*Book Blitz* Seed of Control: Generations to Execute by Lawrence Verigin

Released today, Seed of Control is the explosive sequel to the award-winning, high-concept thriller Dark Seed, from author Lawrence Verigin.

seed-of-control-cover-low-resTitle: Seed of Control: Generations to Execute

Author: Lawrence Verigin

Genre: Thriller, ecological thriller

Date released: November 1st, 2016

Released by: Promontory Press

Length: 360 pages (paperback)

Blurb: Journalist and author Nick Barnes is back, finding himself quickly thrown into a chain of events which uncovers a plot so beyond moral comprehension that it will affect Earth’s entire population. The plot has taken generations to develop and in on the cusp of being fully implemented

Argochemical and pharmaceutical industrialist Dr. Hendrick Schmidt and media baron Davis Lovemark lead the scheme with the unerring belief that they are the stewards of humanity and that they alone have the right to decide the fate of the masses.

Nick’s chase spans continents as he works desperately to foil Schmidt and Lovemark. But he quickly discovers that it might already be too late.

Immerse yourself in the action and intrigue of this high concept thriller that may not be as far from reality as you might think.

About the Author:

seed-of-control-lawrence-veriginLawrence Verigin is the author of the award winning novel DARK SEED and the just released sequel, SEED of CONTROL. He is currently writing the third book in the “SEED” series.

His goal is to entertain readers while delving into socially relevant subjects. Lawrence and his wife, Diana, live in Vancouver, Canada.

On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lawrence.verigin.7
On Twitter: https://twitter.com/LawrenceVerigin

Website: http://www.lawrenceverigin.com

On Amazon: http://amzn.to/2efsQbQ
On Goodreads:
http://bit.ly/2dvIcL2
On B&N: http://bit.ly/2dWAQQ5

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*Promo w/Author Bio & Excerpt* The Double by Alison Brodie

“The luxury of living a lie.”

 

THE DOUBLE

Title: The Double

Author: Alison Brodie

Genre: Women’s fiction, mystery, romance, chick-lit

Date released: January 19th, 2016

Length: 294 pages

Blurb: A night she can’t remember. A week she won’t forget.

*

Beth is mistaken for rock star Sonita La Cruz, and ends up on a billionaire-dollar yacht. As a shift-worker in Glasgow, Beth has only known hardship. Now she’s in a world of uniformed stewards, delicious French food and rows of gorgeous designer clothes. Beth keeps quiet about the mix-up, determined to wear every outfit in her wardrobe before she’s sent home. What’s wrong with a little play-acting? Beth takes to the role of rock diva like a duck takes to water.

Aleksandr, the captain, arrives and is astonished to see a beautiful raven-haired girl lying on deck issuing orders through a loud-hailer. After talking to Beth, Aleksandr realises what has happened. His smuggling buddies, knowing Aleksandr needs to speak to Sonita about a kid’s crisis, grabbed Beth by mistake. Aleksandr is desperate. To save those children, he needs money, but Sonita has disappeared.

Beth rises to the challenge. She looks like Sonita, so why not BE Sonita? Beth does a magazine interview for one million dollars, and ransoms herself for another million. Beth saves the kids … but can she save herself? Too late, Beth discovers why Sonita disappeared.

*

A love story set against the backdrop of a luxury yacht on the Côte d’Azur, a civil war in the Eastern Bloc, and a Glasgow housing estate.

Buy Links: Amazon UK & Amazon US

Author Bio

Alison Brodie Author photo

Alison Brodie is a Scot, with French Huguenot ancestors on her mother’s side of the family. Alison was a photographic model, modelling for a wide range of products, including Ducatti motorbikes and 7Up. She was also the vampire in the Schweppes commercial.

A disastrous modelling assignment in the Scottish Highlands gave Alison an idea for a story, which was to become Face to Face. She wrote Face to Face as a hobby and then decided to send it off to see what would happen. It was snapped up by Dinah Wiener, the first agent Alison sent it to. Three weeks later, Alison signed a two-book deal with Hodder & Stoughton. Subsequently, Face to Face was published in Germany and Holland. It was widely reviewed, ie: “Vain, but wildly funny leading lady.” -Scottish Daily Mail. It was also chosen as Good Housekeeping’s “Pick of the Paperbacks.”

Unfortunately, Alison then suffered from Second-Book Syndrome. The publisher’s deadline loomed and she was terrified because she didn’t have an idea for a story! She found the whole experience a nightmare; and this is why she cautions first-time authors to write more than one book before approaching an agent. She managed to finish the book – Sweet Talk – but it bombed.

While writing Sweet Talk, she moved to Kansas and lived there for two years. She loved the people, their friendliness, their free-and-easy way of life, the history and the BBQs! Sadly, her visa ran out and she had to come back to the UK – although her dream is to one day live permanently in America. Now, Alison lives in Biarritz, France with her rescue mutt, Bayley.

Alison has taken the exhilarating steps to becoming an indie author. Her second ebook, THE DOUBLE, is out on Amazon Kindle with some great reviews. “Excellent.” –San Francisco Book Review.

Alison writes contemporary romance. She aims for a strong plot line, set against the background of a world-changing event, coupled with touches of humour, sexual tension and character transformation.

She loves to hear from her readers.

Link to website: http://www.alisonbrodiebooks.com/#!the-double/c1253

Excerpt

Aleksandr

It was early evening when Aleksandr leapt from his boat and onto the boarding platform of the Kazka. All around the sea boiled as the great engines roared. Why was the Kazka moving? he wondered. Had Gerrard found another captain to replace him?

He saw Gerrard at the top of the stairs and bounded up. ‘Are you sailing?’ he shouted to the butler.

Gerrard’s answer was lost in the roar. As the noise of the engines subsided, Aleksandr spoke again. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, I tried contacting you but my radio is dead.’

I have something to tell you Aleksandr.’

Hearing the grave note in his friend’s voice, Aleksandr stilled. Something was wrong.

We have a passenger aboard,’ Gerrard began. ‘A woman.’

Aleksandr nodded. So far, it didn’t sound too bad.

Her name is Sonita La Cruz.’

Sonita La Cruz?’ Aleksandr repeated cautiously.

That is correct.’

The American singer?’

Yes.’

Aleksandr gripped Gerrard’s arms. ‘My friend, you cannot believe how lucky this is! I have been desperate to speak to her and all this time she was here, as Karimov’s guest.’

She is not a guest of Karimov. As we speak, he is in Marseilles, detained by the French authorities and knows nothing of her presence on board. It was your friend, Boris Lazutin, who brought her here. He found her in Port Glasgow and-’

Stop!’ Aleksandr’s shoulders sagged with bitter disappointment. ‘She is an imposter. An American rock star would have no reason to be in Port Glas-’

It is her,’ Gerrard insisted. ‘Boris looked in her passport.’

Aleksandr scoffed: ‘Sonita La Cruz permitted Boris Lazutin to look in her passport?’

She did not give permission, because …’ Gerrard took a visible breath. ‘There was chloroform in the shipment they picked up …’

Aleksandr felt the first stirrings of unease. ‘And?’

They abducted her.’

No.’ Aleksandr shook his head emphatically. ‘Boris would never do such a thing.’

It was Igor.’

Igor!’ Aleksandr balled his fists. This, he could understand. His old cell-mate had the morals of a barbarian, and what had he, Aleksandr, said to him back in Odessa? ‘How I wish I could speak to Sonita, if only for five minutes.’

The Chechen, ever loyal, had given Aleksandr his wish. But at what cost?

She must have been terrified!

Gerrard reared back in affront. ‘Pas de tout! Boris and Dimitri showed her a message, in English, reminding her of the children and immediately she understood what was happening. She even sang for them and signed autographs.’ Gerrard swept out a hand. ‘And her time with us has been most pleasant, I can assure you. She has been quite content to wait for your arrival … until last night.’ Gerrard sighed. ‘If only you had arrived earlier, this debaçle would never have occurred.’

What happened last night?’

She wanted to go ashore to make a phone call. When I told her she could not leave the ship, she became wild with fury.’ Gerrard held out his palms. ‘But I could not allow her to make that call. Her intentions may be good, they may be bad, but I cannot risk police investigation, especially at this time.’

Yes, yes, of course.’

Gerrard continued: ‘She believes her abduction was part of a game.’

‘A game?’

Mais, oui. The rich become easily bored; it is a curse. They need always to search for fresh amusement. She talked of James Bond and hunting micro-chips that would save the world. Perhaps, she believed a friend had taken her. When she realised this was no game, she accused you, Aleksandr, of masterminding her abduction. She also began to insist that she is not Sonita La Cruz.’

She has been shunted from boat to boat like a barrel of beer. Is it any wonder she wishes to be anyone but herself?’ Aleksandr raked his fingers through the stubble of his hair. There had been a glimmer of hope that this one woman would help them but … now?

Where is she? Take me to her.’

No. You are dirty and unshaven. You must scrub yourself, first.’

No more delay!’ Aleksandr marched off. ‘I brought photos and a video recording to show you – now I can show them to her. And when she sees the suffering, she will forgive everything.’

Gerrard put a hand on the big man’s arm. ‘For the sake of privacy, she has asked me to use her alias, Mademoiselle Skiffington.’ He hurried to catch up with the big man. ‘My friend, you will be disappointed. This woman will not help you. The means by which she has been brought here have cancelled out the good intentions she may have had.’

But I must try.’ Aleksandr had to shout as, once more, the ship’s engines began to roar. ‘Why are we moving?’

Gerrard waited for the noise to subside before answering. ‘Mademoiselle has given the order to turn the Kazka around.’ He shrugged helplessly. ‘She wishes to view the sunset without having to move from her chair.’

Aleksandr gazed at Gerrard in astonishment. He was now aware of classical music. The clarity of the sound system was astounding, as if a live orchestra was performing. He walked onto the open deck. It was a live orchestra; the musicians dressed as angels.

Beside him, Gerrard muttered, ‘She has been making outrageous demands of me. An orchestra dressed in wings. Cocaine. Even peanut butter! It has been a nightmare. She keeps saying, “You want a rock star, pal, well that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”’

As the ship’s engines began to grow in volume, a woman’s voice filled the sky.

STOP THE BOAT – YOU’RE GIVING ME A HEADACHE!’

Then he saw her.

She reclined on a sunbed, holding a loudhailer to her mouth. A small white animal sat on an ornate gold chair beside her. Because the rock star was angled away from him, he could not see her face, only the veil of long black hair cascading over a crimson gown, and a slim brown leg, bent at the knee.

At her command, the engines subsided, leaving only the music. The loudhailer swung to the orchestra. ‘MOZART PIGFART! FUCK OFF!’ She tossed the loudhailer to the deck in childish bad-humour. ‘Gerrard!’ she called peevishly. ‘I need an aspirin.’

Immediately, Mademoiselle,’ Gerrard replied before hurrying away.

Aleksandr hesitated. Was this the woman who had written to him promising her help? He strengthened his resolve against his growing sense of dread and walked forward.

As he drew to a halt beside her chair, he saw a scarlet bikini against brown silken skin and a diamond-studded belt around slim hips – a belt which seemed to be an exact replica to the collar around the animal’s neck. She held a silver teaspoon to the creature’s mouth, watching as the tiny tongue licked the caramel-coloured paste from the spoon. Aleksandr had never been interested in the music scene, but he couldn’t deny this surge of ‘teenage’ excitement that he now stood before someone so famous.

As his shadow fell over her, she waved him away. ‘I am TRYING to look at the sunset.’

He stepped to one side. ‘Miss Skiffington-’ he began.

Where’s my aspirin?’ The sunglasses glanced in the direction of his hands. ‘What do I have to do? Writhe around on the deck in agony?’ With her attention on him now, her gaze travelled sharply up and over him. ‘Oh my God!’ She sat straight. ‘How dare you stand there … dirty. Look at your fingernails – they’re black!

It’s not dirt. It’s engine oil.’

Engine oil!’ She recoiled; pulling her scarlet robe tight around her as if fearful he would mark it. ‘What are you doing outside the engine room? Go back in, immediately.’

He pulled up a chair from the table and sat down.

I am not a mechanic,’ he said. ‘I am Aleksandr Shtcherbatsky Zhivago.’

Beth

Beth didn’t give him a second glance. She lifted her chin and shouted across the deck, ‘Gerrard, I am not stupid!’ God, she thought, Gerrard must be desperate to pacify me if he has to dig up a man from the engine room and palm him off as Zhivago.

She carried on feeding Pookie, smiling indulgently as she watched the tiny tongue licking the peanut butter off the spoon. She’d expected some big greyhound-type and had been surprised and delighted to receive this little bundle of fluff. Tonight, at dinner, she would clip diamond ear-rings on his perky ears.

The mechanic still hadn’t budged. She shouted again: ‘GERR-ARD!’

I am Aleksandr Shtcherbatsky Zhivago,’ the man blustered.

Look, sunshine, I know you’re not, so take a hike.’

Why do you say this? Why do you believe I am not him?’

Because he’s short, fat and ugly and you’re …’ Needing the relevant description to finish the sentence, she inspected the man from over the top of her sunglasses. He sat with his big hands gripping his knees, heavy black eyebrows converging into a frown. Despite the oil marks, dirt and bruises, he was strikingly handsome, if a little wild-eyed, ‘… not.’

She turned her attention back to Pookie.

Short and fat?’ the man echoed.

She sighed. ‘His photos are all over the boat, so I know what he looks like.’

Ah, that is Yakov Karimov. He is the owner of the Kazka. I am the captain.’

She wasn’t going to let him think she was listening but she was, her eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her sunglasses. Was she being led to believe that instead of being abducted by a suave and sophisticated billionaire, she had in fact been abducted by a man who reeked of diesel?

He took out a wallet. ‘This is my captain’s licence.’

She saw his photo stamped with an official seal and the name: Aleksandr Shtcherbatsky Zhivago.

Zhivago!’ She spun on her bottom and planted her feet firmly on the deck between them. ‘You! You had me kidnapped!’

Startled, he held out his palms against her accusation. ‘Please, Miss La-’ He quickly corrected himself, ‘Miss Skiffington. I knew nothing of it. I have come from Odessa on my own boat, with no means of communication. This was the fault of Igor. He knew how desperately I wanted to talk to you, but there is no excuse for what he did.’

The man hoisted a satchel onto his lap. ‘I have video recording and photographs that will prove my honesty. Five minutes of your time is all I ask. If, after that, you do not wish to involve yourself, I will gladly escort you from the ship.’

The words, ‘But you’ve got the wrong woman!’ had been on the tip of Beth’s tongue but his suggestion struck her dumb.

Escort you from the ship.

But she didn’t want to be escorted from the ship!

She lay back on the chaise-longue, her thoughts flustered and indignant. Pierre was making her favourite pudding tonight: Charlotte Malakoff aux Framboises. And the fur-trimmed, copper-coloured gown – which she knew to be extra-special because she’d discovered it in a refrigerated wardrobe – was now hanging ready in her dressing room.

Of course, she wanted to leave, had to leave, but this was all too … sudden.

A launch is waiting,’ Zhivago added helpfully. ‘You can be back in Glasgow by midnight.’

Glasgow…

She thought of Andy’s twisted, angry face; the smell of urine on the stairs; the cacophony of televisions and wailing babies. The flat with its low-ceiling and box rooms with no space to move, to breathe, to think. She gazed towards the horizon seeing the pink feathery clouds that the sun had left behind; the heart-melting blue of the sky that went on for ever; the silence, the space, so much glorious space, it made her feel she could spread her arms and fly.

Your aspirin, mademoiselle.’ Gerrard bent towards her, holding a tray.

I don’t want it.’

Gerrard straightened. ‘Mr Shtcherbasky Zhivago has explained everything, I trust?’

She nodded sullenly. She knew she was behaving like a petulant prima donna but she couldn’t help herself. Anyway, it was their fault. They’d given her a mega cruise-liner, a battalion of servants, diamond tiaras and designer frocks; and now they were throwing her back to where she’d come from as if she was a rag doll.

I am relieved,’ Gerrard said. ‘Now, I hope, you can forgive me for keeping you here?’

She refused to look at him.

Let me bring you a beer, Captain Shtcherbatsky Zhivago.’ Gerrard moved off. ‘And I will fetch water for Pookie.’

Beth looked at her little dog. She couldn’t take him back to Glasgow. How thoughtless of her to demand an animal. But it wasn’t her fault! It was these people who had made her so angry she’d been unable to think straight. Now, Pookie would have to go back to the breeders. And she would have to go back to Glasgow.

She scowled at Zhivago. I will stay one more night, she decided. I’m owed that much. After that, I don’t care if they think I’m Sonita La Cruz or King Kong.

She paused in thought: Had Sonita promised to help with this children’s hospital? If so, was she, Beth, hindering the project by continuing this farce? But, surely, one more night wouldn’t make any difference. She turned to Zhivago. ‘I just want to get a couple of things straight. Why have you brought me here?’

To discuss building a children’s hospital.’

And you’re not holding me to ransom?’

He looked appalled. ‘No! Please believe me, no.

She did believe him. With her eyes obscured behind her sunglasses she was able to study him openly. He was dark, rather tensely drawn with a swarthy gypsy-look. Although he looked like some un-neutered tom-cat, there was a reassuring sincerity about him.

OK,’ she announced. ‘I will stay one more night.’ Watching how he fell back in his chair, she could almost see the tension flow from his body.

Thank you,’ he whispered.

She carried on feeding Pookie, distancing herself from the man’s obvious relief. ‘So, where’s the owner while all this is happening?’

Yakov Karimov? He is in Marseille.’

And you’re the captain?’

Briefly, yes. I am to sail her back to her home port of St Tropez.’

St Tropez!

Although she continued to look at the man, her inner eye gazed beyond him, imagining herself at the prow of the Kazka with Pookie in her arms as the crème de la crème of the Riviera looked up from their aperatifs, watching them in awe.

When does the Kazka leave?’ she whispered, feeling her throat choked with tears.

Tomorrow.’ The man leant forward, misconstruing her silence. ‘I know this has been difficult for you.’ He removed a manila envelope from his bag. ‘But once you see the evidence, you will understand and forgive.’

Beth wasn’t interested in his envelope. She continued to stare into space, wistfully choosing the gorgeous outfits she and Pookie would have worn if they’d had the chance to sail into the most glamorous port in the world. She snapped from her reverie, aware of a lip-smacking sound. Pookie had peanut butter stuck to his upper palette and was trying to dislodge it with his tongue.

The man nodded. ‘What is it?’

Peanut butter. Crunchy.’

No, the animal. What is it?

A Papillon.’

What is that? A cat, a dog?’ The man tilted his head to one side. ‘A rabbit?’

A dog,’ she answered tartly, watching him suspiciously for signs of mockery.

Gerrard appeared and handed the Zhivago a glass of beer before placing a bowl of water on the deck. ‘Would you like your cocktail served now, Mademoiselle Skiffington?’

Startled, she realised the light had faded from the sky. ‘Absolutely not! I can’t possibly take my cocktail looking such a mess.’ She saw Zhivago’s expression and chose to ignore it. Slipping her feet into scarlet sling-backs, she scooped Pookie up from the bowl of water and stood straight. Courteously, Zhivago rose with her, increasing alarmingly in height.

Are you joining me for dinner?’ she asked; conscious of his dirty hands and loathe to think he might touch her.

That would be an honour, but do not worry, I will first scrub myself clean.’

She nodded her approval. Dressing up for oneself was fun, but not as much fun as when a man was there to appreciate it. And the fact that the man believed himself to be in the presence of a sex goddess added a delicious piquancy. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head to give him a clear-eyed look; then she bathed him in a dazzling smile, turned and sashayed away.

She would be Sonita … for one last night.

THE DOUBLE

‘Give any girl a billion-dollar yacht, a mile of pretty frocks and an army of manservants and she’ll turn into Cleo-sodding-patra!’ – The Double quote

Taglines

“She saved the children.  But who will save her?”

“Her dream came true but her nightmare is just beginning.”

“Only someone this bad could be this good.”

*Promo* Ghost on the Lake by Alex Alexander

Ghost on the Lake

Title: Ghost on the Lake

Author: Alex Alexander

Genre: Supernatural thriller, paranormal

Date released: June 30th, 2015

Length: 194 pages

Blurb: Imagine dying very suddenly. Only to realize you may still be alive, but lost in another dimension. 

And imagine the terror of knowing the only way back to your body and the love of your life is to overcome the darkest of evils, ancient tribesmen, and the sinister deception of someone you trusted. 

Ghost on the Lake pits the power of love and evil in a battle between Earthly and supernatural forces that have the power to change life as we know it. 

 As students at the University of Chicago, Mike and Laura are soulmates, preparing to spend their lives together. Until unthinkable tragedy strikes. While swimming, Mike mysteriously vanishes. But Laura isn’t convinced he has drowned. She suspects other shadowy forces are at work. 

She’s joined in her quest for the truth by Ron, a close friend from Mike’s past. However, things become heated and frightening when Laura and Ron become entangled in a worldwide criminal plot to control a secret substance that makes it possible to leave your body and visit other dimensions

Can Mike escape the clutches of evil and return to his life? Will he be cut off from his body forever by the criminal syndicate tormenting Laura and Ron? Or is his biggest challenge an unsuspecting clan that holds the key to the mystery of the secret substance. 

The answers will shock you.  And your perception of life, love and death will never be the same.

Author Bio:

Alex Alexander is an experienced physicist and engineer with an extensive international background. Having worked in numerous countries, his exposure to scientific and cultural diversity provides a rich source of insight for Ghost on the Lake, a supernatural thriller that deftly blends science, spirituality, passion and suspense.

Alex’s professional and personal experiences came together in a highly unique fashion to fuel the writing of Ghost on the Lake. After graduating from college with a degree in Experimental Particle Physics, he began his global travels as he shuttled between various European countries. His professional and academic experience during this time included working in particle accelerator complex and earning his Ph.D.

In 2000, Alex was recruited by a leading global management consultancy where he spent more than four years excelling in a number of capacities that included consulting management positions. Since 2005, he has worked with an industrial company where he is able to utilize his broad range of experience within multiple Company divisions.

While vacationing one summer with his wife and children in Europe, Alex and his wife had a life-changing encounter with a “spirit presence” that occupied the home in which they were staying. This made an indelible impression on Alex.

These fascinating mystical experiences combined with Alex’s extensive scientific background, provide a compelling juxtaposition that serves as the inspiration for his enthralling novel, Ghost on the Lake.

Author links:

http://www.alexalexanderbooks.com

http://www.alexalexanderauthor.com

Ghost on the Lake book trailer

Amazon link

“This book takes the reader through a gigantic labyrinth of spellbinding twists and turns of suspense, intrigue, paranormal and supernatural activities, near death experiences, and love…a real page turner and truly a great read for adults and young adults alike.”  – Amazon Verified Purchase

 

 

*New Release Promo w/Excerpt* DAN’S DESIRES (Desires #5) by Holly J. Gill

I am so delighted to have the release of the 5th novel in the Desires series
A hot erotic series based around a sexclub where all your sexual fantasies can come alive, from BDSM to a weekend away enjoying one another, the choice is yours.
Only in Dan’s Desires you finally get to read Dan’s version of the four previous books while struggling with his own emotions.
Step into a world of a young man who turns from a boy into a man

Dan’s Desires

Tagline

Lost and shattered, on the verge of losing everything,
can Dan be happy again?

 

Blurb

Dan, a devious, hot, sincere young man, preys on
women like a vulture. He takes up escorting before entering a world of sexual
fantasy in a club called Desires, being paid to have sex. He loves being a naughty
boy without conviction, even having sex with the boss, using any means to have
his wicked way.

 

Then he meets a new client,
Stacie Clifford. He needs to drop the boy act and become a man, yet remember
the club’s emotional contract. He makes it his responsibility to protect Stacie
from Angel the boss of the club. He’s in love.

 

 

He has almost everything: a
wife, son and a baby on the way, ownership of Desires, yet something is missing
from his life, Sapphire his daughter. Unable to move on, feeling destroyed, his
marriage is uneasy. Day after day he fights his heartache, wanting to be happy
and be Dan, the man he once was. Will Dan ever be complete again? What will it
take to get him there?

Erotic Excerpt

He managed to pick the lock and get into the room.
There was not much light as she had drawn the curtains. His eyes adjusted to
the low light and he could make her out on the sofa. Wearing his full
ninja-banana costume, he made his way over to her. He could hardly see who she
was as she wore dark glasses hiding her identity. Who he was about to have his
dick sucked off by, he had no idea, but hell it sounded hot. Dan saw a smile
spark across her face looking thrilled, he had made it.

 

When he got closer he could make out she had short
brown hair and a curvy build with mangoes for boobs. She was wearing a shirt
with the buttons half way undone, showing off her large cleavage. He liked
tits, so he would prefer her to get those out and fuck them, but no a deal was
a deal and his cock was already straining inside his pants.

 

He made his way over to her. She stood up for him
and he saw all her hot curves. Without a word spoken, he sat on the couch and
she dropped to her knees between his legs.

 

She reached inside the yellow trousers and pulled
out his long, thick, throbbing dick and gobbled it instantly into her mouth.
She took his head as far as it would go, hitting the back of her throat. Dan
grumbled. The woman released his cock with a loud pop, and then dived on it
once again. Dan could feel her mouth filling with saliva, lapping and sucking.
She released and groaned. “Mmmmm,” she mumbled. His eyes shut tight loving the
tease she was putting on him.

 

She slid her hand up and down the long girth,
pumping him, using her saliva to lubricate him. Then she plunged back down on
him, her tongue flicked over the tip into his slick opening. The woman dipped
her tongue in his pre-cum.

Festive treat!

Desires out now only £0.99 or $1.49

*Halloween Promo w/Excerpt* Memphis Hoodoo Murders by Kathryn Rogers

Memphis Hoodoo Murders is an occult horror mystery novel that sounds like a dark, gripping read, especially at this time of year. I can’t wait to review this shortly!

Hoodoo BOOK COVERTitle: Memphis Hoodoo Murders

Author: Kathryn Rogers

Genre: Occult horror mystery

Date released: August 15th, 2015

Released by: Sartoris Literary Group

Length: 360 pages

Synopsis: Addie Jackson has witnessed people trying to kill her family her entire life, and now her grandparents’ attackers are hunting her. The Memphis police are never able to catch these crooks since the cops have been bewitched to stay away. Her grandparents, Pop and Grandma, habitually lie to Addie, but she is attentive enough to overhear the secrets they keep from her. In her predictive dreams, Addie regularly sees future events, which disturb her, but to her dismay, she has never been able to stop them from coming true. She often dreams of a dark character, who she is later shocked to discover is the Man, a devil from hoodoo legend. 

Addie is disturbed to discover she is being stalked by a witch doctor named Hoodoo Helen. To make matters worse, the more secrets Addie uncovers, the more danger she finds. Addie presses Grandma for answers about the power behind the ring and pocket watch she often toys with, but Grandma remains tight-lipped. Knowing their deaths are imminent, Grandma makes a deal with the hoodoo devil to take care of Addie, and Addie is later horrified to discover that her beloved family has been murdered. John, a family friend, steps in to help Addie, and she soon realizes he knows more about her family’s tainted past than she ever has. Addie begins receiving cryptic letters from her deceased grandmother, which reveal a shocking family history revolving around slavery, time travel, and magic. 

If Addie can survive jail, her cousin’s abduction, threats from a menacing gang, corrupt law enforcement, and hoodooed attacks, maybe she can finally dream of a future where she will be safe and free. 

AMAZON BUY LINK

Praise for Memphis Hoodoo Murders:-

Dripping with grisly spells, wry humor and a distinctly southern brand of magical realism, you’ll be quickly mesmerized by this magnetic paranormal thriller. A home run for author Kathryn Rogers.”Reviewed by Best Thrillers

Addie Jackson is not your average college student. For starters, she lives with her slightly odd grandparents in a not-so-nice part of Memphis, Tennessee. Most of her life revolves around taking care of her grandparents and trying to keep a low profile in her neighborhood instead of going on dates, talking about new music, and having fun. When her grandparents’ behavior becomes even more bizarre, there are break-ins at the church the family attends, and she begins to have dreams that come true, Addie becomes even more aware of the strange life she is living. She begins to believe that her grandparents have been hiding something from her for her entire life, something big, something that could put everyone’s lives in danger. Something that could mean that Hoodoo magic is real. Kathryn Rogers’ novel, Memphis Hoodoo Murders, immediately catches the reader with an exciting title and a surprising first chapter.Reviewed by Red City Review

 Author bio:

Kathryn RogersKathryn Rogers is a Memphis native with an affinity for local BBQ and blues rock-n-roll. As a licensed therapist, she holds her Masters in Counseling and Psychology, and as a licensed educator, she holds her Bachelors in Education. Her experience providing counseling services to the community prepared her to expound upon the psychological issues her characters wrestle with in her stories. She currently lives in Jackson, Mississippi with her husband, playful preschooler, and rambunctious Labrador Retrievers.

Readers can connect with Kathryn on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.

EXCERPT

Chapter 1

If I told you that people had been trying to kill my family and me my entire life, you would probably just think I was being paranoid, but it’s not paranoia if it’s real.

Sometimes healthy people run for exercise, and oftentimes energetic individuals run for fun. In my neck of the woods, you run just to stay alive. Today I only hoped that the gang members didn’t murder me so I could make it home in one piece. My legs were pumping so hard I thought they might fall off.

Grandma and Pop would tell you I’m petite and pretty when really I’m short and perfectly ordinary. I don’t look anything like them except that we are all small in stature, though I’m so little I look like a shrimp by comparison. I have straight, brown hair with no bangs, smooth skin, and sharp, green eyes. I’ve never dressed fancy as I’ve never had much to begin with. Besides, in my neck of the woods, when you get something shiny, folks try to take it or talk about you for having it, so the more you blend in, the better off you’re bound to be.

Hey, short stuff! You with the ponytail! I told you to get over here!”

It was my favorite neighborhood thug heckling me.

Just don’t trip. Whatever you do, don’t trip, Addie.

The limb from the fallen tree did not hear my inner monologue, because my foot caught on the log and slung me onto the sidewalk.

I told you there was no point in running from us,” he said coldly. “We always get what we want.”

I winced in pain and grabbed my right knee, which was running red. I felt like a bleeding fish in the middle of a shark tank.

Show no fear. Don’t cry.

I forced myself to stand and face my antagonists. Their clothes and tattoos were clearly reflective of the Memphis gang, the Skullbangerz—not that I would be privy to any admission from them about this.

Ouch! Looks like you got a boo-boo,” said a slim, jumpy guy, eyeing me from the stems up. “Want me to kiss on you to make it all better?”

No, thanks—you’re really not my type,” I said, thankful I had enough spirit to sound snarky.

Oohh, she’s a feisty one. I like that in a lady,” he toyed dangerously with me.

Enough with your mouth. You’re wasting my time.” The tall, muscular gang leader cut him off as he stepped towards me. “Yeah, you got to be her,” he remarked as he studied my face.

Got to be whom?” I asked sullenly.

June Jackson’s granddaughter,” Jaydon Swisher announced.

I was surprised that he knew who I was. Everyone around here knew him. Just thinking about his cruel reputation made me shudder.

How do you know her?” I asked to try to pump information out of him.

So, you is Mrs. Jackson’s girl?” he quizzed me clearly not wanting to give anything away.

What’s it to you?”

You ain’t in the position to be asking questions of me. You give me what I want, and I might let you go in one piece…might. You act uncooperative, and I’ll butcher you up while you’re still alive. Then I’ll mail individual pieces of you wrapped up as Christmas presents to your Grandma. Do you understand what I’m telling you right now?”

He was close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my neck.

I knew most people made idle threats. However, I could tell from the way the other gang members kept their distance from him, Jaydon was telling the Gospel truth.

The waterfall of blood continued to rain down my leg. Every fiber in my being told me to get as far away from them as possible. Unfortunately though, as history had indicated, I was too clumsy to outrun them. So, I stalled for time and willed myself to exhibit grace under fire.

The leader of the pack misinterpreted my silence for newfound cooperation and continued to press me, “So, where is it?”

Where’s what?”

*Promo w/excerpt* The Dreamer of Downing Street by Roberta L. Smith

Dreamer Cover Front Only Final300dpiTitle: The Dreamer of Downing Street

Author: Roberta L. Smith

Genre: Supernatural mystery, historical, romance

Date released: August 23, 2014

Length: 289 pages

Blurb: In 1944 Denver, twenty-six year-old Franklin Powell is doing what he does best, helping clients with his psychic gift. Then his brother causes the past to come crashing into the present and a memory Frank has kept buried since the age of six surfaces. Now his life is in an uproar. He must prove that what he remembers is true or his mother may spend the rest of her life in prison. But even if he succeeds, it appears there is a powerful someone behind the scenes who could care less if she is innocent. Why? Because of a seething hatred for Frank. To make matters worse, the woman he loves needs his help with a serious problem of her own—a problem that could get him killed. Frank can’t let that stop him. He dives right in and while his psychic gift doesn’t seem to be doing him any favors, it’s a good thing that a couple of newly-acquired ghosts appear to be on his side.

The Dreamer of Downing Street is the prequel to Roberta L. Smith’s Mickey McCoy series.

BUY LINKS: Amazon US and Amazon UK

Author bio:

Roberta L SmithRoberta Smith is a lifelong southern Californian born in Los Angeles who grew up with TV shows like The Twilight Zone and Leave It to Beaver. She always preferred stories with ghosts, monsters (Frankenstein) or the supernatural. As a kid, her hero was Boris Karloff. She’s written and published five novels, four of which are paranormal mysteries. Recently she teamed up with horror author Michael Raff to form Nevermore Enterprises and bring Horror Book Fest to the High Desert. She is an active member of the High Desert Branch of the California Writers Club and the Victor Valley Vettes Corvette Club.

Author links:

www.bertabooks.com

www.facebook.com/AuthorRobertaLSmith

twitter: Roberta L Smith@bertabooks

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

Leadville, Colorado – 1924

I COULD FEEL Mother’s anxiety the moment she took my hand to pull me out of the canvas top touring car. I landed with a squishy sound as my boots hit the sloshy ground and I righted myself. The sight before me was forlorn to say the least: a couple of cabins―shacks really―a privy, shed and the hoist frame of a mine shaft no longer in use, all dusted with snow. It was spring, but just barely. And it was cold.

“You’ll be all right with the boy,” our driver called to my mother from his seat inside the car, arm outside the window, finger pointed. “Just remember what I told you. Call her Mrs. Tabor. She don’t like when people address her as Baby Doe. Show her respect. If she opens the door with a shotgun in her hand, just talk real nice. She guards the Matchless like a rabid dog and don’t trust people much. I ain’t sayin’ I blame her, just that’s how she be.”

Mother nodded and started toward one of the cabins, my hand in hers. I nearly cried out that she was hurting me, her grip was that tight. But I thought better of it. A tongue lashing would most likely result and that would be more painful. I stuck my free hand in the right-hand pocket of my coat and grabbed hold of one of the toy cars I kept there.

My heart beat rapidly. I was anxious, too. Not because of where we were or who we were about to meet. I was concerned for Mother because I’d never seen her in such a state. She paused for a moment and took several deep breaths as she stared at the small, one-room shack ahead of us. It cast a friendless feel out here on the hill amid the other wooden structures that were all part of the derelict mine. Constructed of planks that had weathered many winters, it wasn’t exactly ramshackle, but it was close. Not that I would have thought of that word at the time. I was six.

After a few more steps, my anxiety left me and the happiness I felt at being on a trip with Mother—just me, not my older brother Bobby nor my older sister Jane, just me—took hold. My siblings got most of Mother’s attention at home. With only me in tow, I would be foremost in her mind.

I looked at the front door of the cabin and “knowings” hopped into my head. Back then, that’s what I called the psychic thoughts that came to me. I knew we were about to meet an old woman who had been beautiful at one time. So beautiful that other people had been jealous. I knew that she was hated and that she lived alone.

I will just have a talk with that woman. So what if she’s peculiar, if they say she’s lost her marbles . . .

I glanced up at Mother. “Here, Mama,” I said, offering her a fistful of aggies and cat’s-eyes I kept stashed in my pocket along with the cars.

“What?” Her brows knit together as she looked at the contents of my hand.

“You said she lost her marbles. She can have these.” 

*Promo* ABOUT WRITING by Suz deMello

Perfect for the advanced or aspiring author, ABOUT
WRITING includes both Write This, Not That! Suz deMello‘s bestseller, and the
newer Plotting and Planning, a primer on the basics: conflict and character,
point of view, scene and sequel…plus much, much more, written in deMello’s
engaging style.
 
ABOUT WRITING: your essential writing manual!
About Writing by Suz deMello is a small, but powerful
book for beginners and experienced writers alike. This little book is an
excellent reference to remind all authors of the goals of becoming a better
author.
I love that Ms. deMello started with this quote,
“There are three rules to writing a novel.  Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”
Somerset Maugham.
Is this not the truth?
How many times have we endeavored to learn the correct way to write and
then we pick up a best seller and the author has broken all the rules?  This being said, Ms. deMello explains in
clear language and with excellent examples the building blocks of writing.  She offers excellent ideas for developing
characters, plot, conflict, and even how to stir up an author’s creative juices.
I believe the most important message in this book is “everything in a story
should contribute to it, from the biggest monster to the tiniest comma.”
I highly recommend this book to anyone
interested in improving their writing. Keep it close and read it often.
Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue
Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including
erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of
short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s
held the positions of managing editor and senior editor, working for such firms
as Totally Bound and Ai Press. She also takes private clients. Her books have
been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a
contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller
lists. A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US
over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now
writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.
Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com
For editing services, email her at suzdemello@gmail.com
Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SuzDeMello
She tweets @Suzdemello