Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Must Love Lions


Alexis Parrish is very single. Sassy and smart, she's great at her job as a journalist, but it's never given her the time to find the right man--specifically, a human. So when she gets assigned to interview Max, a lion shifter, about the new dating app he's created, she can't believe her intense attraction to him. After all, humans and shifters don't date.

Max is used to causing trouble. He broke tradition by creating the dating app, Shifter, which humans and shifters alike can use to answer the call of the wild.

When Max challenges Alexis to give him a chance, she can't say no. A human like her has no business with this handsome alpha lion, but she can't resist his magnetism. Their chemistry is primal, their connection positively animalistic. After all, once you go shifter, you never go back.

But when a rogue shifter group against interspecies dating targets Alexis, Max will stop at nothing to protect her. It's more than his pride on the line; it's his mate.

Warning: If sassy, sexy, and carnal reads aren't your thing, this book isn't for you. It contains lots of dirty sex, violence, and witty banter.


Free on Kindle Unlimited


Alma Black loves to write, and write and write. She is especially fond of sexy, paranormal stories where the hero has a penchant for growling and the sassy heroine doesn’t put up with any bark. These stories are fast reads and are funny, sexy, and very naughty.
Alma lives in Los Angeles, and wishes with all her heart that there was paranormal dating app that had eligible mates in Southern California. Until then she uses regular dating sites to bring you these stories, inspired by her actual dating life.



Hot and fun, this book was a joy to read.

The Haunting of Hotel Labelle

The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle      
Sharon Buchbinder

Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Fantasy

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Date of Publication: November 16, 2016

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1153-1
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1154-8

Number of pages: 198
Word Count: 48,000

Cover Artist: Rae Monet

Tagline: The past meets the present when a curse turn-of-the-century man meets a feisty modern day woman.

Book Description:

When hotel inspector, Tallulah Thompson, is called in along with her pug, Franny, to investigate renovation delays, she meets an extremely annoyed and dapper turn-of-the-century innkeeper. The only problem is he’s in limbo, neither dead nor alive, and Tallulah and the pug are the first to see him in a hundred years.

Cursed by a medicine woman, “Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Lucius” Stewart is stuck between worlds until he finds his true love and gives her his heart. When he first sees Tallulah, he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Yet, her stunning beauty, and feisty attitude pull him in.

With the fate of Hotel LaBelle on the line, Tallulah with the help of a powerful medicine woman turns Lucius back into a flesh and blood man. She and Lucius team up to save the hotel, but Tallulah can't help but wonder if he will ever let go of his past love and learn to love again.

Amazon    BN     iTunes    Kobo    ARe     Bookstrand
Short Intro:

This short novel gives readers insights into Homeland Security Anomaly Defense Director Bert Blackfeather’s Native American heritage. An in-between book in the Jinni Hunter Series, this is a lighter paranormal tale than the others. Take one Montana innkeeper from an era when men were men and women were glad of it, one sassy hotel inspector with a pug on patrol, and stir in a generous dollop of humor and sexual tension—and you have The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle. Come along to Big Sky Country and enjoy the ride with Tallulah, Lucius, Bert, and his sister, Emma as they join forces to rescue the people and the hotel they love.

Two sentence blurb: Modern day woman, Tallulah Thompson, is the only person to see lost in limbo, “Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Lucius” Stewart in over a century. There’s a way to release him from the spell, but will reversing the curse make things better—or worse?

Key Words: Ghosts, Native American, Medicine Woman, Paranormal, Homeland Security


A book flew at his head—and sailed through him, bouncing off the wall and landing on the floor.
            Mouth agape, the woman stared from him to the book and back to him again. “You’re a ghost.”
            “Not exactly. Shall we start over?” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “After a hundred years of being invisible to everyone except you, I’d like to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”
            “Of course. Why not? Could today get any weirder?” She sank into the desk chair, shook her head, and sighed. “My name is Tallulah Thompson. I’m a hotel inspector, hired by the current owner as a consultant to find out why the renovations are delayed and what he needs to do to fix it. He’s teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.”
            “What tribe are you?”
            She jerked her head up and those doggone lapis lazuli eyes of hers sparked as if she’d strike him with lightning and kill him with one look. “No one asks that. It’s not politically correct.”
            “Well, I guess you haven’t been talking to the right people. And I don’t know what you mean by that last part. I’ve never been involved in politics.”
            “Nowadays, it’s considered rude to ask about another person’s national origins.” She threw her hands up. “Why am I giving a ghost an etiquette lesson? What am I thinking?”


Great story that kept me reading for hours. The characters popped, the dialog was real and I loved the ghost story.

About the Author:

Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. When not teaching or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL.

Twitter ID @sbuchbinder

Tour giveaway

10 Ebooks of The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Crown Jewels

SBPR-CR-BT (1).jpg

Crown Jewels by Ella James Publication Date: November 20th, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Romance

crown jewels.jpg


From USA Today bestseller Ella James...
After that close-up of his package on the sailboat in Morocco, TMZ started calling him Crown Jewels.
Not that I keep track of Prince Liam. Definitely don’t stalk him online like my friends do. I’m out of that scene now. My family’s reality show might still be running, but I’ve been off-screen for a while. When people pass me on the sidewalk, they might squint, but most of them don’t scream “Lucy Rhodes” and ask about my love of Lucky Charms or how my broken toe healed.
Prince Liam—my stalking his Instagram—that’s just for fun. It’s my dirty little secret. Trust me, I’m the only woman in the world who doesn’t actually want him.
Except I’m back in the Hamptons for the first time in two years. I’m at a party, and Prince Manwhore is here as well. I tell myself that smile has no effect on me. That his ridiculous charisma is a parlor trick I see right through.
After our one night together, no one knows that I succumbed. It doesn’t matter. It meant nothing. Not until I see those two pink lines.
** Crown Jewels is an 80,000-word contemporary romance novel with no cliffhanger ending.


LUCY I awaken in darkness. The room is pitch black, and someone’s arm is locked around me. For a blind, horrific second, fear grips my heart, so hard and painful that I gasp. And then I smell him. I’m not sure exactly where I am right at his moment. But I smell aftershave and soap, a little bit of sunscreen and a little bit of sweat, and my body knows it’s him. Prince Liam. Liam, prince of the Isle of Gael, is lying in this bed behind me. A few careful, quiet breaths and I’m pretty sure…he’s sleeping. Holy Hello Kitty. Prince Liam is sleeping next to me. My body flushes, bliss and horror. How’d we get here? What the hell is going on? And then I feel his fingers in my hair. His hand is in my hair—right now! He fell asleep rubbing my hair. My eyes fly to the windows: dark. What time is it? My clutch is somewhere in this room. I’m not sure where. I shut my eyes and try to keep my breathing even as I run the night’s events back through my mind. Downstairs, talking to the Playmate. Bryce. My body jerks at the memory, and I can feel Prince Liam’s body rock a little bit against mine. Big and wide and hard. He’s bowed around me like a shield. Heat blooms in between my legs. I freaked out, and he saw me. I embarrassed myself, walked in on some kind of threesome. Why did he come back? It’s his room, you moron. I’m probably in his guest room. I draw a deep breath in and feel his sturdy arm tighten around me. I feel his face against my neck, the roughness of his scruffy beard. Warmth spreads through me. Then he stirs some more and makes a low sound in his throat. And then I feel his mouth against my neck. His lips— He’s kissing me. I don’t mean to make a sound, but then I feel him press himself against my backside. Terror bubbles in me. “Stop!” I pull away, and he’s awake. His eyes, I see them in the dark. They’re wide. He pushes up on his arm and holds his big hand up. I watch him rub his eyes. He looks around. He looks confused. “You fell asleep,” I offer. He blinks at me as if he didn’t understand my words. Then he reaches for me. He takes my hand and cradles it in his two hands. He looks into my eyes. “Are you all right?” he asks me, voice low, words rolling with that Scottish-sounding accent of his. “I’m fine.” He shakes his head slowly, at least I think I see him do that. Then he’s simply staring at me. With those hazel eyes. Dear God, he’s gorgeous. His hand traces mine. Then he lies back down and pulls me down beside him. He wraps me up against his body, and I notice he’s not pushing his dick against me anymore. “You smell good,” he murmurs. “You have pretty hair.” “Are you drunk?” I think I see his lips twitch. “I don’t get drunk.” I turn around to face him. He pushes some hair off my forehead. Then he kisses me. It’s so gentle, so careful, I can’t help responding. He tastes like cinnamon, like liquor. His mouth explores mine, his tongue gliding past my own, his big hand in my hair again. He kisses me until I can’t breathe, and then he pulls away. “Tá tú álainn.” I frown. He smiles, that gentle, gorgeous smile. “Gaelic.” He tips his forehead to mine. He says something else I don’t understand, then kisses the side of my mouth, his lips feathering gently over mine. I feel his knee move, as if he’s shifting his hips, and I can’t help pulling him closer for another kiss. I touch his shoulders as I kiss him, and I can feel his body tense under my hands. His tongue glides back into my mouth, and he moans. Holy shit. I kiss him deeper and his body rocks against mine. His hands are on my head; he pulls me closer, till we’re pressed together, chest to hips. He says something low and very soft, something that sounds like, “On all that is holy…” Then his hand is on my shoulder, squeezing. His hand is squeezing, then he’s grasping my breast. I grind myself against him, gasping between kisses. My body burns with heat and fear. My heart riots. Adrenaline almost overcomes me at the feel of his hard body up against mine, his chest pumping, his breath warm. I’m losing it when his hand leaves my breast and slides around my hip to cradle me against his body. God, I’ve never been handled this way, as if…I’m everything. He’s rough then gentle, firm then tender, desperate all the while. I can feel the warmth of his breath, can hear the pattern of his ragged inhalations. His scratchy cheek presses against mine, and I can feel his body heat. He leans away, his chest still pumping. I put my hand between his pecs. I can’t help it. He’s so…perfect. My fingertips wander to the seal above his heart, the royal tattoo he got when he was younger. I trace my finger down his chest, and the prince’s abs harden. “Christ.” That was a flinch, I think. I swear to God, I can feel the heat pulse in between my legs. Something overtakes me, something big and brash and heady: power. I rub my fingertip over the hair that trails down toward his pants, and that’s when I see his stiff erection. My brain explodes with memories of perfection wrapped in wet boxer-briefs. I’m not thinking. I just touch. He sucks back a sharp breath. I trace the plump, perfect head, hating the fabric barrier between my hand and his skin. Liam groans, his length jutting toward me. I look into his eyes and find them hazy. “Lucy…” “You want me to touch it?” My voice is sultry, not my voice at all. I’m rubbing him before he has the chance to answer. His breath catches. Then he moans low in his throat and starts to pant. His eyes are shut, I find as I rub his thick cock through his pants. His hand hovers over my mine as if he wants to grab me. His long fingers curl into a fist. I drag my fingers down the length of him, surprised to find he’s even bigger than I thought. His heavy eyelids lift a little. My Lord, he’s fucking gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more perfect male, and this one, shirtless, panting as he presses up against my hand—he turns me on so much I want to screw him. Holy hell, I want to screw Prince Liam. I try to grip him through his pants, fondle his balls, waiting for him to jump up and throw me on the bed. Waiting for him to scare me. But he doesn’t. He just locks his big fist up over my arm and leans his head back on the pillow, groaning through his locked jaw as I unbutton his pants and come to his black boxer-briefs. I can see his head so well. I see the rim of it. I rub a fingertip over it and he mutters a curse. His hand uncurls, the side of his fingers touching my wrist. I reach inside his boxer-briefs and wrap my hand around him. Still, he doesn’t grab my arm. I watch his face as I firm up my grip and stroke him. I can feel his hips tremble. I fold his fly back, try to pull his briefs down. He lifts his hips and pulls them down himself. I look with wide eyes at what has got to be an eight-inch dick and the weighty balls below. Crown Jewels. I touch his balls and watch them draw up underneath my fingertips. I run my hand from the base of his cock back up toward the tip. His eyes open on a deep breath. “Fuck…” Oh my God, is that a little bit of precum? I feel a rush of heat between my own legs as I blink at it. For the first time in two years, I clench. I feel greedy. Needy. Holy hell, I have to have him. My head spins as I climb on top of him, straddling his hips as his eyes rise to meet mine. He flexes beneath me, and a zip of fear streaks through me. That he’ll throw me off and get on top of me. That he’ll grab my wrists and squeeze. Instead, Prince Liam peers up at me with hooded eyes, smiling a pirate’s smile as his hand rubs my knee. I pull my dress up and struggle with my thong. My hands are shaking too hard to pull it off. I rub myself against him, panting. Liam groans. “Christ almighty…” His jaw is locked as he rasps, “Lucy.” Then he rips my thong. He says something else in what I realize must be Gaelic. Then he’s reaching down, stroking himself. With the fingers of his other hand, he parts my lips. He rubs a finger over me, making me tremble. “Fuck, you’re beautiful…” I don’t know how he knows because his eyes are shut, but I love the way his face looks. Suddenly it’s all I can do to stay still. And then I can’t. I’m shaking as I pull his cock away from his amazing abs. My legs quiver as I rise up, holding his shaft, pushing his thick head against my entrance. His lips are parted now, his eyes still shut. I sink down on him inch by slow, amazing inch and watch him writhe, knees coming up around me as I take him deep—so deep I can’t help crying out. His hands squeeze my hips, not to hard. And then he’s lifting me off him, his muscular arms straining so my legs don’t have to. His powerful abs ripple with each thrust: he rises just a little, letting me sink down on him. I put my hands over his and use my legs to rise and fall, taking control of things. Taking control because I have to. He doesn’t let me fully. Liam sets the pace, his big breaths punctuating the rhythm of our thrusting. I’m rising up, using the well-honed muscles of my thighs, but his hands around my hips are lifting, too. When I sink, I lean over, pinching his nipples sometimes, reaching around behind myself to cup his balls. His groans are loud and ragged. His face is tense, almost pained, and I love it when I feel the goose-bumps on his diamond-chiseled hips. Then he changes something up… Changes the angle. When he fills me up…I lose control. I can’t stop the sounds from pouring from my throat. Can’t stop the way I lean sideways against his raised knee, gripping it with my arm. I hear a whimper, and it’s mine. “Oh God!” I’m so full. I don’t think I’ve ever been this full before… “That’s right,” he murmurs, thrusting harder. When he pulls out and lifts me up, I’m desperate for him, scrambling to get back on that huge cock. My skin tingles with sweat. My mouth is open; I can’t breathe— I feel him harden, swell and tighten, stretching me. When I’m filled with him, I grind around. “Oh my God!” I’m right there on the edge. He draws me off him, and I fumble to grab onto his arms and press myself back down. My fingers graze his hips, and then he pushes me down hard. I’m filled so deep and full, my body starts to quake. My stomach quivers, and my eyes flip open just in time to find he’s watching me. His lips are curved, his eyes lust-hazed. I do the only thing I can think of to equalize the situation, reaching around behind myself again to roll his big balls in my shaking fingers. One roll, followed by a gentle tug. I feel his cock thump hard inside me, causing me to lean down on him. That’s where I lie as heat fills me: there across his flawless chest. For just a second, his hands cup my face. His eyes linger on mine, his mouth still open with pleasure, his thick pecs rising under me. “Luce. Goddamn.” It’s an exultation. I feel so good there on him, I can’t move for a long moment. He just came inside me, and it feels so right. I marvel at how…fine I feel. How tired and good and…good. I stroke my nails up his side. “Mmm.” I grin. Liam laughs, a throaty sound. I feel his lips on my forehead as he leans up, the quick swipe of his palm over my hair. “You are fucking perfect, Lucy Rhodes.” He pushes up on one elbow, holding me against him for a moment, one big arm around me. Then I’m easing off him, and he’s moving lithely off the bed. “Let me get you something.” I sink into the covers, waiting for the fallout: for a shudder, for a sob. But nothing comes. He returns smirking, and grins broadly when our eyes meet. Instead of handing me the warm, wet cloth, he delves under the covers, his knuckles grazing my belly as he spreads the cloth over me and lays his hand there, as if offering some wordless blessing over my vagina. I start laughing, and he laughs with me. “You’re a real prince, Liam.” He grins. “I’ve been told.” And it’s so natural, I don’t feel funny cleaning up under the covers with him there beside me. I stretch out on my back, catching my breath. I’m thinking how sad I’ll be to get up when he lies beside me, his big shoulder bumping mine. “You were incredible,” he says in a gravelly voice. And somehow, it’s not patronizing or weird. Just very, very genuine. I giggle like a dumb teenager. He turns over on his side, propping his head in his hand as he looks down on me. Then he lies back flat, wraps an arm around me, pulls me close, and kisses just under my ear. One of his legs rubs mine. He makes a soft, male sound, then falls asleep as if we do this every night. I lie awake staring at him in the darkness. Who is this man? I run my open palm over his hair, which he let down sometime when I wasn’t looking. He relaxes just a little more against me, and I like it. That’s the last thought that I have before I wake up to an empty bed.


Spicy and hot, this read will keep you turning the pages into the night. Loved it!

It meant nothing (1).jpg

Add to Goodreads

AN (7).png

Purchase Links:

About the Author:

Ella James is the USA Today bestselling author of fifteen teen and adult love stories. She's an angst-a-holic who loves exploring difficult situations and the emotions of the people caught up in them. Also, smut. But always, always romance.
Ella's obsessions include vanilla cream soda, hiking, other obscure, crunchy stuff like rock collecting, and the antics of her 2.5 little monsters. (Monsters 1 and 2 will meet Monster 3 in November).

Connect with Ella:

The Pawn

pawn_banner THE PAWN by Skye Warren is available for preorder EVERYWHERE! “Positively sinful, and outrageously sexy! Emotions run high and readers will be left gasping.” – New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones
PREORDER NOW: ❧ Amazon: ❧ iBooks: ❧ Barnes & Noble: ❧ Kobo:
"Sinfully sexy and darkly beautiful, The Pawn will play games with your heart and leave you craving more!" - Laura Kaye, New York Times bestselling author The price of survival... Gabriel Miller swept into my life like a storm. He tore down my father with cold retribution, leaving him penniless in a hospital bed. I quit my private all-girl's college to take care of the only family I have left. There's one way to save our house, one thing I have left of value. My virginity. A forbidden auction... Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he's the only kindness in a brutal underworld. Except he's playing a deeper game than I know. Every move brings us together, every secret rips us apart. And when the final piece is played, only one of us can be left standing. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * THE PAWN is a full-length contemporary novel from New York Times bestselling author Skye Warren about revenge and seduction in the game of love. It's the first book in the brand new ENDGAME series.
And one lucky reader will win a $125 Gift Card to Amazon to buy even more books
About the Author:
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.
Contact Skye:

Three Sweet Nothings

Three Sweet Nothings is coming on December 12th - your dirty sweet tooth will thank you! Keep reading for an extra hot excerpt!

Preorder NOW:

Amazon US: Amazon UK: iBooks:

Five years ago, we’d been together and on fire, but the flames burned us both. Now she’s back in my life and is all my wildest fantasies in the flesh. I want her. The desire is too powerful to argue against, but I’m not interested in what we had. This is an arrangement about pleasure and finding out who we are behind closed doors. There won’t be talk of love or any sweet nothings whispered by either of us. This time, I’ll control the heat between us and make sure neither of our hearts get too close to the flames.
I grasped Ruby’s hips and dropped a final kiss on her mouth. “Turn around,” I said, using the most seductive voice I had. “Finish what you were doing.” She rotated slowly in my hold until her back was to me. Then she picked up the sifter with one hand, and turned the crank on the side with her other. Perfect. I skated my fingers along the waistline of her jeans, moving steadily toward the front, putting my arms around her. Her voice was all-knowing. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry about it.” I popped the button free at the top of her fly, and nuzzled my way into the crook of her neck. The loose hairs that had slipped out of her ponytail tickled my nose. She shivered when my mouth connected with her soft skin. Did she smell like vanilla because of her baking, or because she was just fucking delicious? “Oh,” she sighed, and the sifter slowed to a distracted crawl. I nibbled the curve of her neck while inching down her zipper. My voice was sinful. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, and you’re already losing focus.” The crank resumed its noisy turning, but she tilted her head to the side, granting me more access to feast on her neck. Every little shudder and sigh she gave was so fucking sexy. I wanted to devour her. When her task appeared to be done, I slid my hand down the front of her undone jeans and eased my fingers inside her panties. Jesus, she was wet already, and my cock hardened. I pressed it against the flat of her ass, letting her feel what she did to me. “Oh, God,” she jerked when I twitched my fingers. The metal sifter clattered on the counter so she could brace herself with her hands. I sucked hard on her neck, not caring if I gave her a hickey like I was a goddamn teenage boy. I wasn’t above marking her as mine. That was what she’d be after tonight. I was already hooked on her, so it only seemed fair. Her hands gripped the counter’s edge so furiously, they went white as I traced my fingers over her damp clit. Her head tilted and lolled backward until it was heavy on my shoulder. Ruby’s eyes were closed and her mouth open so she could suck in labored breaths. “What’s next?” I asked. “You need to add the flour to the eggs?” She nodded, not even opening her eyes, although she made a face. Like my question was annoying and had disturbed her contentment. “Then get to it.” I withdrew my hand and gripped the sides of her jeans and panties. I jerked them down her long legs, revealing her beautiful, creamy skin. We were right beside the mixer and it meant she didn’t have to walk anywhere, which was good. Her jeans and underwear were wadded around her ankles. She looked amazing like this. The long sweater stopped just where her cheeks did, and it teased me with flashes of the bottom of her ass whenever she moved. I grabbed the oven mitts I’d thrown off, put them on the floor behind her, and knelt on them, giving me a much better view of her perfect ass. There was noise from the counter above. She’d pulled a clean rubber spatula from the dish rack and, in her haste, she’d nearly dumped the whole thing over. I fanned my hands around the globes of her bottom and squeezed, causing her to jolt once again. She was so cute. Flustered and sexy, but she was standing up straight. “Bend over a little. I need to see that pussy, sweetheart.” Whoa. A rush of memories came flooding back. When we’d been together, I’d called her sweetheart occasionally. It slipped out now before I could stop it. A habit that wouldn’t die, or something more? She followed my command, leaning over, and it caused the sweater to lift and expose more of her nakedness. She was all pink, and lush, and mine. “Oh, fuck.” She gasped the words as I bent forward and buried my face in the seam of her legs. “Kyle. I can’t do anything when you’re doing that.” “You can, and you will. Finish,” I gave her a playful bite on a cheek, “or you don’t get to.” She groaned, both in satisfaction and frustration as I resumed teasing her with my tongue. She tasted so good. Sweet. Perfect. A taste I couldn’t get enough of.
About the Author:
Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, is married with two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.
Stalk Nikki:

Ghost Walking

Book Description:

Not believing won't make the ghosts go away.

New Orleans' homicide cop Maggie York is at the top of her game until a sniper's bullet changes everything. She flatlines, comes back. But not quite the same. She sees and hears things...ghostly things. And she blurts out enough to her doctors to end up on medical leave with a diagnosis of PTSD. If only.

Six months later, the voices have faded and the ghostly sightings are less frequent. The department still won't let Maggie return to the job. Oh, she's quit talking about ghosts, except to a few friends and the loony relatives who believe she's a witch, but Maggie doubts herself. Since inactivity is making it worse, she sets out to track down her shooter, only things get complicated...a ghostly witness wants his own murder solved, and sexy homicide cop, Josh Brandt—who just happens to be her replacement—wants her to butt out of his case.

After Josh catches her at the murder scene of a key witness, he wonders how the attractive redhead is staying one step ahead of him and how deeply her involvement goes. She doesn't appear as unstable as he's been told, but she's hiding something. He recognizes the signs...because he has secrets of his own. Unraveling her case soon draws them down twisted but intersecting paths.

And failure may cost Maggie her life.


Maggie’s gaze sharpened as the old crime scene routine fell into place. Discarded clothing near an old washing machine, empty beer cans. Hurst and his girlfriend hadn’t been especially tidy, but she’d seen worse. The kitchen was clutter-free except for an empty pizza box on the counter. Large. Smelled like pepperoni. The fridge contained three takeout cartons of leftovers—gumbo, red beans, something indefinable—a quart of milk, half used, and three beer cans in the plastic holder from a six-pack. Apparently no one cooked.

She entered the hallway. A check of the guest bedroom and a glance in the living room yielded nothing unusual, only the expected drawer or cushion out of place due to the police search.

She’d left the main bedroom for last.

The bodies were gone and the bed stripped. She knelt to look under the bed, but anything on the floor and nightstand had been bagged and removed to the lab. Otherwise, it was much as she remembered. Ten by ten, holding a full-size bed and one dresser. She moved across the room to check the closet…and heard a floorboard creak in the hallway.

Maggie froze, her heart hammering. Someone was in the house. She hadn’t been particularly silent, so they must know she was there. Why so quiet? She glided back to the door, the SIG Sauer already in her hand. When the hardwood floor emitted a second small sound, she whipped around the corner, pointing her gun at the intruder.

And faced the deadly end of a Beretta, held by a tall man with compelling, steel-blue eyes. The air vibrated with energy…and for one long moment, they stared at one another.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Police. And you?” The voice was cool, richly masculine.

She took in the dark blue jacket over a white shirt open at the collar, a loose tie slightly askew, and his black hair just long enough that an unruly strand curled over his forehead.

“Show me your badge.” She was stalling for time. Maggie didn’t doubt the confident, intense man on the other end of the gun was a cop. A very good-looking cop who wasn’t the least bit happy to find her there. How could she explain her presence?

He flipped open his jacket with one hand, revealing the badge clipped to his belt. “Detective Brandt. Now put down your gun and back away from it.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, but the or else was loud and clear. She nodded, slipped the safety on, and set the weapon on the floor, keeping her hands where he could see them.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

She figured he’d soon find out anyway, so she told him the truth—albeit a limited version. “Assessing the murder scene. The male victim was involved in my own shooting.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed, but the gun didn’t waver. “Should I know you?”

She shrugged. “I’m Maggie York.”


Ally Shields is a Midwestern writer with a love for mystery and the paranormal. Following a career in law and juvenile justice, she took up full-time writing in 2009. In 2012 her first paranormal was published, and she has two completed urban fantasy series. Ally loves to travel and includes many of those settings in her novels. Readers are welcome—and encouraged—to contact her through her website or track her down on Twitter. (@ShieldsAlly).

Author Links

Buy Links

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, November 28, 2016

Cover Reveal: Blackbird by Molly McAdams

Title: Blackbird
Author: Molly McAdams
Series: A Redemption Novel
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Releasing February 28th, 2017

Cover Design: r.b.a DESIGNS

“Consuming. Enthralling. Sexy. MIND-BLOWING. From the very first line to the very last page, Blackbird sank into me and didn’t let me go. This is Molly McAdams at her best! A must-read that will have you questioning all your emotions as you fall in love with this unforgettable story.” – New York Times bestselling author, AL Jackson

From New York Times bestselling author Molly McAdams comes a powerhouse romantic suspense that will have you questioning your morals and second guessing your view on love.
I live in a world few know exist. I’ve trained for this. I know what to say, what to do, and how to act. I’ve perfected the lethal calm required for this life.
Now it’s time to buy my first girl. But all it takes is one look at the brave girl who starts singing mid-auction for that calm to slip.
Briar Chapman is going to be the death of me, and I don’t care. I’ll take every day with her until that death comes, and I’ll welcome it when it does.
On the outside, Lucas Holt is what nightmares are made of. A man cloaked in darkness, with sin-filled eyes and an enticing grin. A devil so devastatingly beautiful and cruel that his very presence instills fear.
But beneath his terrifying, ever-calm exterior is an affectionate man haunted by a past that refuses to stay buried. And Lucas looks at me as though he’s finally found the only person who can make it all go away.
We’re a battle of the brightest day and the darkest night—and I want to lie in the wake of our war.

Exclusive iBooks Pre-Order

Read a SAMPLE of BLACKBIRD on iBooks!

Molly grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband, daughter, and fur babies. When she’s not diving into the world of her characters, some of her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling, and long walks on the beach … which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies and fried pickles, and loves curling up in a fluffy comforter during a thunderstorm … or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren’t really happening.
Sign up for Molly’s Newsletter

After We Fall


After We Fall by Melanie Harlow Publication Date: November 28th, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Romance



Jack Valentini isn’t my type.
Sexy, brooding cowboys are fine in the movies, but in real life, I prefer a suit and tie. Proper manners. A close shave.
Jack might be gorgeous, but he’s also scruffy, rugged, and rude. He wants nothing to do with a “rich city girl” like me, and he isn’t afraid to say so.
But I’ve got a PR job to do for his family’s farm, so he’s stuck with me for ten days, and I’m stuck with him. His glares. His moods. His tight jeans. His muscles.
His huge, hard muscles.
Pretty soon there’s a whole different kind of tension between us, the kind that has me misbehaving in barns, trees, and pickup trucks. I’ve never done anything so out of character—but it feels too good to stop.
And the more I learn about the grieving ex-Army sergeant, the better I understand him. Losing his wife three years ago left him broken and bitter and blaming himself. He doesn’t think he deserves a second chance at happiness.
But he’s wrong.
I don’t need to be his first love. If only he’d let me be his last.
“Second chances are not given to make things right, but are given to prove that we could be even better after we fall.” —Unknown


Add to Goodreads


Purchase Links:

Amazon US: Coming Soon Amazon UK: Coming Soon iBooks: Nook:

About the Author:

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.
Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

Connect with Melanie: