Cover Reveal & Release Blitz – Before Time a New Adult Tragic Romance by author Xunaira J

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Before Time
SERIES – The Time Series
AUTHOR – Xunaira J.
GENRE – New Adult / Tragic Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – 22nd November 2014
PUBLISHER – Amazon

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

His eyes told her what his tongue could not.

Nineteen-year-old Onaiza Shahid is a loner and a dreamer, bookish and socially isolated. A chance ramble into a chatting software changes everything. The words of a stranger compel her. Addicted and falling fast, their secret love changes her life. But will the idealistic teenager get her happily ever after?

Before Time - Book Cover

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK
GOODREADS – SHELFARI

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AUTHOR BIO

As a thirteen year old teenager, Xunaira J. aspired to be an author someday. From short stories to novellas, she has written them all but as an adult now, she has published two short stories and is now aiming to publish her first Novel, Before Time, scheduled for November release. Xunaira resides in Islamabad, Pakistan and enjoys a hot cup of cappuccino, a good romance novel and her favorite music from the 80′s. Apart from that, when she’s not working on her current literary project, she loves developing mobile applications and studies as a software engineer.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE – BLOGFACEBOOK
TWITTER – GOOGLE+PINTEREST – GOODREADS
SHELFARI – OTHERS

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Blast – To Avenge Her Highland Warrior (Highland Fae Chronicles #3) by Samantha Holt

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – To Avenge Her Highland Warrior
SERIES – Highland Fae Chronicles #3
AUTHOR – Samantha Holt
GENRE – Historical Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – 18th October
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 60000

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Lorna lost everything to war. Her home, her wealth… her lover. And now she wants revenge.

When her hasty plan throws her at the mercy of her enemy’s men, she holds little hope of returning to her kin and fears death is around the corner. But could her salvation lie in the arms of her dark captor?

Logan has little time to be dealing with a stubborn noble woman. His orders are to prepare for war. His laird—the man he owes his life to—intends to join forces with the Norse and bring a battle to Scotland that will see the fate of the country forever changed. Scarred, and with no memory of his past, Logan is determined to forge a new future for himself as well as prove his loyalty to the laird.

But the beautiful lass has him questioning his previous life and his goals. When she starts claiming he once loved her, he knows he’s being manipulated and she’s taking advantage of his memory loss. So why is it so hard to resist the idea of having once been her lover?

With the threat of impending war—a battle that promises to bring slaughter to her family—can Lorna persuade Logan to believe her, and is the bitter man he’s become even worth saving?

Whatever the outcome of the battle, a certain interfering faery is resolved to see fate back on its correct path. And that means forcing Lorna and Logan together—no matter their differences.

To Avenge - Book Cover

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK 

 

EXCERPT

Logan clenched his jaw and the roar of the storm sounded closer. He had to leave yet his feet refused to move. Why stay? Why torture himself further? His heart pounded against his chest. In the next flash, he was close once more. Within touching distance. He saw her features more clearly now. The distress in her eyes, the golden strands of hair curling around her pointed chin. The fan of her lashes lowered and lifted in one slow sweep until her gaze locked onto his.
“Logan,” she whispered, voice tremulous, but he did not know if that was a plea for him to leave or come closer.
“Logan,” she tried again.
The shaky quality of her voice pulled at his gut. His gaze traced the curl that flowed over one shoulder and down, caressing her gentle curves like a lover—like he once had apparently. His palms tingled with the need to feel the soft give of her flesh beneath him.
The next flash highlighted her trembling form. The fragile hollow of her neck fluttered with her pulse and his mouth grew dry with the need to press his lips to it.
Damn her. Like a siren, she lured him in.
He almost backed away. How long they had been standing like that he knew not. It may have been moments—a mere few flashes of lightening—but the thickening of the air between them seemed to slow time.
The tremble of her lips gripped his heart, squeezed it hard and painfully. An aggravating need to take care of her ate into him, softened him to her.
Logan closed the gap. The next rumble lined up with him gripping her upper arms and pushing her back against the wall. She gasped, the sound clear to him even as the skies crashed about them. Hot anger mingled with need. It burned through him and set his nerve endings alight. How dare she have such a hold over him, how dare she make him want her?
Soft, delicate breasts pressed against him. Slim thighs quaked against his. With a hiss of breath, he lowered his mouth to hers as she stared up at him. Before his lips met hers, her eyes flashed with a plea, but was she begging him to kiss her or leave her be? He couldn’t decide what he wanted either, but she left him with little choice.
The first touch made him wonder if he had not indeed been struck by lightning. Frissons shot through him, curled into his blood and fired his fury and lust. Lorna released a tiny sound and he pressed his lips hard to hers this time. She whimpered. Her lips felt hot beneath his. Her taste threatened to drown him.
Satisfaction settled in his gut when she arched into him. He kept hold of her arms, allowing little movement but that up thrust of breasts and hips into him made him hiss and press harder. He coaxed her lips apart, and she gasped when he invaded the heated recesses of her mouth. Logan kissed her deeply, with little apology. He needed this, needed her.

AUTHOR BIO

Samantha lives in a small village in England with her gorgeous twin girls and husband who is a trained bodyguard and ex-soldier. She enjoys writing historical romance involving chivalrous knights, hot highlanders and cravatted men, but sometimes gets lured away by bad boy bikers, soldiers and other heroic modern men.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK

 

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Cover Reveal – My Wife’s Lil’ Secret a woman’s fiction by author Eve Rabi – @EveRabi1

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – My Wife’s Li’l Secret
AUTHOR – Eve Rabi
GENRE – Women’s Fiction
PUBLICATION DATE – 18 November 2014
PUBLISHER – Eve Rabi
COVER ARTIST – Eve Rabi

 

Love and Seduction

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

She called me the miracle in her life, I called her my Li’l treasure.

Sounds corny, I know, but I really believed I was the luckiest bastard on earth. I had the loving and supportive wife, a nurturing mother to our two precious girls, a thriving business and the future looked rosy. I was a contented man.
But overnight everything changed. My wife withdrew from me, ignored our children, and made it clear she was no longer interested in playing the role of wife and mother.

We had two children under five, they needed her. I needed her.

When her dressing began to change and she disappeared for hours, I suspected I was not enough for her.
Thinking she was having an affair, I placed my wife of five years under surveillance.

What my surveillance revealed shook my world, broke my heart and exposed a web of lies and deceit.

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE UK

 

My Wifes Lil Secret - Teaser

 

EXCERPT

Since my wife was out partying again, bedtime routine for our girls was left to me. Again. I tucked Ally and Becky into bed and began to read a story to them. “Once upon a time…”
“Dadda?” Ally said placing her hand on the storybook and stopping me from continuing.
I paused and looked at my daughter. “Yes, Alleycat?”
“Dadda, what’s a hooka?”
“Whaaaat?” I peered at my daughter wondering if I had heard correctly.
“The teacher at preschool, she said, ‘Here comes the hooka,’ when she saw Mummy.”
Slowly, I lowered the book and stared at my daughter. “It’s …it’s …”
How do I explain what a hooker is to a four-year-old? I shouldn’t even be in a position where I had to.
“The lady shouldn’t have said that, Ally,” I muttered.
“But, Dadda …”
Two-year-old Becky spun around and clamped her hand over Ally’s mouth. “Shhh! Let Daddy read the story, Ally!”
Becky hated anyone interrupting a story, so to prevent her from getting mad with us, both Ally and I fell silent. I continued reading even though I was terribly distracted by Ally’s words.
“Talk about it tomorrow, Ally,” I muttered when the opportunity arose.
Ally nodded.
After the kids fell asleep, I sat in my lounge in the dark and pondered Ally’s teacher’s comment.
Liefie had great legs, a great figure and I had no problem with her wearing whatever she liked, but people were talking and clearly her dressing needed to be …addressed.
Of course I expected Liefie to become angry when I confronted her about it, accuse me of controlling her and after the number of arguments we had had, I was reluctant to talk to her about it.
But when I saw her the following evening, all dolled up and ready to party without her family again, hooker was the word, alright.
Her red skirt was the size of a large belt, her white top strained across her breasts and ended above her belly button, her fake tan looked like she’d dipped herself in food coloring and that garish, face paint with that dominating electric-blue eye shadow…reminded me of Braveheart.
She didn’t look pretty; she looked like an aging prostitute. Harsh words, I know, but they weren’t out of malice, they were simply an observation. (People were talking, remember?)
Tarty make-up aside, to my absolute surprise, she sported two piercings above her left eyebrows. My jaw fell.
When did that happen, I wondered? How could that happen? Why hadn’t she told me about it?
Of course it was her body and she was free to do what she liked to it, but facial piercings weren’t something I liked. She knew that.
She could have at least mentioned it to me before she pieced her face. We were husband and wife; it was reasonable to expect her to talk to me about something like that before she did it.
“What’s with the piercing?” I asked, both mesmerized and irritated by them.
She shrugged, flashed me a deal-with-it look and turned away.
With a weary sigh, I walked around to face her. “We need to talk.”
A guarded look flashed in her eyes before they hardened.
“Liefie, you need to dress more like a mother,” I said in a quiet voice. “You have two children and …”
“What?! You want to tell me how to dress now? You want to CONTROL ME?”
Just as I had expected.
“Hey, keep you voice down, will you? I’m talking to you, that’s all.”
“There is nothing wrong with my dressing, okay?! Nothing!”
“Yes, there is, Liefie. Your skirts are too short, your tops are way too tight and the people at Ally’s school are talking about it. You need to …”
“Ally’s school?” Her heavily-lined eyes slanted.
“Yes!”
Her painted, pillar-box-red mouth twisted into a sneer. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I swear!”
She cocked her head and looked at me. “Who told you that?”
“Ally told me. She said one of the mothers or teachers, I can’t remember, after seeing you, used the word hooker.”
Her body stiffened. “Ally said ….THAT?!?”
“Yea…”
“That bitch! Where is she?!” She turned and strode off in search of Ally. Even though she was in heels, she almost ran.
“Liefie stop!” I cried running after her, shocked she would call her little daughter a bitch. “Leave her alone!”
She found Ally playing with Becky in the TV room. “Did you call me a hooker?” she demanded, putting her flaming face in Ally’s.
“Liefie stop this shit!” I warned.
Ally’s eyes flitted between Liefie’s and mine, a terrified look on her face.
“Lief…ie! ” I hissed. “Stop this …”
Liefie suddenly backhanded Ally across the face, sending her crashing into a doll’s house.
Ally lay on the floor so stunned, she didn’t even cry. The only thing that showed her distress was puddle appearing around her waist.
For a moment, I too was stunned. Liefie had never ever hit our kids before.
Then fury overtook me – I grabbed my wife by the hair and slammed her against the wall.
Putting my face in hers, I snarled, “You ever touch my child like that and I will fuck the shit out of you, understand? UNDERSTAND?”
Her attempt to look defiant failed and I saw fear flicker in her eyes.
I had never hit Liefie before, never even called her names, so this wasn’t something she was used to.
“Don’t ever lay a finger on any of my daughters. Understand?” I pushed my face further into hers, resisting the urge to head-butt her.
“Daddy, stop! Daddy!” Ally cried, while Becky started to whimper. I looked over at my two children clinging to each other, terror on their little faces.
What am I doing?!
Quickly, I released Liefie and took a giant step back.
I walked over to Ally and Becky, scooped up both of them and hugged them to me. “It’s okay, it’s okay!”
They looked at their mother who stood holding her head with both hands, but did not try to go to her.
After a few moments, Liefie ran out of the room, shouting, “Your father is an abusive man! He just abused me in front of our children. That’s the kind of man I married!”
I looked at Ally. “Sorry, hon.”
“Why did you tell her, Daddy?” Ally whispered, holding her tear-stained cheek.
“I’m sorry, Al, I was trying to get her to do the right thing. I’m sorry.”
“You knew she’d hit me, Daddy. You shouldn’t have told her.”
I peered at Ally. “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hit you, Ally. Usually. Right?”
No answer.
“ALLY?!”
“I need to change my pants,” Ally muttered, ignoring my questions.
My head jerked to look at little Becky.
Becky’s head bobbed, her eyes opening wide.
You can’t be serious?!
My eyes shifted back to Ally. “This is the first time she hit you, right? Or does she hit you? Tell me, Ally.” I shook her. “Tell me!”
Becky’s head continued to bob.
“All the time, Daddy,” Ally finally muttered. “Yesterday she hit me because I took too long to get Uncle Viggo’s beer. From the fridge.”
“WHAAAT?” She had my four-year-old daughter fetching alcohol for her brother?
Ally nodded.
“Mummy hit Ally here,” Becky said, slapping the top of her head.
I was mortified at what I was hearing.
If Liefie could hit my daughter that way in front of me, backhand her, what would she be doing behind my back? Aghast, I looked at my firstborn who I idolized. “Ally, honey, why didn’t you tell me this?”
“You weren’t here, Dadda. And Mummy said if I carry tales she’ll make me sorry.” Fat tears coursed down little Ally cheeks.
I drew my girls closer, feeling absolutely gutted to know they were being silently abused by their own mother. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Daddy will make it stop. I’m so sorry. This is not going to happen again. I promise.”

My Wifes Lil Secret - Author Photo

AUTHOR BIO

Eve Rabi lives in Sydney Australia, but was born in South Africa.
She is the author of 25 books and is known for her kick-ass leading ladies, her alpha males and her ability to make you cry and make you laugh as you fall in love.
She loves music and cannot live without it.
She also enjoys dancing, (was a Latin dance instructor years ago) and keeps her kids in line by threatening to bust a Zumba move in front of their school assembly.

FOLLOW EVE HERE

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Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity) by author Anne Conley a Contemporary Romance @AnneConley

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Saving Charlie
SERIES – Stories of Serendipity
AUTHOR – Anne Conley
GENRE – Contemporary Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – Nov. 15, 2014
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 75K
PUBLISHER – Anne Conley
COVER ARTIST – Vanessa Booke

 

Saving Charlie - Book Cover

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

100,000 children are sexually trafficked every year in the US. In the 1990s, Charlie was one of those children. She’s spent her adult life getting past that, trying to become a successful business owner in Serendipity, TX. Relationships are not goals for her. In fact, she’s not even sure she has what it takes to be a part of one.

Les is a fool for love. All he’s ever wanted was a girl. Now that every last one of his friends are married, and in happy relationships with families, he can’t stop thinking about the sexy lady who sells house parts, even if everything about her screams at him to stay away. He just can’t.

When they are thrown together on a cross-country road trip, Charlie’s past comes back to her full-force, long-buried memories inundating her. Les seems to be the only thing grounding her to the present, when everything else seems to be trying to tear her apart.

While it has a HEA, the road getting there is long, rough, and dark. Enjoy the ride.

Saving Charlie - Teaser 4

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON – BARNES & NOBLES – ITUNES

 

Saving Charlie - Teaser 3a

 

EXCERPT #1

They were passing a sign for White Sands when Les tugged gently on a piece of her hair. “Let’s stop here for a little bit and stretch.”
She agreed and when they pulled into the national monument, Charlie was overwhelmed. “Wow…It looks like a beach with no water.”
Les climbed out of the truck and walked into a pristine patch of sand, unmarred by footsteps. She laughed as he proceeded to mess up the unadulterated landscape by doing cartwheels and whooping. She watched his transformation with blatant amusement and a little bit of jealousy. He was so carefree in almost everything he did. It was breathtaking to watch this grown man play in the desert like a child.
“Hey, Charlie! Come here!” He called her over to where he was making a snow angel in the sand, flapping his arms and legs wildly. She couldn’t help herself. She stood next to him and fell back with a thud, making her own angel in the sand.
She was close enough that her hand brushed Les’s when she flapped, and he grabbed it and clasped. She turned her head to look at him and saw his face breaking into a smile that matched her own.
They gallivanted around, Les piggy-backing her around the park, having sand fights, and stealing kisses. Charlie couldn’t stop the giddy feeling erupting from her. Her entire adult life, she’d tried to stay away from being a part of something like this, and now that she’d finally let herself do it, she felt like a teenager. She wanted to touch Les all the time, walking hand in hand, or better yet, with her arm around his torso. She stole looks at him, and the best were the kisses he pretended to steal from her when she wasn’t expecting them. She was a part of something special with Les, a half of a whole, and the possibilities she allowed herself to ponder filled her with an unfamiliar longing.
They snapped photos of each other clowning around, and themselves together. Charlie couldn’t remember when she’d had more fun, just laughing at herself and someone else.
Les deposited her on a hill, with her back to him and told her not to look until he said so. She closed her eyes and nodded, then with a mysterious grunt, he was gone. She waited, a small smile on her face, wondering what he was up to. When he finally called to her from some distance, she looked.
Les was at the bottom of a hill in an enormous heart he’d made by shuffling his feet in the sand. Inside the heart were the initials, C + L. It was an impossibly juvenile endeavor, and it brought a tear to Charlie’s eyes. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.
Back at the truck, she watched, amused, as Les tried to shake all of the sand out of his clothes before climbing into her truck. He stripped off his shirt, socks and shoes before shaking everything out. She ignored the flutter in her belly at the sight of his shirtless chest, and instead poked fun at him slapping at his jeans.
“Are you always so anal about dirt in vehicles?”
He looked at her, his eyebrows waggling, an impish smirk on his face. “Why, Sweetness, did you just suggest Anal?”
She blushed furiously, “No.” Getting into the truck, she was suddenly worried. Did he do that sort of stuff? He seemed so sweet, like a missionary type guy, maybe doggy-style, but anal? Was he into the hard-core stuff? Would he want to tie her up? Charlie didn’t do bondage, in any form.
Back on the road, the silence was uncomfortable for Charlie as she tried to wrap her mind around the alarming thoughts racing through her head. Finally, she decided to just put it out there.
“Are you into stuff like that? Anal?”
He snapped his head around, shock evident on his face. “It was a joke, Charlie. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His fingers reached over for a tendril of her hair, and she rested her cheek on his hand.
“I was just checking. I don’t…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t like sex like that.”
His hand drifted down to her leg. “I just like sex, Charlie. And I have an idea if it’s with you, it’ll be amazing, no matter what kind it is.” He squeezed where his hand was on her thigh. “I don’t need all that other stuff, blindfolds and toys and stuff. I just like your basic sex.” Just the image in her mind of the two of them together had a warm pool of moisture coating the inside of Charlie’s panties.
“So, you’re a missionary man?”
He chuckled and adjusted his crotch while an adorable blush crept up his neck. Charlie liked that the conversation was getting to him, too. “Missionary, cowgirl, doggy-style, I like it all, but I like using the correct holes, and have never felt the need for aids in the bedroom.”
Charlie heard the exhale of relief from her mouth, as well as Les’s soft chuckle, but she couldn’t concentrate on the relief she felt, she was too busy tamping down the images of Les making love to her in ways she didn’t really want to think about right now. Oh hell, who was she kidding? She totally wanted to think about them.

man in suit on a concrete wall background

 

AUTHOR BIO

Anne has written her entire life and has the boxes of angst-filled journals and poetry to prove it. She’s been writing for public consumption for the last four years. Currently she is writing two romance series. In Stories of Serendipity, she explores real people living real lives in small town Texas in a contemporary romance setting. In The Four Winds, she chronicles God’s four closest archangels, Uriel, Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael, falling in love and becoming human. She lives in rural East Texas with her husband and children in her own private oasis, where she prides herself in her complete lack of social skills, choosing instead to live with the people inside her head.

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AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK –
FB for FRIENDING – TWITTER – GOOGLE+PINTEREST

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What Rough Beast – a Paranormal Mystery Thriller by author H.R. Knight @AuthorHRKnight

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – What Rough Beast
AUTHOR – H. R. Knight
GENRE – Paranormal Mystery
PUBLICATION DATE – 9/8/14
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 320pp/109,000 words
PUBLISHER – H. R. Knight
COVER ARTIST – Rebecca Poole

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Harry Houdini asks Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to help him expose Maximillian Cairo—a spiritualist medium. But the two men underestimate Cairo. He’s a master of the occult and the most debauched man in London. Conan Doyle and Houdini get more than they bargained for when they interrupt a magic ritual and accidentally set loose a force for ecstasy and chaos on an unsuspecting Edwardian London.

Soon one of their friends is falsely accused of a grisly murder. Conan Doyle and Houdini are sure the real killer was at the ritual with them. They’re faced with a locked-room homicide that baffles even Houdini.

One by one, people in the little group who attended the ceremony feel an insidious influence creep over them. Each succumbs to a burst of creativity, shortly followed by an act of uncontrollable madness.

The proper Victorian gentleman and the ebullient New Yorker must team up to solve the murder and stop the thing they set loose before it completely unravels their ordered world.

What Rough Beast - Book Cover

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK
AMAZON PAPERBACK – BARNES & NOBLES NOOK – SMASHWORDS

ITUNES – Books > Mysteries & Thrillers > Historical> H. R. Knight

 

EXCERPT

Chapter 28 – Encounter in the Fog

As we strolled along the tiny cobblestone lane, there was not a cab in sight. Not that we could see far in the darkness. The damp fog off the Thames had worked its way north to this neighbourhood. A thick patch of it rolled in quickly. In a few minutes, we could barely see across the street.

A little chill ran down my spine. I had a distinct feeling of being watched. I turned to look behind me. The gaslights had become faint glows that hid more than they illuminated. Movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. There, had something behind us just flitted into the shadow of a doorway? Or was it merely a swirl of mist? I felt alone and quite vulnerable. I was grateful for the sturdy companion at my side. Houdini spoke in a low voice.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I’m getting the creeps.”

We picked up our pace and made south for Euston Road. The fog thickened and thinned around us in pale, cottony patches. We encountered no other soul. At its densest, the fog could have concealed armies. Indeed, it played strange tricks on one’s ears. I thought I heard footsteps shuffling along behind us. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour or the disturbing events we were investigating, but the sound made me uneasy. We continued on even more quickly. Then, suddenly, we were in the clear. We could see the entire block of flats behind us. I paused, and restrained my companion with a hand on his arm. Here was our chance to get a good look at our pursuer. I could not be sure, but I thought I heard a foot scrape the stones of the road before silence surrounded us. I looked to Houdini.

“I heard it too,” he said softy. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Back there.”

Why his confirmation filled me with dread, I cannot say. The person behind us was almost certainly a weary pilgrim such as we, eager for his own sitting room and a warm fire.

I saw that Houdini had drawn the sharpened screwdriver out of his pocket and held it like a dagger. We turned to face whoever was following us.

Halfway down the street a single gaslight glowed feebly. At the end of the lane a figure approached. It jogged along the walls of the buildings. I got an impression of a manlike shape with an impossibly lean body and grotesquely long limbs. It loped along in an odd, loose-jointed way. I could have sworn I heard soft, animal-like moans. It was as if some savage beast were hot on our trail. I felt Houdini clutch my shoulder.

“What is it?” he hissed in my ear.

I could only shake my head. It was like no creature I had seen in all my travels. The thing’s unnatural form filled me with loathing. Its huge shadow, magnified by the streetlamp, flitted along the bricks of the buildings.

I stood, my eyes riveted on the gaslight down the street. What would I see when the thing stepped full into the glow? As if in answer to my thought, it paused and sniffed the air. The misshapen head swiveled until it pointed precisely in our direction. Its eyes glittered with a malign emerald glow.

The beast took a step forward. Then an absolutely unexpected thing happened. Just before it stepped full into the light, the creature swarmed straight up the sheer wall. I gasped at the speed with which it scaled the bricks. It climbed until it was lost in the shadows. For a moment, all was silent. Then I heard a sound that chilled me to my soul—the faint sound of claws scrabbling across the roof tiles high above us. And the sound was approaching rapidly.

“Come on,” Houdini hissed, grabbing my sleeve.

We took off down the street at a run. My shoes slipped on the flagstones. I wheeled my arms to catch my balance. On and on we raced. The blood beat in my temples. We careened into abrupt turns and doubled back on ourselves. Soon we were back in another patch of fog. My breath sounded harsh in my ears. At last I felt Houdini’s grasp on my arm as he pulled me to a stop.

I sagged against the cold bricks and gasped for air. Silence surrounded us. My heart pounded in my chest. Had we given our pursuer the slip? The alley next to us was dark. We huddled in its shadows and peeped around the corner. We could barely make out the walls of the tenements that loomed over us. The stones beneath our feet were rough and uneven. The cold air seared the back of my throat as I caught my breath. I scarcely dared look back for fear of seeing something.

Houdini whispered. “I think we lost—”

The unmistakable sound of scrabbling above us cut him off.

“Run!”

The cry echoed off the walls. We plunged into the blackness of the street before us. I was racing at full speed before I realised that it was I who had shrieked the command. Our feet pounded the pavement as we dashed through the darkness. We both flung our arms up to protect from an overhead attack. The thing that pursued us—was it what had murdered Mackleston’s brother?

The street turned out to be a long, curving one with no side alleys. But at the end I thought I discerned a glow of light.

“At… end,” Houdini gasped beside me. “Stop … set ambush.”

I thought of what the creature above us had done to Reggie and shivered. How could we defend against an attack that could come from any direction? But each breath I drew felt like a stab in my side. I couldn’t run much longer.
Not three yards from the end of the street a huge figure loomed out of the lowering fog in front of us. We skidded to a stop and barely avoided colliding with it.

“Here now, what’s the rush, lads?” a loud voice boomed. Two hands the size of hams clutched at our lapels and hauled us into the street. “Let’s get a better look at you,” the voice declared.

We found ourselves under an electric light on Euston Road. The figure looming over us revealed itself as a frowning giant of a policeman. The fog had lowered again. Little droplets had condensed on the brass buttons of his uniform. They glittered like gems under the lamplight. Though I continued to gasp for air, my relief was palpable. As he saw how we were dressed, a look of surprise registered on his face and he loosed his hold on us.

“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” he said. Then he noticed the sharpened screwdriver, still clutched in Houdini’s hand. “Now what—”

“Constable,” I panted, “someone or something is after us.” I pointed into the blackness behind us.

Houdini nodded vigorously as he leaned over to suck in air. “Tried to lose him … chased us a good two miles.”
“Oh, he has, has he?” The officer drew his truncheon out of his belt and turned to face the yawning darkness. “We’ll see about that.”

I could not let him face the demon alone. “Whoever he is. .. he’s gone mad,” I warned between breaths. “You must … get reinforcements.”

The policeman turned back to us and smiled. “One man only?”

“At least wait… until we catch … our breaths,” I urged. “We’ll accompany you.”

The policeman seemed not to have heard me. His face lit up in anticipation. William the Conqueror’s face might have looked the same as he led the charge at Hastings.

“I hope he tries to resist arrest. I truly do.”

So saying, he picked up a little black lantern from the ground beside him. He lifted it to head height and plunged into the unlit street.

“Like Custer at Little Bighorn,” Houdini muttered to himself. Neither of us had fully recovered, but we straightened up and staggered after the man.

“Wait up!” Houdini called. We chased the watery glow of light from his lantern as it floated through the foggy darkness. Before we had gone six steps, the light appeared to dance wildly. We heard a shout, a feral screech, and finally a shrill scream, like a soul in torment. The shriek rose and fell. Abruptly, it cut off. The lantern fell to the street with a clatter. It glowed brightly for a moment and then winked out. A terrible silence followed.

AUTHOR BIO

H. R. Knight is the pen name of Harry Squires, a critically acclaimed author who writes mysteries—some paranormal, some not—as well as thrillers, and the occasional magazine article. Harry has worked as an insurance underwriter, a software marketer, and a corporate trainer. He attended Journalism School at the University of Missouri and film school at UCLA.

He has studied Okinawan karate and Chinese boxing. Current hobbies include dog training, classical guitar, cooking, and collecting obscure, cheesy horror films from the 1930s & ‘40s.

Having traveled all over the world, he’s developed a preference for countries that produce good wines.

He shares a home and a life with his wife Susan, who publishes unconventional paranormal romances. They own, train, and show Belgian Sheepdogs. Occasionally the dogs are kind enough to give Harry and Susan hope that they may someday be in charge of the pack.

They all live at the beach in Southern California.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – TWITTER

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Her Christmas Cowboy by author Adele Downs – A Contemporary Western Romance @Adele_Downs

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BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – HER CHRISTMAS COWBOY
AUTHOR – Adele Downs
GENRE – Contemporary Western Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – November 7, 2014
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 11,500 word Lunchbox Romance
PUBLISHER – Boroughs Publishing Group

 

Her Christmas Cowboy - Book Cover

 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Tragedy brought them together, but joy met them on the other side.

Daisy Phillips has a choice to make: return to Pennsylvania and the Christmases she once knew, or stay in Texas and find a new way to celebrate the holiday–with the handsome cowboy who brought joy back to her life.

The heartwarming sequel to the Amazon-bestselling Lunchbox Romance, Kissing Her Cowboy!

 

BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE – SMASHWORDS – ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS 

EXCERPT

Clearly, the man had no concept of his effect on her.

When Daisy pulled up to Trey’s house and saw him standing at the base of the steps to greet her in nothing but low slung denims and work boots, she’d found it hard to breathe. Suddenly, Jack Frost and his Pennsylvania winter lost their appeal. Who needed snow when a smokin’ hot cowboy waited for her? Welcomed her? Wanted her?

If she hadn’t come to Houston, she wouldn’t have met the handsome ranch hand who filled her dreams night after night. Trey had become her single compelling reason to work through her personal pain. That and the fact that she’d never give up police work. She’d find a way to succeed, one way or another. It was hard for a cop to be flexible, since theirs was a structured world, but she was trying her best to adapt to her new environment.

Daisy took a bite of her chicken salad while Trey munched his roast beef. They ate in companionable silence while Big Blue grazed beyond. Trey took a swallow of bottled ice tea and then spoke. “Would you like to spend Christmas Eve together, here? Maybe help me trim the tree?”

Daisy’s spirit lifted again with the invitation, though she tried to stay cool. She and her sister Rose had already been invited to Christmas dinner with Trey’s family, and she’d promised to bring homemade pumpkin pie and oven fresh bread. Rose was making apple pie and a side dish.

Daisy hadn’t expected to spend Christmas Eve with Trey too, but she was glad he asked. “Sure. I’d like that.” The heaviness around her heart broke free and her mood lifted. She imagined the two of them in an embrace, making love beneath the twinkling lights of Trey’s Christmas tree, and realized she was…happy.

It had been so long since she’d known the feeling it took seconds to realize what had come over her. She smiled and savored the moment. Trey made her happy. Spending Christmas with him was the best gift the season could bring.

There would be no snowfall in Texas. Or winter’s chill. No downhill sledding, hot cocoa, or ice covered boots. There might not be snippets of holly gracing the table, but there would undoubtedly be mistletoe. With that final thought, Daisy leaned over and gave Trey a deep, gotta’ get-back-to-work kiss.

He smiled at her, and just like that… Daisy found her Christmas spirit.

 

Her Christmas Cowboy - Author Photo

AUTHOR BIO

Adele Downs writes best-selling contemporary romance inside the office of her rural Pennsylvania home. She is a former journalist, published in newspapers and magazines inside the USA, UK, and Caribbean.

Adele is an active member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter where she serves as a past-president. She has written several articles for RWR magazine (Romance Writers Report) and has presented workshops for writers.

When Adele isn’t working on her current project, she can be found riding in her convertible or reading a book on the nearest beach.

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK – TWITTER
PINTEREST – STREET TEAM 

 

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Five (5) Amazon Kindle gift copies of KISSING HER COWBOY.
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