lining the middle of an extremely well-developed back, braid tail tickling his tight butt.

Yeah, my eyes leaped out of my head at that, trying to follow him.

He glanced over his muscular shoulder at me. Chiseled cheek, sweeping lashes, gorgeous, gold-flecked hazel eyes—burnished by old deep pain.

Angel yes, but a tortured angel.

I was immediately torn, the woman half of me wanting to melt into a puddle of massage oil to sheen his golden skin, and the doctor half wanting to heal him—or maybe that was the woman half too, because healing suddenly meant smashing his head into my considerable bosom and comforting the hell out of whatever ailed him.

Luke’s eyes, on me, widened for a split second. Then he abruptly turned away.
Seeing my attraction and rejecting it.

That stung. I’m not as beautiful as my younger sister, but I’m not dog barf.

Then he said, “This woman taking good care of you, tiger?”

The doubt in his voice stung more. I’m a damned good doctor, and I always take the best possible care of my patient.

My spine snapped straight. “I have over a decade’s experience in emergency room medicine. Only a surgeon could do better.” Professionalese for “shut the fuck up”.

“Then maybe we should get a surgeon.” Luke turned a hard stare on me.

I stalked up to him to give him a good eye-to-eye glare in return, but it backfired—at five-nine I’m not small, but he had at least six inches on me. His intense gaze would’ve awled through my skull if I hadn’t already experienced medical peer reviews. I could take scrutiny, even the ant-burning kind. I upped the ante and lasered back.

Mistake. It was like challenging a wolf. Hazel eyes narrowed and kindled to red-gold. My cool wavered. A prickle of perspiration ran down my nape when lengthening canines peeked from between his lips.

Vampire. 


  
About Mary Hughes:
As a girl, Mary Hughes spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to get to sleep. A husband, family, two degrees and a blackbelt later, she's delighted to spin them for readers.

She's lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.

So join her for action, sparkling wit and red-hot love. Strong men. Stronger women.

Connect with Mary: Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Pinterest | Amazon


Enter to win great prizes!
5 grand prize winners will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card.
5 runner-ups will receive an eBook of choice from Mary’s backlist!







Monday, December 7, 2015

The Deepest Blue by Christina Lee





Author: Christina Lee
Title: The Deepest Blue
Series: Roadmap to Your Heart #2 
(can be read as a standalone)
Publisher:  Self Published
Release Date:  12-4-15
Genre:  Male/Male
Heat Level: 4
Pairing: Male/Male
Book/Buy Links: Goodreads | Amazon | iBooks | B&N





Book Blurb

Lee exchanges skyline for swampland in the next book of her male/male romance series, Roadmap to Your Heart.

Rugged and conventional Callum Montgomery enjoys running Shady Pines hunting preserve, except for the secret that’s eating him alive. When his sister brings a date for a family wedding, he can’t stand the arrogant city slicker with the stick up his perfectly fine ass. He doesn’t understand his draw to Dean, who pushes his buttons at every turn, but he’d never dream of betraying his sibling over some lust fueled fantasy.

Handsome and conscientious Dean Abbott is a research assistant in his university’s biology lab. When his roommate, Cassie, begs him to be her pretend date in front of her meddling family, he begrudgingly agrees to help. He doesn’t anticipate being enchanted by the countryside, the colorful cast of characters, or her sexy and brooding straight brother.

When contempt turns to passion and leads to stolen moments in a sugar cane field, Callum can’t help longing for the kind of connection he believes he can never have. But not even the world’s most heart-melting kiss can bridge the vast philosophical differences between the men.

Dean’s return to his urban lifestyle leaves him restless, his mind continually wandering to the charming setting that spoke to something missing deep inside him. Because you can take the city boy out of the country but you can’t make him forget the intriguing man he left behind.

Excerpt

“Isn’t there some law about killing snakes in this state?” I heard our company say. Even out of the corner of my eye I could see that the guy was one of them pretty city boys. He was walking beside my sister, Cassie, who was busy filling him in on rattler containment on personal property. He must’ve been the guest she’d mentioned bringing.

Did he need to be that handsome? Too bad he had to go and open his mouth.

 “We can always walk away,” I said. I didn’t dare take my eye off the rattlesnake for a second time. “But that leaves you out here with no protection.”

I heard him gulp at the same time Grammy snickered. “Sounds like our Cassie might’ve brought home some tree hugger.”

Grammy gripped the heavy rock in her fingers, ready to bash the rattler’s skull at a moment’s notice.

“They say when a rattler strikes, your blood turns to fire. Like the venom is boiling away in your veins,” I said and I could hear whatshisname’s breathing change. “You’ve got about a ninety-minute window of time before the poison spreads.”

“And then what happens?” he asked, and I could just imagine his pulse throbbing in his neck. I heard his one foot scrape across the other as if rubbing some imaginary dirt from his spotless shoes. Either that or it was some nervous tick.

 I shrugged. “Then you’re dead.”

“Callum. Knock it off,” Cassie said and I could hear the tightness in her voice. It pained me that we hadn’t been in touch for a long while and I certainly didn’t want to piss her off even further.

The snake retreated toward its hiding spot and disappeared without a second glance at the mouse. Damn.

Now I looked our new guest square in the face while my irritation bubbled over. Grammy had banked on making a fresh batch today. Lately I left the hunting to my brother, Braden, but he had a full plate, so I agreed to be a stand-in. “You Cassie’s date for the wedding?”

 “That’s right. I, uh, attend the same college,” he said and I couldn’t help my gaze from snagging on the deepest set of blue eyes. Not quite as dark as that tangle of hair that swept in a high arc away from his forehead. Wearing a pair of fancy designer jeans that showed off his trim form, he was smaller than me, but most guys were. And now I felt shitty for checking out my sister’s guest. “The name’s Dean Abbott.”



Author Bio

Once upon a time, I lived in New York City and was a wardrobe stylist. I spent my days shopping for photo shoots, getting into cabs, eating amazing food, and drinking coffee at my favorite hangouts.

Now I live in the Midwest with my husband and son—my two favorite guys. I've been a clinical social worker and a special education teacher. But it wasn't until I wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper that I realized I could turn the fairytales inside my head into the reality of writing fiction. 

I'm addicted to lip gloss and salted caramel everything. I believes in true love and kissing, so writing romance novels has become a dream job. 

I write Adult, New Adult, and M/M romance.  I also own a hand-stamped jewelry business, which requires me to stamp letters and/or words onto pieces of silver. They go hand-in-hand perfectly.




GIVEAWAY
A $10 gift card to your favorite ebook retailer: Amazon, iBooks, or B&N








Monday, November 23, 2015

Will & Patrick Do the Holidays by Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths


     
Author: Leta Blake & Alice Griffiths
Title:  Will & Patrick Do the Holidays
Series Title and Number: Wake Up Married, Episode 3
Publisher:  Leta Blake Books
Release Date:  November 23, 2015
Genre:  Romantic Comedy M/M Romance
Tags:  gay, woke up married, tropes, rom-com, mafia, forced marriage, disabled heroes
Heat Level: 5!!!! Super hot!!
Pairing: M/M
Length: 117 Pages
Book/Buy Links: Goodreads |



Book Blurb

Follow Will & Patrick as they do the holidays in this third installment of the romantic-comedy serial, Wake Up Married, by best-selling author Leta Blake and newcomer Alice Griffiths!

A couple’s first holiday season is always a special time. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve are magical when you’re in love. Too bad Will and Patrick’s marriage is a sham and they’re only faking their affection for each other. Or are they?

Sparks fly in this episode of the Wake Up Married serial. Will the sexual tension between Will and Patrick finally explode in a needy night of passion? Or will they continue to deny their feelings?

Episode 3 of 6 in the Wake Up Married serial.



Excerpt
“Ah, the acrid smell of insulin in the morning.” Patrick’s voice is still gravelly from sleep as he turns on the shower and pulls down his black boxer-briefs revealing his tight ass.

Will looks quickly away and back to the syringe he’s filling by the bathroom sink. “I can never get the last dose to eject from the insulin pens. I always have to pull it out with a needle.”

“After living with you, I have an entire list of ways they can improve insulin pen injectors.”

“I should have my lawyer queue up an appointment for you with the pharmaceutical company.”

“You do that, puddin’-pop, and I’ll be there with a PowerPoint presentation. It’ll consist of four words over and over. ‘Do your damn job.’ If pushed, I might throw in a ‘Don’t make me do it for you’ as a closing argument.”

Will pinches a bit of fat from his abdomen and sticks himself quickly. He’s done this for years, but he never stops hating it. Especially syringes. They’re somehow worse than the insulin pens. “I’ll ask Owen to make that happen.”

Patrick snorts from behind the curtain. Will glances over and heat floods his gut as he notices the shadow outline of Patrick’s morning wood. “Oh, um, let me just—” He hustles to deal with the used needle and ends up dropping the syringe in the sink. The scent of insulin grows stronger. “Why does it smell like Band-Aids?” Will muses as he finally gets rid of the used needle and cleans up the syringe, tossing the now-empty insulin pen.

“It’s the preservative. Meta-cresol,” Patrick says. “Mmm, so clinical. So sexy.”

“And you’re so weird.”

“Nothing like the smell of a hospital to get my motor running.”

Will glances back at Patrick’s shadow behind the shower curtain. He’s still got a half chub flopping around as he washes his hair. Will clears his throat.

“Have you considered an insulin pump?” Patrick asks.

Will tries to drag his mind from Patrick’s erection. “I don’t want one.”

“Because?”

“I don’t like the idea of having something attached to me. All the time. Something I have to rely on to do its job.”

“You trust insulin pens have the right dosage, that the dial works, that they’re—“

“I know, Patrick. But I have the right to my own preferences when it comes to my medical treatment.”

“Fair enough. So what’s the deal with your daddy?” Patrick asks sans segue.

“What are you talking about?” Will packs up his testing kit and uses a black marker he keeps in his murse to make a dot on the back of his left hand. He can’t forget to drop by the pharmacy and pick up his replacement insulin pens.

“Papa Molinaro. What’s the deal with him and the holidays? He wasn’t around for Thanksgiving. Will he be dropping down the chimney on Christmas Eve with a bag full of presents for you and a nice hard dick for your mommy? Or what?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Thanks for that image.”

“You’re welcome.”

“He spends Christmas with his daughters. Or at least he used to. I don’t keep in touch with him.”

“Ah, the half siblings you’ve never met. So, no Christmas phone call from Papa?”

“No.” Will feels the familiar hot, impatient squirm of nastiness in his gut. Conversations about his father usually bring it on.

“No Christmas card stuffed with cash?”

“No card, no text, no Skype, no email.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“He’s obsessed enough with you to have you followed by mobster spies but he can’t pick up a phone. At best, that’s inefficient.”

“At worst?”

“At worst, Starshine, you have a deeply dysfunctional father/son relationship.”

“Wow. You really are a genius.”

Patrick barks a laugh and then begins to hum the new Madonna song he’s been singing off and on for the last two days.

“That’s still stuck in your head, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Better than ‘We Three Kings’ mixed with ‘Scarborough Fair,’” Will mutters. Finished with his morning insulin rituals, he starts the water in the sink to begin his shaving routine. “Tony doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, and being a reliable member of our family was never something he was good at.”

“When did you last see him?”

“It’s been three years. It can be ten more for all I care.” Will pumps shaving cream into his hand and smears it on his face. “He sweeps in on a whim, wreaks havoc on our lives, and sweeps out again.”

Patrick is quiet behind the curtain and Will glances over to see that he’s rinsing out his hair.

“There’s no pattern, unless you count my mom getting serious with anyone. As soon as my dad gets wind of her being happy with someone else, he has to come to town and wreck it.”

“With his dick.”

Will sighs. “Everything’s about sex for you, isn’t it?”

“Nope. A lot of things. But not everything.” He turns off the water and throws back the curtain. Will averts his eyes quickly, but his hands are already shaking enough that he’s not sure he should be trusted to shave himself. Patrick goes on. “But it’s all about sex between your parents. The Hurting Times churns with scintillating tales of your mom inappropriately hopping on your dad’s pole.”

“Like you know anything about ‘inappropriate’.”

Patrick laughs. “Like I know about that time they banged in the bathroom at some old lady’s funeral. The Hurting Times forum had pages dedicated to that one.”

Will’s ears grow hot.

“And, hey, for the record, even I know a funeral home toilet is a bad place for sex. Public bathrooms are tourist destinations for germs.” He shudders and slings a towel around his hips, thankfully covering his dangling dick. “It’s not sanitary.”

“You are such a jerk.”

“So you tell me.” Patrick grabs a hairbrush and runs it through his wet hair. The dark auburn looks almost brown and glistens brightly in the overhead bathroom lights. “There’s evidence of a genetic component to addiction.” Patrick’s eyes go foggy as he muses, “But is it addiction or abuse? Both probably.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You, mainly. But I’m also talking about them. If The Hurting Times gossip about the two of them is even half true, they are their own kind of addicts. Addicted to each other. Addicted to sex. Addicted to falling in love. Especially your mother. But it’s possible your father uses the intense sexual connection between them as abuse.”

“I…” Will’s fingers clutch at the razor and he drags it against his skin carefully. “I didn’t think you believed in psychology mumbo-jumbo.”

“I don’t believe in spiritual mumbo-jumbo. And, yes, psychology is a lot of bull-honky, but as a neurologist, I can’t deny that thoughts and experiences have physical effects on brain tissue. Dubious and whoo-hoo as most psychological theories seem compared with hard science. What’s your dad’s sign?”

“Really?”

Patrick shrugs and sidles up next to Will at the sink, examining his own face in the mirror.

Will sighs. “Early November. So, what’s that? Scorpio?”

“Ah. And your mother’s a Scorpio too.”

“How do you know? The Hurting Times again?”

“I know because I’ve met her.”

Patrick’s arm slides against his as he reaches for the can of shaving cream. Will moves slightly to the side but Patrick just scoots closer. Will can smell soap on his skin and shampoo in his hair. He wonders what those curls would feel like slick and wet under his fingers.

Patrick rubs on shaving cream and reaches for his razor. His naked chest slides against Will’s bicep.

Will tries to concentrate on shaving, but Patrick’s reflection in the mirror is distracting. His normally pale skin is flushed from the shower and his nipples are pink and peaked. Will clears his throat and scrapes his razor over his face again.

“Addiction,” Patrick muses on. “You didn’t stumble into that on your own. You drink…and your parents screw. That’s how these genes play out. And with both of them being Scorpios…”

Patrick’s arm rubs against him, and Will clicks his tongue against his teeth. Between this touching and Patrick’s speculation about his parents’ sex life, Will can’t tell if he’s going to pop an inconvenient boner or if his balls are going to shrivel up into his body.

“Two Scorpios can burn down a barn from the heat of their mutual orgasms.”

Ball-shriveling wins out. “Okay, well, this conversation has covered everything I never wanted to think about. I’m going to be late to work.”

Patrick studies Will in the mirror.

Will wipes his face clean of cream, decides not to care that he’s got one stripe of shiny skin on an otherwise stubbly face, and, grabbing his murse, leaves the sink to Patrick.

He dresses quickly. He really is going to be late. Not that anyone at Good Works would say anything to him.

“Do you have surgery scheduled?” Will calls out as he slides his wallet into his back pocket and hitches his bag on his shoulder.

“No.”

“Meet you here tonight?”

“Will there be more Capheus?”

“Yes. And more Lito.”

“It’s a TV date with the hubby, then,” Patrick says, stepping out into the room with his sharp grin in place.

The hubby.

“First person home calls room service,” Patrick adds. “Order stuff we both like. We can share.”

“Deal.”

“Oh, and Will? For the record, you’d still be hot even if you wore an insulin pump.”

“Thanks. But I’ll stick with the pens.”

Walking out of the pharmacy twenty minutes later with his new insulin pens, Will wonders what kind of sex Libras and Aries are supposed to have. You already know the answer to that. Hot enough to burn down a barn.

“God, just stop.”

He rubs a hand over his hair and decides to focus on the day ahead. He’ll take it one step at a time. Just like AA has taught him.


Author Bios

Leta Blake

Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake's educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.

You can find out more about her by following her online:


Alice Griffiths

A long-time reader of romance novels, Alice Griffiths finally took the plunge into writing, teaming up with best-selling author Leta Blake for the 'Woke up Married' serialized comedy. A lover of tropes, Alice enjoys mining old ideas and putting a fresh, funny spin on them. Formerly working in the newspaper industry, Alice is now an art curator. She lives in Sydney, Australia.

You can find out more about her by following her online: