Fathoms of Forgiveness by Nadia Scrieva ~Promo~

Fathoms of Forgiveness - PROMO Blitz

By Nadia Scrieva

Paranormal Romance - Epic Fantasy

Date Published: March 2012

Meet the brave and fearless Visola; a woman unlike any you've ever encountered. Her wit and humor take her through the darkest of dangers with a smile always on her face--and her smile only grows larger as the odds become more impossible. With no concern for her own safety, Visola dives headfirst into the throes of battle to protect the people and country she loves, even if it means facing her worst enemy--the one man who can get inside her head and break her down like no other: her own husband...       

There is no divorce in the undersea kingdom of Adlivun. Marriage is a bond that lasts until death--even if death comes in several centuries, and in that time your spouse happens to become your sworn enemy. This is the conflict that General Visola Ramaris faces when she learns that the mighty Vachlan is behind the attacks on her kingdom. She has sworn to protect Adlivun with her life, but long ago, she also swore to love and honor her husband...

Visola must choose whether she will destroy Vachlan once and for all, or attempt the hardest thing conceivable: communication. After two hundred years of desertion, she knows she can never forgive him. When he threatens the person dearest to her, she must take action. Confronting Vachlan on enemy territory would be nothing short of suicide. She knows that if she falls into his custody, the deranged mercenary would relish torturing her and making her lose her own sanity.

Princess Aazuria forbids Visola from taking matters into her own hands. She will do anything it takes to protect her friend from the man who wants to crush her. Alas, Visola is a crazy, uncontrollable warrior with the blood of Vikings in her veins. Why would she ever consider doing the safe and predictable thing?

EXCERPT

When Aazuria entered the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to Visola’s wild red hair, which had recently been a lustrous mass of audacious curls. Now, her hair was limp. It hung against her head flat, frizzy and defeated. Aazuria’s eyes darted to the warrior’s sunken cheekbones and gaunt face. She saw the bruises on Visola’s neck before her eyes traveled further to the withered, wasted limbs. Every visible part of her friend’s body was covered in fresh scars. She saw the bandaged hands. Visola had been starved and tortured.

Perhaps in these modern times, even under the surface of the sea, kings, queens, and the aristocracy had close to zero significance. Perhaps the words and decrees which left Aazuria’s mouth would have minimal consequences. No one in the throne room felt this way as they awaited Aazuria’s judgment with bated breath. Sionna was standing aside, with her arms crossed. The newly-crowned queen gripped her husband’s sword tightly in her fist as Trevain and Elandria entered the room behind her.

Aazuria shifted her eyes to the man standing beside her friend. Her face was expressionless.

“Approach me, Vachlan,” she whispered.

The man began walking toward her. Although his stride was dignified, there was hesitation on his face. Visola began speaking, pleading words which Aazuria could not hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

When Vachlan was close enough to strike, Aazuria gazed at him with death in her eyes.

“Kneel,” she commanded him. Her chest was rising and falling perceptibly.

Vachlan knew that this would be a very unwise thing to do, but he owed it to Aazuria. He owed it to Visola, and to Adlivun—the nation he had once called home.  He lowered his head and dropped to one knee before the queen, saluting her across his chest. His eyes were level with the sword she held, and he could see the veins bulging through her translucent pale skin from how tightly she clutched it.

“It would be futile to order you punished,” she said slowly. “No one can even attempt to hurt you as much as you have hurt her.”

“I know,” he answered quietly.

“But it is my duty to try.”

She struck out with her sword, slicing the air until the blade collided with his face, knocking Vachlan off his knees and onto the floor. Aazuria could vaguely hear Visola screaming for her to stop, but she was already standing over Vachlan and forcing the tip of her sword between his teeth. Her previous strike had resulted in a huge bleeding gash along the side of his handsome face, but it had not been enough to kill him. She was poised to finish the job.

Vachlan moved his tongue against the steel, tasting the freshly-sharpened metal edge garnished with the metallic taste of his own blood. It is rare that the wine so perfectly accompanies the main dish, he thought as he swallowed the coppery fluid accumulating in his mouth. Kind of like a German Pinot Noir. He looked into the azure eyes of Adlivun’s queen and realized that this was no longer the innocent, charitable philanthropist he had known hundreds of years ago. She was hard. He wondered what percentage of the tempered rage behind her eyes he was responsible for generating.

“One reason.” Aazuria was demanding. “Give me one convincing reason that I should not thrust my blade directly through your skull.”

Nadia Scrieva

Nadia Scrieva lives in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no pets. She does own a very attractive houseplant which she occasionally remembers to water between her all-consuming writing marathons.

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This Blitz is brought to you by Reading Addiction Book Tours

The Care Feeding of SEX Demons by Angela Fiddler ~Tour~

The Care and Feeding of Sex Demons

Author: Angela Fiddler

Publisher: Loose Id

Pages: 180

Language: English

Genre: Paranormal Erotica

Format: eBook

Purchase at AMAZON

Keeping a sex demon happy and sexually satisfied is always the safest option, even if Cy has his own relationship issues. When saving the world on a regular basis, a happy home is important, especially when mixing human, fae princes and a starving sex demon.

MY OPINION:

I found this book to be rather interesting to say the least.

I'll be totally honest I didn't quite understand what really was going on in the beginning because you're kinda just thrown right into Cy's life and "Bam" the adventure begins.

It does have a lot snark and snide comedy that I really enjoyed. The over all story-line didn't quite do it for me as I got lost way too many times with what was happening and then just got tired trying to follow along. I did however enjoy the characters. I loved Patrick and August....it was interesting the fact a sex demon within a relationship, but they don't get along, yet underline they do....lol

Cy, on the other hand...how messed upon so many levels...man oh man!!!

I guess if I re-read this a few more times I would have a better love for the story-line, I mean it's all there and maybe I'm just being harsh...the characters I know are yelling at me "You evil BLEEP.....!!!!" or are getting ready to throw charms or worst yet have poison my Burger King coffee as I type.

I suggest everyone read this at least on their own as my view will be difference from someone else' and another yet different from another and so on.....

Book Excerpt:

When rotten fish and bile smell of the ambergris met… well, you know what sulfur smells like, the whole sky lit as fragrantly as it did brightly. Just like the old days. Evil came in different flavors but it all smelled badly. I was ready for whatever came out of that cloud. But the only threat was a different kind of bad smell. My agents replaced three quarters of the whale vomit with earwax at the source to cut costs. We didn’t know it would also save the world.

My boyfriend, Patrick, had insisted the bad guys would now the difference and that I was risking my life to make the switch, but the person picking up the ambergris from my agent hadn’t known what it was supposed to look or smell like either. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. My brilliant planning was supposed to have helped out my team, not me, personally.

After the sky fizzled out, the warlock had exploded in a billion, billion...billion? I had no idea. I wasn't a physicist, I was an apocalypse stopper. Calculating how many photons contained within whatever warlock the Internet coughed up this week wasn’t in my job description. No scientist would ever read my paperwork.

I was retired from active duty. I was only supposed to administrate the real apocalypse stoppers. I'd been out scouting for possible altar locations when the world-ending had started early. The exploded warlock had been as surprised as I was until he had been unmade.

And he took my company car with him.

When the apocalypse had started, my first thought had been oh, good.

Patrick was going to kill me.

The cow walking along side me looked as though nature has squared off her body. If cartoon physics were correct her cross-sections would look like T-bone steaks. The highway I walked beside stretched on ribbons, rolling over the endless hills in the high country. The cow had been following me for a while just on the other side of the barbed wire fence. Three hours of constant adrenaline had left my fine-reasoning skills somewhat stripped, but I was fairly sure it wasn’t a threat. It reached the end of the fenced in field and regurgitated some cud.

I wanted breakfast, too. My back hurt, my shins ached, and the dried mud on the legs of my suit added twenty pounds to each step. My boss had even forced me to wear dress shoes to the stupid meet-and-greet that had turned into a scream-and-run.

Another red car appeared in the distance, but I didn’t get my hopes up. Because the high powers above loved to mock my life choices, the last three cars that appeared in the past hour had all been small, two-seaters, and red.

It bobbed up and down on the ribbons.  I had a blister on the back of my foot. I wanted to stop walking, but that would almost guarantee the car wasn’t Patrick’s.

On the last rise, the turn signals came on, and the car started slowing down. Patrick had a meeting with one of the major charm-makers in town. He’d been worried about it for weeks, but once the rogue warlock who was sourcing his hanged-man pancreas through craigslist had run out of his ambergris, the hell-fire had stopped. The warlock had brought a full truck’s worth of sulfur, but without enough of the catalyst ambergris, it fizzed out before summoning even a hell-puppy, forget a hell-beast. Exploding into subatomic particles was an easier death than having a summoned-but-not-contained denizen of hell munching on parts of you from a watching-your-own-death happen perspective.

We had a lot of specific terms in our business. We used a lot of dashes.

Patrick and I had been together for five years, and yet when I asked him if I had woken him up just before dawn before his biggest meeting of the year, he lied and told me he’d been awake the whole time. I wouldn’t have lied to him.

Patrick slowed down, but didn’t stop, so neither did I. He didn’t unroll the window until I couldn’t pretend my shoes weren’t hurting my feet which every step.

“Get in the car, Cy,” Patrick said.

He drove on another couple feet and stopped, so I still had to limp to get in. He didn’t even wait for me to do up my seatbelt before he pulled the sports car into a U-turn. I’d been on a single lane highway, but the tiny car had no problem completing the circle on the road with its tiny wheel base.

The silence was worse than the million questions he had every right to ask me. He didn’t ask. I wanted to crack a window to let some of the tension out, but it wouldn’t actually affect the air pressure.

Neighborhoods surged beyond the city limits like massive muffin tops. Some groups subdivisions were love handles by now. Calgary needed a bigger edge to contain everything inside of it. “Have you eaten?” Patrick asked.

 “I’ll grab something at the house.”

 “I’m not dropping you off at the house. I have to be in at the university in twenty minutes. There’s a C-train station there.”

My feet were killing me. I just wanted to go home, and I’d bought the fucking car. I put my head against the back of the seat. “I’ll get a cab.”

Patrick exhaled, sharply. I hadn’t meant anything at all by wanting to hire a car to take me home.

“What wrong?”

“You promised me you were going to be in a supervisory position. In what role is the supervisor supposed to be involved in a standard apocalypse prevention attempt? You have minions. They should have singed eyebrows right now, not you.”

I reached up to touch my face. Mud flaked off. I would get the car detailed, but I  didn’t really have the time, which meant Patrick would have to get it done for me, which meant he was cleaning up after my mess again. We’d just had that talk. So that meant he’d do it for me. I wondered if it had occurred to him not to answer the phone when I called. “It was just supposed to be a dry run. He just recited his incantations better than most. As far as we knew—"

 “Do not sit there and tell me that you have a clue as to what your boss knows. It’s far more like Ms. Gwen to know it was supposed to be tonight all along than it is that this was all just a misunderstanding.”

Patrick swung into a fast-food restaurant parking lot. “You normally call your demon when you get into shit and you don’t want me to know about it. Was he not picking up?”

I flushed. August was my sex demon. He’d been given to me at the end of a successful job back when Patrick and I had two separate addresses. It had been after the house fire so technically I had an address, but no place to live.

Patrick had bright red hair. When I met him, his arms and legs had been too long for his body in a way that I found adorable. He moved with coils of energy. In the past five years he’d left his early twenties behind and he finished filling out all the way. Now everything looked in perfect proportion.

 “I got you coffee,” Patrick said, motioning to the white coffee container in the two-cup holder. It hadn’t been sipped from either.” Alarm bells went off. “What, do you think I poisoned it?”  

“No,” I said truthfully. But he would have had to do something to it, or he would have sipped on it on the way out of the city. Patrick hated mornings.  He grabbed it and took a big swallow. “Happy?”

About the Author:

Angela Fiddler wrote her first erotic novel as a birthday present to a friend who had requested kneeling and vampires.  While the vampires come and go in the story, the kneeling remains.  Angela likes smut, dark humor and stories that mix erotica with raw emotion.  She talks about writing and her characters at www.angelafiddler.com.

Her latest book is the paranormal erotica, The Care and Feeding of Sex Demons.

Connect & Socialize with Angela!

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Angel to the Rescue by Petie McCarty ~Blitz and Giveaway~

Contemporary Romance

Date Published: 12/11/2013

Child psychologist Rachel Kelly isn't quite sure how to handle the situation with her newest client -- a six-year-old boy who says he can talk to angels and one is coming to help Rachel. She already has her hands full of trouble this Christmas season, and things quickly take a turn for the worse when a stalker crashes Rachel's Christmas party and takes her young clients hostage.

Police negotiator, Lt. Jake Dillon, walked away from his fiancée Rachel when she suddenly balked at having kids. His kids. Yet when the hostage crisis erupts, Rachel calls Jake first. Now he has a choice to make -- stand back and wait for the cavalry to save Rachel or step in and try to save her himself. Time is running out, and Jake may be their only chance for rescue.

Unless Rachel's little angel-spying client is telling the truth…

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EXCERPT

Jake whipped his BMW into the Azalea Center parking lot and switched off his headlights in one smooth motion. Clutch depressed and guided by the light from the few streetlamps, he coasted to a stop next to Wally's jeep though his emotions had tempted him to come screeching around the corner like the cavalry. Common sense and the need for stealth had won out. He couldn't risk driving the trespasser underground only to have him surface later when Jake had left. 

Clicking off his interior lights, he pulled his Sig Sauer from the glove compartment, then climbed out and pushed his car door in until the latch quietly held. He waited several seconds to let his eyes and ears take in the entire scene. All the landscaping crowded around the Center provided a multitude of places for a trespasser to hide. 

He touched the hood of Wally's jeep. Still warm, even in the cold night air. A brief stab of guilt hit him for leaving his team so abruptly in the Beef n' Brew. Couldn't be helped. 

His gaze scanned the closest landscape beds for some sign of Wally. A stiff north breeze whipped across the parking area and stirred up leaves and debris. Barely visible through the treetops, the almost-full moon blazed bright. 

He made his way past the large perimeter oaks to the interior sidewalk where he began a circle of the building, checking sections of garden as he paced. All the offices on the west side of the building were unoccupied, and all windows were dark, a few with vestiges of their interiors visible from adjacent emergency lighting.

Rachel's office faced the back of the property just around the corner. At this time of night, her office interior would be entirely visible with her lights on. Jake knew because he'd snuck over here enough times in the last few months to observe her office from the garden. He was pitiful and every few weeks, had needed a glimpse of her to get by. A wry smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. He could've been called in as a trespasser on any one of those nights should anyone have spotted him and cared enough to make the call. 

Careful to remain off the sidewalk, he silently eased his way toward the back garden. If the trespasser was a stalker, then the perp probably knew the Center had no security guard and no security system -- a fact that had always bothered Jake. 

He reached the back corner of the property and crossed the sidewalk to inspect the landscape areas adjacent to the building. Two quick steps and he shifted from one landscape bed to another. He crouched as he left the larger Camellias and moved through the shorter azaleas and Indian hawthorn. 

Clearing the corner, his position was now even with the back of the building. He paused to reconnoiter and stared at the faint pool of light cast by an overhead office -- Rachel's office.

As his gaze rose to the second-floor office, his eyes searched for the all-too-familiar figure. Without thinking, he straightened to his full height, clearly visible to anyone glancing out the window. Yet no one searched for a figure in the garden. All eyes in the office were busy. 

Rachel stood with Olivia and her children on one side of the conference room. On the other side of the room, a man in a worn red jacket and baseball cap faced them -- pointing a gun.

This was Jake's horrible nightmare.

Petie McCarty

Petie earned a zoology degree from the University of Central Florida and enjoys her “day” job as an aquatic biologist at "The Most Magical Place on Earth." Petie is a member of Romance Writers of America, and she shares homes in Tennessee and Florida with her horticulturist husband, a spoiled-rotten English Springer spaniel, and a noisy Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in Angel to the Rescue.

Petie has three other books released with Desert Breeze Publishing: Everglades, Catch of the Day, and No Going Back, recently named a 2014 EPIC eBook Award Finalist for the category of Contemporary Romance.

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