“Knight Defenders by Victoria Sue is a fun read, with humor, the unbelievable, one woman with sass and attitude, as well as a heart as big Texas and one brave knight who just may be falling for the right woman at the right time. Enjoy the magic, the action and the mystery of King Arthur’s men. Fun reading! Fast reading! The author, Victoria Sue has done a stand up job of blending myth, magic and mirth in a magnetic page turner!” ~ 5 Star Goodreads Review (Diane)

Has loved books for as long as she can remember. Books were always what pocket money went on and what usually Father Christmas brought. When she ran out of her kids’ adventure stories, she would go raid her mom’s. By the age of eight she was devouring classics like Little Women, and fell in love with love stories.She’s still in love with them. Any size, any shape, any creature – love is love, no matter what it says on the box.In fact if they don’t fit very neatly into any box she loves them even more!She has a very patient husband and three wonderful children. In 2010 in search of adventure they all moved from the UK to the US and are happily settled in Florida. Finally, after reading love stories for so long, she decided to write her own.

Every city needs a hero, but Detroit’s white knight just might be a villain.

A rough childhood branded Jasper Storm trouble. A bad boy. Not worth a damn. His love of cars was the only thing that could battle his delinquency. With the need for speed in his blood, he overcame his wayward ways. Mostly. All grown up, the broken city of Detroit hails him their shining star. And the man behind a new cutting-edge automobile is ready to turn this bankrupt town around.

Everything he does in life is fast. He talks fast, f*cks fast, and drives fast. But when one reckless turn brings him face-to-face with the childhood he has tried very hard to forget, he finds himself on the edge of wondering if he shouldn’t slow down.

Charlotte Lane was the tomboy who lived next door. She was his best friend. He was her protector. Then tragedy struck and she disappeared, forever—or so he thought.

Jasper has many reasons to hate Charlotte and keep his distance, but she’s infiltrating his every thought and he can’t stay away. Back in town with an agenda of her own, she should push him aside. Make him turn around. Walk away herself. Yet she can’t.

With the past lurking between them, they proceed with caution. That is until one sex-filled night leads to murder. When Detroit’s biggest ally suddenly becomes suspect number one, will Charlotte—the girl Jasper once kept safe—be the one to save him?

 

Reader * Writer * Coffeelover * Romantic

Kim is a daydreamer. So much so that if daydreaming could be a hobby it would be her favorite. It’s how her stories are born and how they take root. An imagination that runs wild is something to be thankful for, and she is very thankful. 🙂

She grew up in New York and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and with the rest of her time embraces one of her biggest passions–writing.

Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read.

She likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and Happily-Ever-Afters. She loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.

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Two people on different paths that were never meant to cross.He saved me.

Ours was a toxic love. So lethal it was destined to ruin us both, and it did. In the end, everything went wrong for all the right reasons.
Our lives divided. But our love would be infinite. A forbidden crush.
A destructive romance.
A fierce love. Roamyn & Alison

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“Author. Mother. Lover. Dreamer.”

Ivy Stone is an Australian author. She is a self-confessed lover of alpha males and happily ever afters. Getting lost in a fictional world is how she discovered her passion for writing. When she isn’t daydreaming up new romantic stories she’s likely to be found spending time with her family.

Ivy writes sexy romance and is the author of the Unguarded series. She also loves to hear from her readers.

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Revenge. Blood. Lies. Hate.


The good guy is the bad guy and the bad guy is the good guy.


Or is that what they want you to believe?


In a city where crime is at an all time high and new mutilated bodies are showing up every day, who do you trust?


He’s the silent neighbor who vanishes at night and reappears when the morning news is reporting on the latest victim.


How do you know this?


You watch him through the curtains as his silent stalker. Everything about him is twisted, but you can’t get past his stare. It’s hypnotizing and the hardest pull you’ve ever experienced…you know it’s all wrong.


Then he walks through your front door covered in blood. 


Who will you trust?

“You’ve been fucking that blond all American kid,” he adds.

“I haven’t fucked him.”

“Has he tasted you?”

I slowly nod, feeling ashamed.

“Like I said, you’ve been fucking around with him.”

I scramble to tell him everything and how he’s held this power over me. “It’s your face I see when I’m with him. It’s your face I see when I go to bed. It’s you who I want.” I clutch the sides of his face. “But you won’t give me all of you.”

“Van!” Stew yells, followed by a shit ton of ruckus out in the club.

He sets me down and is gone within seconds. My hands cover my thumping chest as I realize what just happened. My tongue darts out, licking up the little bit of his taste that he left behind on my swollen lips.

Glass crashes in the far off distance as I hear bones breaking and screams soon fill the air over the commotion. I remain frozen to the wall, paralyzed by what just happened. The violence outside doesn’t even rattle me because there’s nothing left to stir up. He’s taken all of me.

Shaking the nonsense from my head, I peek out the end of the hallway and see utter destruction and chaos filling the club and Van is right in the middle of it.

His shirt is ripped once again and this time all the way off as he tries to take down two large men who clearly pissed him off. He gains the upper hand as Stew joins him and helps usher the men to the door.

A few dancers huddled together join me in the dark hall.

“What happened?” I inquire.

“I don’t know. The men just started beating the shit out of each other.”

A petite blonde who is newer and I only know by her stage name Sweet Cheeks speaks up, “I think they may have been exchanging drugs…”

Honey interrupts her, “You saw nothing and will repeat nothing. It’s the only way to stay safe around here.”

Honey stares me down with disgust. “And this bitch deserves no fucking answers.”

I feel the need to defend myself but the venom streaming from her warns me it’s not worth the fucking fight. Pushing out my chest, I ignore her ass. I guarantee she knows exactly what just went down between Van and me. He doesn’t want a stripper whore, he wants me. That’s prize enough.

The front doors to the club slam shut, shattering some glass. When we peek around the corner, Stew and Van make their way back into the club and Van roars, “Closed for the night! Get the fuck out!”

Bodies scatter in every direction. The dancers ditch me to go get dressed–I guess you don’t have to tell them twice about going home early. The large digital clock on the wall reads ten thirty.

Holy shit, Stew is closing down four hours early. Something must be seriously wrong. My legs quake underneath me from the shit storm that just attacked my world. Once they steady up a bit, I walk out into the bar and spot Van down on his knees, examining a little baggy of white powder.

“Bay, head home. The lunch crew can clean up.” Stew’s slumped over on a stool with a whiskey in his hand.

“I can stay and help out.” My voice is feeble as my legs tremble.

“Get your ass home,” Stew grits out.

It’s with dread that I go for my purse and hoodie. Van doesn’t look up as he’s intent on whatever he’s studying. It’s a white powdery substance sprinkled across the floor. My body hungers to go to him, but I know whatever we just shared has been bottled back and locked tightly within him.

“I’ll be back.” I turn to see Van following me out of the club.

Focusing forward, my feet pound the pavement and I hear Van meeting me step for step. My hands fumble with the keys and finally unlock the door, flipping on the porch light quickly. I look back to see Van standing on the sidewalk and then he fades away into the darkness of the night going the opposite way to his place.

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Two alpha women on a mission. Two alpha males hungry to claim them.

But can these wild hearts be tamed?

Rough and hard-as-nails Alpha wolf, Aria. Classy and fierce vampire, Ember.

The strongest of their kind, they reluctantly join forces to protect the supernatural world from extinction. 

Things become complicated when an all-powerful warlock sets his sights on Ember, while a soldier of the enemy seeks to claim Aria. Passions and desires ignite. Loyalties are tested. Enemies abound.

The stage is set for one hell of an epic battle in the first installment of this smoldering paranormal romance saga.

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I gasp in shock as the foggy darkness dissipates and the intruder is revealed.

He’s standing over by the door in a rigid, ready-for-anything pose. A soldier’s stance if I ever saw one. My eyes wander over him. His brown hair that’s styled in a military crew cut. Those deep, enthralling hazel eyes that have this uncanny ability to hold me captive in a way I’ve never known before. The golden breastplate covering his broad, muscular torso. My gaze dips lower to some sort of kilt-like thing extending to the top of his thighs. His legs are protected by golden armor and his knee-high boots appear metallic too. But the thing that stands out above all else is that awful Sword of Judgment holstered at his right hip.

Cahl.

Fuck. He’s here to finish the job. How the hell did he find me?

I scramble to wrap the duvet around me to hide my nakedness. That, in itself, is an odd reaction for me. I feel shy about being exposed to him. That’s never been the case for me before. I’ve never been ill at ease with being unclothed.

I hurry off the bed, clutching the duvet tightly to my chest with one hand, while keeping my other free to defend myself with if he makes a sudden move.

I can feel that I’m healed now and back at full strength, so I only need one to take this Ambassador asshole down. That’s pretty cocky, but I know my power. Even though I definitely felt that he was stronger than the other Ambassadors I’ve come into contact with in the past, I know I can still hold my own.

He tenses up as I approach. But he’s not tensing in preparation for a fight. No, I can see it in his eyes. He’s…nervous. Nervous? That’s weird.

“Why couldn’t I see you? Smell you?”

“Black magic,” he answers, simply. “I could not allow your wolf pack to sense my presence.”

Oh my God. “What have you done?”

His brow furrows. “Done?”

“To my wolves? If you’ve hurt them—”

“I am not here for that.”

“How did you track us here?” I demand, getting ready to call my wolf claws to the surface. He might not be readying for battle, but I’m not a fool. It must just be a trick; a new tactic to try to get me to lower my defenses, or something.

“Your pack does not concern me. Neither does your vampire ally.”

Nice try at deflecting the question. “How?” I thunder.

He seems confused. “It was you.”

Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“You called me to you.”

He steps forward, leaving merely a few inches between us as his towering six-foot-five wall of muscle and armor looms over me. “What spell have you cursed me with?”

What the actual hell? “Spell? I’m not a witch, asshole.”

“You may not be, but you could certainly have employed one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your scent is more potent than any other Tainted breed I have encountered and I cannot dispel it from my consciousness. You plague me with thoughts of you and…sentiment for you.”

It takes me a moment, but then realization dawns on me. Wow. “It’s called attraction.”

“Attraction?”

“It’s not a spell. You’re attracted to me.” Of course he thinks it’s the result of a spell, because Ambassadors are not known for feeling or showing any sort of emotion. He probably has no idea what to do with it.

Oh, this is nice. I can use this.

“I do not accept that. I have a mission. I do not desire any woman, especially not a Tainted target. You have spelled me.”

I glare at him. “Don’t flatter yourself, soldier boy. Do you really think I want you anywhere near me?”

I see him take that in, thinking it over. And then he says, “Then this is a ruse.”

I step closer until we’re only inches apart. His eyes widen, that nervousness back again as he struggles to maintain eye contact. Hmm…I make him nervous? Very interesting. That works for me.

“I don’t play games. And the idea that you’re attracted to me, disgusts me.” Okay, maybe that’s not the whole truth when it comes to the attraction thing, but I need it to be. “Your kind murdered my dad! I hate you all!” I snarl, rage rising within me from just recalling that awful day.

He catches me off guard, making me gasp, as he suddenly grabs my chin. Just like back at that hotel, his touch is gentle.

He regards me curiously for several excruciating long moments of incredible awkwardness. For the life of me, I don’t know why the hell I don’t pull away. Jesus. What is this? Why isn’t my hatred for him pure and straightforward like it is for the rest of his Ambassador kind?

“You feel it too,” he says. “I can see it in your eyes. You are right. This is not a spell.” He releases me and he backs away, shaking his head. “How is this possible?”

“Hell if I know. I don’t care.”

“You should be no more than a target,” he goes on, turning his back to me as he continues shaking his head with disbelief.

I can’t believe he’s actually turning his back. A soldier turning his back to his enemy? Talk about letting his guard down in a major way. He’s really affected by this. He’s not thinking clearly. I know I should take advantage of it. Ambassadors are my enemies. He is my enemy.

But a part of me is hesitating. I don’t understand it. Get a fucking grip, Aria! I need to take this asshole down and he’s just given me an in that won’t result in me sustaining so much damage for once, unlike every other time I’ve come up against one of his kind.

I draw in a breath to clear my damn head. Do it! Do it!

“Cahl,” I say in a voice purposely full of sugary sweetness.

He turns back to me.

I release my grip on the duvet. It pools at my feet, leaving me standing there before him completely naked.

My odd shyness from before is nowhere to be found. This is a mission now. I have the upper hand here. He’s completely out of his element. Weak. He attacked me back at the hotel when I was wounded and weak. This is just me returning the favor. Taking advantage of his vulnerability.

But his reaction surprises me.

He shields his eyes with his hand and demands, “Cover yourself.”

Wow. I’ve never heard those words from any male before. But I’m not backing down now. I can seduce him into subjugation. “You want to touch me.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just takes a step back from me.

“This is what you came here for, Cahl. Take it.” Like hell, he will be. Fucker.

Still, he says nothing.

“Come on! You had your hands on me earlier without my permission and now I’m offering it up to you!”

Oh my God. Still nothing. He’s not making a move. How is this happening? “Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” I bite at him, getting frustrated. “Take it!” I hiss harshly.

He moves so fast then and I suddenly find myself wrapped in the duvet again, my back against the wall, with him pinning my arms tightly at my sides in a matter of seconds. Holy hell!

“It is you who is afraid,” he says, glaring down at me.

“What?” I seethe.

“You hide the truth from them all and even from yourself.”

“The truth?” I scoff. “The only truth here is that you want me dead, so I’m gonna do whatever it takes to stop that from fucking happening.”

His eyes flash with realization. “You exposed yourself to manipulate me?”

“Damn right, I did. And I will kill you.”

“I do not wish to kill you, Aria.”

Urgh. I hate the way he says my name. It has my body reacting in a way I don’t fucking want it to. “I hate you! I hate your kind!” I yell at him, loathing that he’s able to affect me.

He smiles with amusement. “Your fear speaks lies to me.”

“I don’t have the fucking fear gene!”

He shifts his grip on my arms, grabbing my wrists in a single hand and raising them up above my head. With his free hand, he presses his fingers gently to my heart. “This is what possesses such fear. You hide it from them all.” His enthralling hazel eyes lock with mine. “You are pure of heart. You are not like the other Tainted. There is no real malice. You do not possess a desire to kill, at least, not when you are in human form.”

Is he saying I’m weak? Hell, no. “I’ve killed plenty,” I growl at him.

“To protect your life and those of your pack. Not for pleasure. You do not relish the kill. It disgusts you, does it not? Except when you are wolf.”

The fact that he knows any of this is fucking worrying. Shit. “Get off me.”

Confusion flickers in his eyes. “You are upset with my observation?”

I growl at him.

“Ah, I see. You believe it to be a weakness. It is why you hide it.”

“I will kill you.”

“Then, by all means, try,” he challenges, releasing me suddenly and stepping back.

What the hell?

I push off the wall. His eyes are on me. All over me.

“You should not expose yourself so brazenly,” he tells me. “It is a gift,” he says, gesturing to my body. “It should be treated as such and only given to those who are worthy.”

“Is that a come on?”

“Merely a statement of fact”.

Romance authors, Eve Newton and Franca Storm have joined forces to bring forth an epic paranormal romance series, BLOOD & JUDGMENT.

 

Between them, Eve and Franca have penned over 40 romance novels.

Eve is a British novelist with a passion for anything paranormal & erotic. She loves Louboutins, good wine, and of course, a good book!

Eve has always loved to read, anything paranormal catches her interest, and writing has always been a passion of hers, so she decided to take the plunge and combine the two into a series of paranormal erotica novels. This led Eve to try out contemporary and erotic romance novels as well. Eve has loads more ideas churning around in her head and can’t wait to see them develop into books for you to enjoy.

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Franca was born in Surrey, England and currently lives in Niagara Falls, Canada with her husband and their labrador, Rocky.

She is a long-time lover of erotica and romance novels, especially those with sexy-as-sin alpha males. She decided to try her hand at writing her own and writing romance is now her obsession and the perfect way to put her dirty mind to good use!

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Date: March 8, 2016

You know me.Come on, you know you do.

Maybe you pretend you don’t. Maybe you clear your browser history religiously. Maybe you pretend to be aghast whenever someone even mentions the word porn in your presence.

But the truth is that you do know me.

Everybody knows Logan O’Toole, world famous porn star.

Except then Devi Dare pops into my world, and pretty soon I’m doing things that aren’t like me—like texting her with flirty banter and creating an entire web porn series just so I can get to star in her bed. Again. And again.

With Devi, my entire universe shifts, and the more time I spend with her, the more I realize that Logan O’Toole isn’t the guy I thought he was.

So maybe I’m not the guy you thought I was either.

 

Laurelin Paige is the NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Fixed Trilogy. She’s a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters.

 

 

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Trembling on the floor, pressed beneath a row of seats in a dark theater, college freshman Jason Tripp listens to the terrifying sound of gunshots, as an unknown shooter moves methodically through the theater, randomly murdering men, women, and children attending a student performance of Hamlet. Junior Liam Norcross drapes his massive body on top of Jason, sheltering the younger man from the deathly hail of bullets, risking his life willingly, and maybe even eagerly.As a result of the shared horror, an extraordinary bond forms between the two young men, which causes discomfort for family and friends, as well as for Jason and Liam, themselves. And added to the challenge of two previously “straight” men falling into a same-sex love, are the complications that arise from the abundance of secrets Liam holds with regard to a past family tragedy. The fledgling passion between the men seems bound to fade away into the darkness from which it emerged.

Jason, however, is inexplicably called to rescue his hero in return, by delving into Liam’s shady past and uncovering the mystery that compels the older man to act as the college town’s selfless savior.

The Art of Hero Worship takes the reader on a voyage from the dark and chilling chaos that accompanies a mass shooting to the thrill of an unexpected and sensual romance.

I wake up crying.

Okay… if I’m going to be real, I’ll admit that I’m sobbing. In these strong arms—no, sprawled on top of the solid chest of a man I hardly know—I sob in a way that I never have before. And hopefully, I’ll never have occasion to cry this bitterly again.

My emotions are practically indescribable, yet I need to apply words to them, in an effort to make some sense of what I’m feeling. The pain is raw, grating, and unbearable… and unfortunately there’s more. I’m guilt-ridden and mortified. Devastation crossed with desperation—this is me, at the moment.

And I’m not sure why I’m still here on earth. I want to disappear.

Liam stays silent, but I know he’s awake because his hands have resumed the rhythmic stroking on my back.

“Why’d you have to go and s-save me? Y-you should have let me d-die like I was supposed to!” I’m furious, which is evident in my trembling accusation. The pain would be over if he’d have let me die. I add mad as hell to my list of indescribable emotions. And highly irrational… I tack this one onto the end of the fast growing list.

He inhales deeply. “We’re gonna survive this. Our bodies survived Friday night in the theater. Now we’ve gotta make our minds survive the aftermath.”

“What makes you think I want to survive it? What makes you so sure I didn’t want to go with her?” It’s too hard to say her name.

Wide palms freeze on my shoulder blades and rest there heavily. “Sorry, dude, but it wasn’t your day to die.” He takes another one of those huge swallows of air that causes both of our bodies to rise and fall. Then the mesmerizing movement of his hands resumes.

Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children—all named after saints—and five nonpedigreed cats—all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.

Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to CoolDudes Publishing, Dreamspinner Press, Harmony Ink Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.

Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.

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