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Forsaking Hope by Beverley Oakley: Tour and Giveaway

 

Forsaking Hope

Fair Cyprians of London

By Beverley Oakley

 

Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

 

Forsaking Hope Blurb:

 

Two years ago, she missed their secret assignation and disappeared without a trace. Now the divine “Miss Hope” is in Felix Durham’s bed – a ‘surprise cheering-up gift’ sourced by his friends from London’s most exclusive brothel. Felix is in heaven – and he wants to stay there.

So does Hope, but she can’t.

Hope Merriweather lives by a code of honour – even if she’s a prostitute.

Having sold her soul, she’s prepared to sacrifice everything else to protect what she believes in.

Even if honour – in her eyes – comes at the cost of thieving and breaking hearts. Including her own.

 

Available for preorder here:

Amazon US | Amazon UK | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Google Play

 

 

Excerpt:

Chapter One

 

Wilfred Hunt.

If there was a name to tip Hope into the abyss of despair she was hearing it spill from Madame Chambon’s lips now as the older woman directed Hope to take a seat in the reception room, presumably so Madame could loom oppressively over her.

With her hands on her ample, expensively padded hips, Hope’s benefactress—procuress, employer and gaoler were other monikers—sent Hope a beetling look that needed no interpreting: Regardless of Hope’s true feelings, Hope must project the required show of warmth and delight at being the chosen one.

Madame patted the side of her faux curls. Years of hot irons had reduced her hair to the texture of wool but her crowning glory these days was supplemented by the lustrous locks of those girls who dared cross her – before they were thrown back into the street from where most had come.

Nevertheless, Hope had to make her resistance clear. Surely Madame who knew her history would understand her loathing for this man, above all others. “I shan’t do it,” she whispered. There was little evidence of the willful child and wild adolescent who’d been the despair of her family. “I won’t—”

Outside, the noise of the traffic rumbling over the cobbles and the shrill calls of competing vendors settled upon the tense silence. Madame Chambon’s other girls, ranged around the sumptuously appointed room on red velvet upholstered banquettes, watched the exchange with prurient fascination. Hope knew it had been a calculated ploy of Madame’s to conduct her interview in public so that Hope would serve as an example to them.

No one crossed Madame Chambon.

The shrill cry of a fishmonger caused Madame to look pointedly out of the window. With something between a smile and a sneer, she smoothed a Marcel wave. “Is that where you plan to return, Hope? The gutter?” Her nose twitched and in the sunlight that filtered into the room, the grooves chiselled between mouth and chin were thrown into harsh relief, highlighted rather than hidden by the thick powder she used to conceal her age.

Madame Chambon’s comfort, now and into retirement, depended on obedient girls. Hope knew that as well as anyone. She’d had to bury her rebellious streak just to ensure food in her belly.

The Frenchwoman raised a chiselled brow and began to pace slowly in front of her girls. A painter with an eye for beauty would have been ecstatic at capturing such a spectacle on canvas. The discerning young man about town who visited 56 Albemarle Street was frequently rendered ecstatic by the range of delights Madame Chambon’s girls offered in addition to the visual.

“You forget yourself, Hope. I put a roof over your head and deck you out as handsomely as Mr Charles Worth ever did for his most discerning customer.” There was acid in Madame Chambon’s tone. “But for me, you’d be starving and glad of the pennies you could trade for a grubby stand-up encounter in a dark alley.” Madame Chambon thrust out her bosom and breathed through her nose, her response a calculated warning to the other girls arranged in various languid poses about the ornately decorated reception room that intransigence would not be tolerated.

“Mr Hunt has requested you.” She paused and when Hope remained silent, though her stance and expression left no one in any doubt as to her horror regarding this enforced assignation, went on. “Remember what I told you—what I tell all my girls when they first come here? The past must be forgotten the moment you step over my threshold. You are reborn, remodelled, refashioned into the most exquisite delectation of womanhood. A marquess, a prince, is well recompensed for the tidy sum he hands over in order to enjoy your sparkling wit, to converse with you in French, or if he chooses, on philosophy…to enjoy your charms…and,” she added significantly, “your gracious hospitality and tender ministrations to his needs. That is our agreement and you are no different. If Mr Hunt wishes you, Hope, to attend him at his residence then you will go.”

Faith, one of the kinder girls, patted Hope’s arm in silent solidarity. Hope didn’t expect any of them to speak up in her defence. Not when they all relied on Madame Chambon as much as she did to provide them with the necessities of life. Anything more than that was part of a strict contract that indentured a girl for life unless she was able to secure a generous benefactor to settle Madame’s severance bill. The fine clothes were part of the charade, necessary to entice a more elite clientele. Hope’s exquisite wardrobe did not belong to her though she’d have forsaken all the dupion silk and Spitalfields lace for the freedom of the gutter and to be mistress of her own destiny – and her body – if she could only be sure of a plate of gravy and potatoes every second day.

Closing her eyes, she hung her head, the carefully coiffed curls that fell forwards brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks. It was as well that they not be in evidence. Tears, weakness, vulnerability were like a red rag to a bull where Madame Chambon was concerned.

“How long…do I have to prepare myself?” She was not so stupid she couldn’t admit defeat when there was no alternative. Obduracy was beaten out of one, but tears ensured a girl got the very worst next assignment. Their clients weren’t all marquesses and princes, though they did require a very fat pocket book.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Hope repeated it in a leaden tone, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap; white-knuckled. As white as the rabbit-fur that edged her fashionable black-and-white striped satin cuirass. Hope had the tall, slim figure suited to the scandalously tight tie-back skirts that were all the rage, the back flowing into a train adorned with elaborate swags and trimmed with bows. She’d turned heads the length of Oxford Street as she’d promenaded along the pavement following a walk through Hyde Park earlier that afternoon. In fact, for the first time in two years, she’d almost felt happy as she’d pretended a sense of freedom in the afternoon sun, blocking her mind to the prison to which she was returning.

She drew in her breath and forced herself to be brave, knowing the punishment she’d invite for daring to speak her mind. “Please tell Mr Hunt I will see him again under sufferance.”

Madame Chambon’s voice was surprisingly caramel. “Well then, now that you have made your objection clear, Hope, you will be pleased to hear that Mr Hunt’s desires are not only motivated by fond memories of your no-doubt mutually satisfying congress. I believe he wishes to acquaint you with news of your family.”

Hope hid her shock. “I have no family.” With care, she modified her tone so it was as leaden as before though emotion roiled close to the surface.

“Not even a sister?”

Hope raised her chin. Here was the chink and Madame knew it. The woman did her research.

Aware that the other girls who surrounded her were tense with anticipation, Hope struggled not to respond. Camaraderie existed at surface level but one never knew when it might profit one to have the dirt on a fellow prostitute. It was, clearly, another reason Madame Chambon had chosen to make this conversation public.

“Mr Hunt will see you at nine tomorrow evening,” said the so-called Frenchwoman who, it was whispered, was from the gutters of Lambeth, not Paris. “At his apartments in Duke Street. Now go and prepare yourself for Lord Farrow. Married to a monolith like the venerable Lady Farrow, he likes his girls vivacious and free-spirited. There’ll be less coin in your pocket if you sully the transaction with that long face, Hope.”

 

 

About Beverley:

 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.

Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.

 

You can get in contact with Beverley at:

 

Website | Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Goodreads

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Kayelle Allen Reveals Cover for Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire

 

Bringer of Chaos: Forged in Fire

The Sempervian Saga (Book 2)

by Kayelle Allen

 

 

BLURB:

Humans created the Ultras, a genetically enhanced race, to defend mankind. Instead, Ultras became their greatest
threat. With the help of traitors, humans captured half a million of the immortal warriors.

 

Exiled to an alien world with no tech, no tools, and no resources, their leader, Pietas, must protect his people, find food
and shelter and unite them. But before he can, he must regain command from a ruthless adversary he’s fought for centuries–his brutal, merciless father.

 

Ultras are immortal, and no matter how they die, they come back. Reviving after death isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Some wounds heal instantly and a few take time, but battered and broken trust? Immortals may heal, but a wound of the heart lasts forever.

 

Genre: Science Fiction with romantic elements

Rating: PG13 for violence, no profanity or explicit content

 

 

 

Excerpt:

 

 

In this scene, Pietas performs a ritual with the help of his friend, Six.

Pietas’s long hair, full of static electricity from the wind and storm, settled over his shoulders and adhered to his neck.
He could not lift his arms to gather it himself but he did not want the others to see he needed help nor did he want Six fretting over it.

The man blamed himself for the injury. Yes, Six had bound Pietas. It had been Six’s duty to do so. In truth, those who had placed Pietas inside the pod and refused to release him were to blame, but no matter how often he reminded Six of that, the ghost refused to relinquish his guilt.

Six dug into his pockets. “I think I have another strip.” They had torn several from a ragged shirt. Six wore the biggest piece around his neck. He set down his pack and opened it.

“Six,” Pietas hissed. He did not turn his head, but looked toward the others. “Leave it!”

The ghost glanced up at him, then the immortals, waiting ahead. “You want the women messing with your hair? Is that it?”

He closed his eyes, counting to ten. To a hundred would not erase this embarrassment. “No.” When he beheld Six, the man had the discourtesy to smirk. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.”

The man chuckled. “We should have cut your hair before we set out.” He rummaged through his kit, which held all Six owned when he’d been abandoned on this world. Little more than survival gear.

“I never cut it except in ritual.”

“I know.” Six withdrew a boning knife used for it.

Before every battle, Pietas performed the solemn rite to affirm superior strength and prowess. The ghost had been the first human to see it carried out, albeit the first half from a distance while hiding.

Six stood. “Maybe you could perform it now.”

“How like you to see the easy solution. But there are a few elements missing. No fire. No water. No mask.” He gestured toward the oncoming storm. “No time.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of pretending?”

“One cannot ‘pretend’ a ritual.”

“What a boring childhood you must’ve had. Why not?”

Pietas opened his mouth to answer. Shut it again.

Six lifted one eyebrow. “Do you want to go into that dark hole and meet up with your people without performing it?”

“No, but there’s no time.”

“Rain’s coming.” Six jerked a thumb toward the forest. “Like I said, you have to go in there or you won’t reunite with your people. Are you going to stand out here making excuses, or do this?”

“Ghost, this ritual is important. It deserves respect.”

Blah, blah, blah. That storm is bearing down on us.” A few drops of rain splattered them both. “See? Or maybe you’d rather have your sister help you with your hair every morning.”

“Fine!” With a resigned sigh, Pietas capitulated. “How do you propose we ‘pretend’ my ritual?”

Six tucked the knife into his belt and held out his cupped hands. “This is fire.”

Pietas hesitated.

“Come on, Pi.” Six wagged his cupped hands. “This stuff is hot.”

“Of course it is.” A smile slipped onto his face and refused to leave. “It’s pretend fire. That’s the hottest kind.”

“Remember, you do this naked. Unzip your robe or whatever it is you’d wear.”

Pietas mimed removing his silk robe. He plucked one hair and laid it across Six’s hands, feeding it to the fire. “As fire has victory over life, so I have victory over my enemies.” He passed a hand through the imaginary flame. As he had in the real ritual, he hissed at the scorching heat. He cupped his hands over Six’s, a symbolic end to the flames. “I am
powerful, as fire is powerful.”

“Next is air, right?”

“Yes.” He lifted both hands, made fists, and yanked them back. “I own the wind. I prevail over the breath of my enemies.”

Again, Six cupped his hands. “Water.”

“Water submits to my presence the way enemies submit to my will.” He scooped his hands into the bowl, lifted his arms and pictured the liquid dripping down them. “The blood of my enemies trickles into the pool of time, is absorbed, and forgotten.” He bent and pushed both hands through his hair. “My mind is clear. I do not waver.”

Six held his hands flat, waist high. “The pond.”

Pietas ducked as if to submerse himself, then rose, throwing back his head. “My body submits to my will. No pain defeats me. No fear touches me.” He brushed his hands down the length of his body. “My will is absolute. I am bigger than any fear. I prevail in every circumstance. I face every foe. I vanquish every enemy. I overcome. I am indomitable. I am invincible.”

“Black face paint for the mask.” Six held out his hands.

The ceremonial mask represented a splash of blood across his face received during battle. Dipping two fingers of each hand into the bowl, Pietas outlined a bandit’s mask up over his dark eyebrows to the area beneath his eyes. He brushed his fingertips over his eyelids and met Six’s gaze.

Finding a mixture of awe and respect threw him out of the moment. He faltered, unable to recall what came next.

Six offered the knife hilt first.

The man had seen the ritual performed once, from a distance, yet he’d remembered each step. Six wouldn’t have known the next part was performed by Pietas’s sister if no trusted partner or friend was at hand. The time Six had seen it done, Pietas had not yet considered him either one.

How wrong he had been. The man was more than both.

 

 

Bringer of Chaos: The Origin of Pietas

The Sempervian Saga (Book 1)

 

Why should Pietas end the war with humans?

His people are winning, yet they insist on peace talks. The Ultra people want to grant humans a seat on the Council. Pietas ap Lorectic, Chancellor of the High Council, War Leader and First Conqueror, disagrees. What’s best for mortals is oppression, control, and if necessary, elimination.

Pietas seethes with rage at the idea of human equality. Humans might have created Ultras, but the creation has far surpassed the creator. Humans die. Ultras are reborn, no matter how grievous the injury. They have no equals.

His people permit him no choice. He must attend these insipid peace talks on Enderium Six and what’s worse, be polite. To humans.

When a human special ops warrior is killed in battle, he’s resurrected in a secret process and inducted into the Ghost Corps. He’s given enough strength to perma-kill immortal Ultras. Ghosts are the most hated and feared of warriors.

When the ghost entraps and captures Pietas at the peace talks, the two begin a long journey toward Sempervia, an isolated and forgotten world. Once there, Pietas is marooned and the ghost abandoned alongside him. The two must either fight to perma-death, or join forces to survive.

As Pietas comes to trust the human, an unlikely and awkward friendship begins. Until he discovers how ghosts are resurrected…

Amazon Buy Link

 

 

Giveaway – Free Download

 

Free — download Endure, Illustrated Quotes by Pietas (as told to Kayelle Allen). Enjoy an exclusive collection of quotes on the concept of endurance by the man known to other immortals as the Bringer of Chaos. https://kayelleallen.com/media/30-days-endure.pdf

 

Download a free adult coloring book you can print and share. Relax and color with friends. It’s fun! https://kayelleallen.com/media/pietas-coloring-book.pdf

 


 

Mythic Heroes and Misbehaving Robots:

 

 

 

Kayelle Allen writes Sci Fi with mythic heroes, misbehaving robots, role playing immortal gamers, and warriors who
purr. She’s a US Navy veteran and has been married so long she’s tenured.

https://kayelleallen.com

Twitter https://twitter.com/kayelleallen

Facebook https://facebook.com/kayelleallen.author

Join the Romance Lives Forever Reader Group Download four free books and get news about books coming soon. You can unsubscribe at any time.

 

 

 

Sultry Nights Romance Collection Blog Tour and Giveaway

 

 

Sultry Nights

A Limited Edition Romance Collection

Containing Stories from: Nicole Morgan, Jocelyn Dex, Alison Foster,

Kate Richards, Linda O’Connor, Samantha Holt, Jerrie Alexander,

Whitley Cox, Krista Ames, Ursula Sinclair, Measha Stone, Tuesday Embers,

Siera London, Rachel Shane, Bonnie Phelps, Misha Elliott,

Alyson Reynolds, Jenna Bayley-Burke, Madison Michael,

Pepper Goodrich, Marcia James, Destiny Blaine

 

 

 

The authors are giving away lots of goodies with this tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Don’t forget you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

 

 

 

 

 

Sultry Nights Blurb:

Love, passion, romance and desire… No matter what your preference, this set of 22 hot and sexy reads has just what you need. From surprise love affairs to bad boys that we can’t help but fall for, and couples that were meant to be, this compilation from Romance Collections is sure to please your every single need.

 

 

 

 

 

Sultry Nights Buy Links:

Amazon

 

Featuring:

Love Unleashed, novella

By Marcia James

 

 

Love Unleashed BLURB:

 

His best laid plans…

 

DJ “Rabid Ron” Hart has a grand scheme to win back the woman he loves. It involves an animal adoption fair, a goofy hairless dog named Charlie and an offer she can’t refuse.

 

Her hidden desires…

 

Cara Wilson has fantasies she’s never admitted, and her ex-boyfriend still features in her erotic dreams. If only he didn’t keep his bad-boy urges so tightly leashed.

 

Tonight they’ll learn that winning sometimes takes losing control.

 

 

 

 

Love Unleashed Excerpt:

Cara knew this wasn’t fair to Ron. Even if he hated her afterward, he had a right to know why she’d left him. “We got
along great everywhere but in the bedroom. You’re just too…nice for me.”

“What the–? Too nice!” He gritted his teeth. “I was so careful with you–”

“Did I ask you to be careful?” Dammit, she wasn’t a bad person. Men didn’t apologize for liking kinky sex. Why should she? “You treated me like a porcelain doll, like I’d break if you looked at me cross-eyed.”

He leaned closer, his arms folded over his muscular chest. “I’m over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than you. Was I supposed to body slam you to the floor and screw you senseless?”

“Yes!” God, it would have been wonderful if he’d been more sexually aggressive. “I loved you, Ron, but I can’t commit to a man whose lovemaking is so…”

“What? Boring?” He was being sarcastic, but his mouth dropped open as something in her eyes must have confirmed his comment. “This is crazy. I put you first every time. You want a selfish bastard who just cares about his own needs?”

He was crowding her personal space, and Cara’s anger spiked. “You can be generous in bed and still open to new things. Selfish and daring aren’t synonymous.”

“So, Cara, you want spice or kink?” His lips twisted. “Should I get a copy of the Kama Sutra?”

“I’m not ashamed of my desires.” She was tired of men scorning her for having a strong sex drive. “You’re the one who’s repressed. Ron Hart, Mr. Perfect Gentleman. Why keep such a tight leash on yourself? I’m not going to faint if you give into your urges.”

His pupils dilated and his jaw clenched, but she wasn’t afraid. Ron would never hurt her, but he might finally let his inner-caveman out. And if he threw off his good-boy manners and didn’t despise her for her fantasies, there might be a chance for them after all.

Ron’s gaze dropped to her mouth. His voice deep and sensual, he asked, “You want me to give in to my urges, Cara?”

Yes. God, yes. She’d had fantasies like this since she’d met him–Ron taking what he wanted from her, giving in to his wild side. Licking her lips in anticipation, she nodded.

 

 

 

About Marcia James:

 

Marcia James finaled in eleven Romance Writers of America contests before selling her first contemporary romance. Her releases include Sex & the Single Therapist (the first in a comic romantic mystery series) and the “Klein’s K-9s Service Dogs” contemporary romance series. A national and international ebook bestseller, she writes hot, humorous romances featuring heroines you can root for, heroes to die for, and funny dogs.

 

In her eclectic career, Marcia has shot submarine training videos, organized celebrity-filled nonprofit events, and had her wedding covered by People Magazine. After years of dealing with such sexy topics as how to safely install traffic lights, she is enjoying “researching” and plotting her novels’ steamy love scenes with her husband and hero of many years.

 

 

Find Marcia Here:

 

Website: www.MarciaJames.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarciaJamesAuthor

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Marcia_James

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/marciajames/

Amazon Author Central page: www.amazon.com/author/marciajames

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

 

 

 

H. D. Thomson Anxiety — Complete Series Tour and Giveaway

 

 

Anxiety

Complete Series – Episodes 1 through 6

by H.D. Thomson

 

H.D. Thomson is giving away a fabulous prize package during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here.

 

ANXIETY BLURB:

Jake Preston is on borrowed time.

 

If he doesn’t stumble upon a miracle and soon, he’ll end up dead. And even if he does, he still might end up dead with a clever killer hounding his heels. He believes that the one miracle and antidote to save him is in Margot Davenport’s house, across the country and miles away from Boston. Somewhere locked in her home is the key to reversing an experiment that is killing him with each breath he takes.

 

Margot doesn’t particularly care if she ends up dead.

 

She’s lost everything she’s ever cared for. A divorce and the loss of her job as a corporate lawyer has left her with little faith in herself or in anyone else. Most importantly, she’s lost the one person on this earth she’s looked up to and cherished–her brother, Johnny. His death in a car accident has devastated her, and she can’t find the willpower to pull herself from the chasm she’s fallen into. Her only solace is at the bottom of a wineglass. Having moved back to the small town in northern Arizona where she was raised, she’s made a point of isolating herself both mentally and physically from everyone other than a few chosen friends. Little does she know that her life is going to explode into chaos.

 

 

 

BUY LINKS:

Amazon US | Amazon CA | Amazon UK | Amazon AU

 

 

 

 

Anxiety Excerpt:

 

She opened her mouth to scream.

“It’s me, Jake,” he said from the darkness, holding onto her arms to steady her.

She let out a long, shaky breath. “What was that?” she asked in a hushed voice. “You must have heard it. It sounded so awful.”

“It was your cat.”

“Marmaduke?”

“Yeah.”

“But I could have sworn it sounded more human than—”

“I stepped on his tail.” He cleared his throat. “Scared the hell out of both of us. He took off somewhere. Sorry about getting you out of bed.”

“I’m just glad I found out what it was. But what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Relaxing, she glanced up, only to be blinded by the night. Thick, black and total, it draped over Jake and everything around her. His hands, warm and strong, grasped her upper arms. She grew conscious of the coolness of the house, of the silk of her nightgown against her skin, but most importantly of Jake, of the deep woodsy scent of his after-shave and how his hands, minus the gloves, were now slowly sliding up and down her arms. Her toes curled beneath her. He smelled like what she envisioned a man should smell like. Desire lapped against her skin until it seeped through her flesh and took hold of her body.

He slid a hand up her arm and over a shoulder to cup her throat, while the other curled around her waist to press against the small of her back, inching her closer to the heat of his body. She met his lips halfway, opening her mouth beneath his. The kiss deepened, demanded and took. She raised a hand to feel his own against her throat. He had a long fingered, strong hand, the skin smooth and flawless over the tendons and knuckles. She touched his face, his neck, his shoulders. Against her palms, his skin was satin over hard muscle. He was all male, all power.

He hauled her closer, pressing her sensitized breasts against his chest as his tongue mated with hers. His desire thrust against the shallow hollow of her hips. The thick, hardness of him scorched through the material of her gown to her belly and turned her legs to liquid. She slid her hands over the sleek texture of his naked back, over the muscles and tendons, down across the indentation along his spine and lower.

She froze.

He was entirely, absolutely, completely naked, every male inch of him. She whimpered as her breath came out in short, shallow pants, and desire slammed against her, painful in its intensity.

Margot stiffened. Oh, God. Had she completely lost it? Where was her sanity, her morals? She hardly knew this man.

“No!” She dragged in a lungful of air. “This is all wrong!”

 

 

 

About H. D.:


H.D. Thomson moved from Ontario, Canada as a teenager to the heat of Arizona where she graduated from the University of Arizona with a B.S. in Business Administration with a major in accounting. After working in the corporate world as an accountant, H.D. changed her focus to one of her passions-books. She owned and operated an online bookstore for several years and then started the company, Bella Media Management. The company specializes in web sites, video trailers, ebook conversion and promotional resources for authors and small businesses. When she is not heading her company, she is following her first love-writing.

 

 

Find H. D. Here:

Website Link: http://www.hdthomson.com

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/H.-D.-Thomson/e/B0069DZ1KG

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorhdthomson/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/HD_Thomson

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+CarolWebbHDThomson

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5780414.H_D_Thomson

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hd_thomson/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/hdthomson/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hd_thomson/

Contact: thomsonbooks@gmail.com

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

Zoe’s Mates: New Release and Giveaway from Izzy Szyn

 

To celebrate the release of Zoe’s Mates, Izzy is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. Those locations may be found here.

 

Zoe’s Mates Blurb:

 

Previously released under the title Sexual Healing in the Coming In Hot Boxed Set.

 

Zoe’s Mates has been edited with some new material.

Paramedic Zoe Whitaker is set to become engaged to Saratoga Falls Hospital’s Chief of Staff Derek Barnes. But when his twin brother Liam returns with his lover Brent Taylor, Zoe begins to think she’s with the wrong twin.

 

Liam and Brent came back from Ravana for one reason only, to claim Zoe Whitaker.

 

 

Zoe’s Mates Excerpt:

“What are you doing to me?” she asked them. “Making you ours,” Brent brushed the hair from her face. “You’re our mate, we’ve waited too long to take what is ours.

 

What has always been ours.” Lifting her by the waist, Brent laid her across the padded bench in front of the couch. Kneeling between her thighs, Brent opened her lower lips, before sinking his tongue inside her. “BRENT,” she cried out. Damn, that felt good, she thought, opening her thighs wider, her hands going to Brent’s head, pressing him closer.

 

Suddenly Zoe was glad that Derek wasn’t willing to do this for her. It seemed right that Brent and Liam were the first ones to give her the experience she’d always craved. “I love this table, it gives us the right angle to do certain things,” Liam said.

 

Zoe’s head lowered, Liam’s cock near her lips. Mentally licking her lips in anticipation. She just hoped she did it right, “Liam, I’ve never,” she started to admit.

 

You’ve never sucked cock before?” asked Liam, “Derek is even dumber than I thought. I’ve been waiting for the day that I can see your sexy lips wrapped around my cock. Sliding in and out of your mouth, down your throat.

 

”“OH FUCK ,” she yelled. Her body stretched, never in a million years did she think it would ever feel this good.

 

 

 

About Izzy:

 

New York Times Bestselling Author Izzy Szyn was born in May of 2014 when a friend dared her to write. Born and raised in Detroit, Mi. Izzy now lives in Oklahoma City with her furchild Misty, the friendliest Chihuahua/Terrier you will ever meet.
Currently works in a call center, where she writes in between phone calls.

Izzy loves to keep in touch with her readers. Email her at izzyszyn@gmail.com.

 

 

 

Find Izzy Here:

 

 

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/izzyszynhome/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/izzySzyn

Blog: https://izzyszyn.wordpress.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13836241.Izzy_Szyn

Google Plus link: https://plus.google.com/100905614042668276073

Newsletter: https://goo.gl/forms/Qh7MUUMhfmqdPupx2

 

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© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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