Jun 27, 2014

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Cover Reveal: Insurmountable by TE White


Title: Insurmountable
Author: TE White    
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Insurmountable Book Blurb
This isn’t some happy love story. If you want that, try something else. No, I own this nightmare and would have never guessed it could have happened to me.
My life is painstakingly puzzled out. And if I have to admit it, I fall for Red the first time I see her. In fact, she is the first of many things for me and maybe my last. She is the reflection of my happiness and the beginning to my end. She is the stain that covers my heart in the color of her blood-red hair.
Thoughts of her consume me and continue to bombard my mind like ricochet gunfire. So what can possibly go wrong, you wonder? A humorous chuckle escapes me, in case you didn’t hear it. Yeah, I can tell you, but you will judge me unfairly. This you need to hear from the beginning, so you know all the facts and feel what I felt. Maybe even sympathize and not give me your scorn. Then maybe you can possibly… possibly comprehend the enormity of my crossroads.
You have to know I never planned or meant for any of this. It isn’t my fault. It’s someone else’s sins that have efficiently destroyed my life in one fell swoop. My name?
My name is Tade Astor and happiness for me is insurmountable.

*Warning – this book contains explicit sexual situations and may not be suited for everyone.



T.E. White resides in New Jersey and is avid reader who spends stolen moments in time writing stories that will possible shock you, but hopefully in a good way. Writing isn’t a new dream and something T.E. White has been compelled to do. The ultimate goal is to entertain you and create provocative thoughts in your head. The fantasy is to create stories you love. Hopefully all will be achieved. When not writing, T.E. White can be found daydreaming about new stories, watching fantastic TV shows/movies, or spending time with family.

If you would like to connect, please use these links below.

Website http://www.tewhite.net
Twitter: @TEWhiteAuthor

Excerpt #1
Gavin asked, “Who’s the redhead you’ve been staring at all night?
My eyes shifted from the captivating creature back to my best mate who sported a smirk having caught me watching her. She was stunning with hair almost the same color as her strawberry colored lips, which contrasting sharply with her porcelain skin. Stupefied with lust, I was mesmerized by her barely revealed yet Venus Flytrap cleavage, intoxicating to look at but deadly to the heart.
“I don’t know her,” I said simply.
In the nearly four years I’d spent at St. Mary’s College of Maryland, a small private honors college on a stretch of remote eastern shore, I’d never seen her before. And I didn’t get the vibe she was local. According to Gavin, some high schools were larger in student population than our school. So it was odd our paths hadn’t crossed and I knew I would remember a face like hers.
“Why don’t you go talk to her before she thinks you’re some creepy stalker or you can take on Cruella for the night?” He laughed to himself at his joke about the girl who just passed us.
I tipped the beer I’d been nursing all night to my lips and took a long swallow. “Mind your business Gav.”
He chuckled. “No way some chick has you caught all up and you haven’t even said one word to her. This is priceless. In three and a half years, no one had you this wound up.”
I might have been coiled tight because my pants were uncomfortably tight. Any more pressure and I might just jizz. It had been too long since I’d gotten laid and I didn’t have difficulty getting any. That wasn’t the problem at all. I was just particular and choosy. It was important to maintain a low profile, as a Senator’s son. Tonight, the redhead in question was the reason I was all worked up. The trouble was she didn’t appear the type for a one night shag. And that was all I had to offer. Yet, I found myself walking in her direction.



Excerpt #2
A riptide of emotions clamped down on my throat rendering me unable to speak. I wanted to reach for Reagan’s hand before I let my own fall away. Stunned, I’d been unable to do anything but stare at the mouths that had continued to speak. However, the ringing in my ear prevented me from hearing a coherent word.
A single ember burned a chasm down my cheek. The blazing hot tear was as unfamiliar as it was appropriate given the situation. My world had burned to ash with the things said and not said in that room.
I felt like a foreigner while the walls moved in on me like a house of card ready to fall. Claustrophobia had set in and finally I faced the woman behind me. 
“Don’t,” I said, watching Reagan’s horror. She gazed at me like I was a monster. The stranger reflected in her eyes wasn’t me. “Please.” It was almost pathetic how I pleaded. How the mighty had fallen. I felt their pity and scorned them for it.
One woman had made me weak and I hated it and didn’t care all at the same time. She was it for me. If somehow they succeeded in poisoning her with their blasphemy, I would live my life a lonely and broken man. No way could I survive without her.



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Release Day Blitz: Saving Abel by Gina Whitney




Title: Saving Abel (Rocker Series: One)
Author: Gina Whitney
Genre: Erotica BDSM

Blurb:
Abel Gunner, the lead singer of the band Lethal Abel, is what beautiful nightmares are made of. His gritty, melodic rasp threatens to rip your heart out of your chest and leave you gasping for the very breath he robbed you of. His kisses, detonating on impact, leave you ruined. Abel is also a Dom, and his appetite for seduction is legendary and intense. After a chance encounter with Gia, his need to dominate this woman increases tenfold. He wants to consume her, merge with her, and never leave her body.
Abel's emerald eyes touch the deepest part of Gia's soul in a way that terrifies her. She fears he can see her secret. Lies, guilt, and betrayal lay beneath her skin, and she's terrified of being exposed. How will Gia ever begin to explain? She doesn't believe she's worthy of him, and her greatest fear is that her carefully guarded heart will be shattered. However, she finds herself unable to deny this rogue tattooed rocker whose kisses just might ruin her.




Author Bio:

Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.


Links:
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7093718.Gina_Whitney
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ginamwhitney



                                                                             The Dungeon I

On ecru initialed paper the understanding was brutally clear … You’re to be blindfolded and waiting on your knees for your Master. I reread a couple of times, my hands shaking with both fear of the unknown and the excitement of being delivered to the brink of aching pleasure. Man, I was fucked!
Folding the note in half perfectly seaming the edges, I wondered if I was biting off more than I could chew. The fluttering in my stomach mounted to upchuck levels as I picked up the Hermes silk scarf. I gentled it along my cheek before breathing in his alpha scent. Him. My eyes closed of their own accord, heart beating in concert with my pussy.  My clit was charged and primed already with my juices, the inner demonness scratching the surface of my psyche, relentlessly thrashing against confinement.
Twirling around in a sexual dream-state, my eyes took in floor-to-ceiling windows, lush drapes pulled back. Gasping heavily, I held my hand over my heart to keep the fucker in there. Was he planning to take me in the open—voyeur delight?  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then again this was about surrendering. A place my control had no say.
On the left was a free-standing bar, his guitar leaning against it.  Chrystal decanters lined the top. Amber-colored courage called out to my parched throat, begging, needing something to quell the tremors plaguing my body. I couldn’t. Could I?  Or was that breaking the rules? I couldn’t afford to piss him off, nor did I want to. I wanted to please him, to hand over the keys to my soul for him to take up occupancy. I needed to take purchase of the prime piece of real-estate—his heart.
Old demons besieged me with their clever mind tricks, fighting their way to the surface—sneering that I would lose the man I’d come to love because of my deceitful heart. The mother of all motherfucking karma’s was going to bite my ass—hard. I needed to lock these incessant nauseating thoughts where they belonged—behind a door that had no moral key and slam it shut.
Looking to the left, I saw the fire raging in the pastoral-styled fireplace. Above me, the erotic portrait of Abel loomed. In one hand he was holding a set of handcuffs, and in the other a red scarf—the exact red scarf I was now holding in my hand.
Perfect spot! Unbuttoning my pants and blouse, letting them both pool at my feet, I then took off my bra and panties. Flames licked my skin, helping to ease the goose bumps stepping out all over my body. Double-knotting the scarf, I lowered myself to my knees, thankful for the plush carpet. I sent a silent prayer of gratitude upwards—even though God had no place here today. Today, I would be rejoicing, reveling in and partaking of rituals practiced by heathens.
Tempering my breathing, I thought to myself: Namaste. But then the squeak of the door knob stopped all thought—all thinking—sending a shiver down my spine.  His innate maleness seeped into my pores, cocooning my skin in his alpha scent—marking my heart as his. Instantly, my body recognized him. An unwilling groan escaped me as my nether regions clenched in anticipation. He just chuckled.
                                                                        ~~~
"Very good. I see you followed my directions flawlessly. I see that beautiful pussy’s shaved bare for me. This pleases me, Gia. And you will see how much very shortly. But, are you ready for your Master?  If I part your folds, will you be slick and hot for me?" His warm breath tickled my ear.
My mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, until I finally croaked out, "Um, yes. I, um. I believe so, Abel.”  Christ, why was I reduced to a stuttering adolescent? He was fucking dangerous and hot, that was why! Steeling myself, I needed to woman the fuck up and show him who I really was.
Palming my chin he spoke gruffly. “Love, when we’re in this setting, I am your God, bringer of pleasure and pain.” He released me, clearly awaiting my praises.
“Yes, Sir. I understand perfectly,” I affirmed. My body chilled, knowing the moment he stepped away. The ring of the crystal decanter signaled loudly in the air. Rolling shudders had me clenching—hard. Moments ticked by at a snail’s pace, and I wanted to rip my hair out, my frustration building as he took his time, leaving me in this vulnerable position. He swallowed his drink. Padding back over in my direction, he brought that delicious signature scent of his my way.  It smelled of musk and something wild I couldn’t put my finger on.
“I’m going to taste you now,” he declared. What? Christ on a motherfuckin’ cross! Two thick fingers teased my clit round and round, spreading my silky juices along my seam, preparing me for his invasion. I held my breath. What else could I do?
“You smell like you want to be fucked.” He smiled appreciatively. “Breathe, Gia. Your God would like to sample you. I want to commit your taste to memory. Savor you on my tongue. Swallow your goodness,” he rasped, leaning into my ear. I wanted to scream just do it already. His beard scruffed against my face as he lowered his mouth down to my ear. Every breath, every heartbeat, every swallow, was mine, here. I had a front row seat to an erotic movie I was starring in.
Holding my shoulders firmly with his left hand, he roughly entered my opening. One breath in, one long breath out.  With precision, he inserted two fingers inside me, keeping his thumb on my trigger. I ground against his palm.
“You will not come—yet. Stay still or I’ll stop,” he affirmed.  Well, that did it! I needed release and needed it now. Fuck. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I was thankful for the blind-fold. He had to see how challenging this was for me. With a final stretching thrust he vacated my pussy. Pussy juice permeated the air, releasing another gush of wetness. His sucking sound ended with a loud pop, followed by a growl of approval.
“Taste.” He fisted my hair, driving his fingers into my open mouth.
“Taste how sweet your pussy is?” he queried. I had the perfect opportunity to bring him to his knees. My tongue languidly snaked its way around his fingers, sucking greedily any remaining ambrosia—with my own kickass resounding pop. Umm… I purred my contentment
A seismic roar rumbled its way free from his alpha chest. Oh, he was affected. Breaking dominant control momentarily, he lunged forward, fisting my hair, his tongue forcing my mouth open. Damn this Dom! My lungs fought for air. My hands braced against his muscled chest, alive with the vibrations from the beast tethered within—Abel. Dizziness threatened to take me under. Pulling air into my nose, I took a deep breath. Consuming me from the inside out, he didn’t let up. Apparently, my survival was to be damned. Now I needed to return his kiss. My hands found their way up his neck to his thick hair.  Grabbing a fistful, I pulled. He answered my call with his masterful tongue and gnashing teeth. Needing his cock in my pussy now, I reached for it, feeling its thick steeliness through his jeans. He gently removed my hands.  Disappointed, I lowered my head, taking the opportunity to nourish my blood with oxygen. He forced my hands behind my back. I sat on the back of my knees to steady myself.
“You have to earn that, babe. You haven’t earned my cock yet. And he has a bigger ego then I do.” He chuckled as he stood up, leaving me again. Was he serious? His dick had an ego?
Some shuffling of drawers opening and closing to my left had me turning my head in that direction. My legs tingled with anticipation and lack of activity. I hoped I wasn’t going to be on my knees too much longer. The snap of something caught my immediate attention. Licking my dry lips, swallowing the golf ball-sized knot, I readied myself. Sweet-smelling leather assailed my senses.
Do you know what the Cat o' nine tails is, Gia?” he asked. I had done some googling before this night, so I wouldn’t be ignorant to basic BDSM—knots, whips and positions 101. I had schooled myself quickly.
“Yes, Sir. A traditionally favored whip with nine separate tails,” I qualified. Quirking a smile, I awaited his answer. He replied by running the tails along my breasts … down to my pussy … snapping my clit to attention. Over and over again my body became acquainted with this new form of torture. Legs shakingI thrust myself to an upright position, hoping this little exercise would stop this embarrassing bodily display of minor earthquakes. No such luck. My body wanted to surrender to its Master. My breathing ratcheted to panic-attack levels. An explosion of epic proportions was near. Whack!—across my behind. Ow! Fuck me!
“Not nearly yet, sweetheart. That nice shade of red on your ass is making me hard as fuck, though,” he countered. Well, that’s not how I really meant it, but that’s exactly what I wanted—right the fuck now. He was turned on. And that turned me on. If his lash marks on my skin did it for him, I thought—then so be it.
“I want to taste you, Master. It’s only fair.” I was practically whining: throw me a fucking bone! This BDSM shit was killing me. I was not a patient person by nature. So I deserved a reward for the restraint I’d been practicing today. The sound of his zipper lowering caught my attention. The lava started to trickle down my legs again.
“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” He stepped up, smearing his pre-come on my lips. I moaned embarrassingly loud.
“Yes! More!” I demanded. He presented his cock to my tongue.  It stroked his piercings. Fuck me.
Expertly I lavished it with my tongue, paying homage to this rock God. Maybe his cock deserved its own zip code? This was a locale I wanted to move to—like, now. Pushing forward I sought his engorged balls. Licking, flickering, and tonguing at break-neck speed to the best of my ability, I made him roar. He ripped the scarf off, freeing my eyes from their prison.
Although my sight was restored, I still couldn’t see clearly. Squinting, I looked up towards his beautiful face—and even through the blurriness, I could tell that it was twisted in agony. He needed release. His eyes sparking with warning, he looked as if his thread-like hold on reality was virtually nonexistent. A sardonic smile wrenched his lips as he continued stroking his cock. Up. Down. Up. Twist. Down. Release. Up. Twist. Down. Release. His left hand squeezed his tightened sack roughly, his eyes glistening. His tongue snaked out to wet his plump lips. His sooty-lashed eyes closed for a moment as he blew out a long breath, battling for control. I gulped—hard. Something sparkly caught my upturned eyes, bringing my gaze back to his sack.
“Like what you see, babe?” He smiled proudly. His tatted cock was a kaleidoscope of vivid colors. The body of the dragon was done in green with the underside in orange scales, the whole length of his cock ending with the dragon’s head on his dick-head. His Apadravya shone brightly against the dragon’s headlooking like it was coming out of its mouth. His Mons provided the backdrop for the wings. He was a work of art I intended to worship fully. I tilted my head awkwardly left, then right. The head of his dick was pierced, and all along the dragon’s scaled underside were generous loops.
“Ya like those frenum loops, babe? Ya like that one through the head, the Apadravya? You’ll be thanking me soon for it.” His toothy smile made me blush at my naiveté. He took my lip-licking as a signal for further instruction in How to Suck Abel’s Cock 101.
“Relax. Open real wide. Get it nice and wet,” he instructed.
Relaxing my gag reflex as per his orders, I readied my throat for his invasion. Not only did I have to worry about his girth, but I had to guard against his hardware as well. My mouth was desert-dry, so I pursed my lips to conjure up enough saliva to get the job done. The wide tip of his cock made its way past my lips, netting a groan from me of appreciation for this male, as I lavished the small beads of pre-come on my tongue, relishing his heady taste. God damn. His hooded eyes caught mine as I acquiesced. I closed my eyes and sucked his head hard with a quick swirl around his Apadravya. I spit into my palm, pumping his cock once. Twice. His throaty groan made my clit swell. I loved his male sounds. I knew I was doing this right. I wanted more. More of him. More of that noise. Widening my mouth even further, I took his cock in deeply, paying close attention to his frenum loops with my tongue. The jingling within my mouth had me shuddering. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Tongue. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. His fingers found their home, deeply embedding in my scalp, the pain making my eyes mist. Licking from base to tip, I was on repeat. His eyes bored into me, watching me intently, appreciatively.
So I gave him one final swirling suck, letting my lips pop loudly. Then I tried the impossible:  to swallow him whole. Breathing through my nose, I watched. He watched. I swallowed. The thickness of his cock swelling was all the indication I needed. He was ready to blow—hard. My throat relaxed and opened to accommodate his girth further. Abel hissed and thrusted deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. He growled loudly, face-fucking me into oblivion. Surprising even myself, I swallowed his gift of spicy goodness, humming my appreciation to this deity. Swallowing it down and tongue-sucking his Apadravya, I inwardly smiled as I milked every last drop of elixir.
                                                                        ~~~
With a final groan I fell back and let the fibers of the rug absorb my fatigue. Mentally and physically, I was wiped out. I rubbed my fingers through the filaments, trying desperately to soothe my restless soul. At the moment, I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. His gentle fingers caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch.
“Oh babe, we’re not done. Come, I’ll carry you to my bedroom.” He bent down and scooped me up. Swaddled in his arms, I caught the look in his hooded eyes. A few long strides, and we were in his room. He gently laid me on his king-sized bed, then stepped back.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Care to join?” He motioned his hand to the bathroom in invitation.
“Nah, I’m good here for now. You go. If I change my mind, I’ll find you.” I smiled sleepily.
He nodded and left through the en-suite. Raising myself up on my forearms, I took in the room. Monochromatic black and white made up a majority of his palate choice, aside from his poppy-red silk shantung comforter. Everything was simple, yet elegant. It was clear that Abel sought the comfort of home and all of his familiar possessions. I guessed life on the road really was lonely.
Cocooning myself in the lush bedding, I concluded there was no better place to be. And no better thing than his scent. Lord above, if I could bottle his essence, I’d be a wealthy chick.  Grabbing his pillow I brought it to my nose, inhaling his heady alpha smell. A groan escaped me, and my clit was beyond engorged: it needed release—again. I needed to steal this pillow.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his smile reaching his eyes. I cursed inwardly. Busted. He reached for my legs and pulled me across the bed. Holy shit. His eyes were alit with mischief. He pulled me until my bottom was at the end of the bed. I laid there naked and began to feel self-conscious. I turned to grab the edge of the comforter.
“Don’t hide your body from me, Gia. Spread your legs for me. I want to see what’s mine. I want to taste your nectar,” he commanded—and I obeyed, spreading my legs.
When he didn’t respond, I grew anxious. There was a mirror on the wall next to the bed and I could see my reflection in it. What a turn-on. Me watching him—us, as his eyes devoured my pussy. He removed his towel from his waist and turned to see me watching tentatively in the mirror. He grabbed hold of his thick cock, stroking and smiling, as he watched me for a good long-ass minute. This was all one big mind fuck—and I was barely holding my own. My blood boiled while I watched his erotic exhibition. Boy, was he ever a showman. He knelt down and seized both my thighs, pulling them back into a V across my chest. The image of us in the mirror was arousing. He pressed his nose along my pussy, inhaling deeply.
“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Gia. I’m a man starved for this pussy. When I’m done, I’m going to fuck you like the devil. My cock will be everything you’ve wished for, babe.” He winked. Cocky motherfucker. Holding my legs in place, he dove face-first into my pussy, pushing his tongue deep inside me—growling, devouring me whole. The sounds of him sucking, licking, and nipping my pussy made my muscles lock up. I reached for his hair. I needed to touch him. I wanted to hold his head to my pussy until I was good and ready to let go.
“Gia, put your damn hands above your head or I will tie you to the bed,” he growled. I acquiesced. I would have fucking died or killed someone if he had stopped. Oh God, don’t stop.
“God has no place here, babe.” His voice was demonic. Had I just said that aloud? Never lifting his face from his meal, he pushed my knees almost flush against my chest, lathering his face in my juice. Oh, God. His growling, biting, and sucking were sounds I would never forget. He was feral. Possessed. Using two fingers, he starting finger-fucking me as he sucked my clit. My legs shaking with deep vibrations, I started to rock my hips. Twisting the comforter in my hands, I began screaming. But he wouldn’t let up. The rumbling from his chest I barely registered as I floated back down to earth. My eyes now opened to a savage beast, leaning over to bite my inner thing. I yelped in surprise. He stood tall and proud, stoking his long, thick, massive cock, his face still glistening with my come. Nothing registered to this alpha. He had one thing on his mind and that was sinking his gorgeous cock into my soaked pussy.
“You want this cock now, babe?” he asked through gritted teeth.  Still stroking it, he spit in his hand. Fucking hell.
“Please, Abel. I want you now,” I begged. I needed him now.
“Need to hear you say it, babe. Tell me you want me to sink my cock deep in you.” His voice was barely audible.
The grit in his tone had me wanting to grab his dick and fuck myself with it. He was watching me closely, his control threadbare.
“Abel, fuck me with that big gorgeous cock of yours. Grind that piercing over my clit,” I hissed. That did it! He couldn’t wait another minute—neither could I. He teased the entrance with the head. Going agonizingly slow, he paid special attention to my clit with his Apadravya: back and forth, round and round. The pressure mounted. I couldn’t handle another second of the exquisite torture. I leaned forward and grabbed his cock—hard.
“Stop fucking with me, fucker, and fuck me already,” I pleaded. He answered by feeding me his cock—one motherfucking inch at the time.
“I have to loosen you up a bit. I can’t go balls-deep yet. Let me work myself in there. Love my girl greedy for my cock. Gets me harder than fucking stone.” He growled breathlessly. Leaning over me, his eyes hooded, he fed me his delicious, scorching cock. He leaned down over my face, arms positioned on either side of my head. His warm breath hummed in my ear, as his hand reached down to stroke my clit.
“Come on, babe. Open for me,” he rumbled. Thrusting a bit harder and quicker, I felt my body breaking apart for this mythical creature. My eyes closed tightly as I tried to wrap my legs around his waist to lock him in place.
“Not yet, babe. I haven’t worked in my rings yet. I’ll tell you when you need to hang on.” He nipped my ear. I sighed. Fuck, I had thought he was all the way in! Christ, I wasn’t built for this kind of torment. I reached down to his butt cheeks and clamped down with my hands, pulling him deeper inside me. He corkscrewed his ass over and over. I screamed in pleasure.
“That’s it, mama. Scream for me. You’ll be doing a lot more of that,” he exclaimed. Biting my lip to stay in the present and not float away, I took a mental screenshot of the moment. I felt so full, with my walls stretched to accommodate his girth. With each thrust he sank deeper. And I fell a little harder. Yeah, I was fucked. Literally. The sound of my blood pumping through my veins roared in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was my breathing or his. It was a hodgepodge of ecstatic noises. He placed his hands over mine, pinning them above my head.
“Arch your back for me, babe, and spread those pretty legs nice and wide. I’m going to own this pussy right the fuck now,” he hissed. I did as he asked, completely submitting. After all, this was what he had asked for: total and utter submission.
“That’s it, babe. Offer me that sweet cunt,” he whispered. How did he make my least favorite word sound like a fucking sonnet? I felt so incredible—so alive, our bodies in tune with one another, rutting rhythmically in a crescendo of lust, his frenum rings hitting spots I’d never sensed before. He manipulated my body with expert precision. I regarded his handsome face, relishing this beautiful man on top of me. His eyes bore into me with stealth-precision. Looking directly into my soul, he smiled wickedly, then kissed me deeply. Arrogant prick. Yeah, he knew he was the best ride in town. Fuck me.
Grinding my heels into the mattress to get better leverage, I met him thrust for thrust. He moved his fingers from my clit. With his other hand still pinning my arms above my head, he pushed my right thigh up from under my knee. Just then he hit a whole new angle and I lost it. Screaming his name, I clenched my pussy, squeezing his cock. As he jack-hammered me, I felt his head swell further. He released my hands, rushing to his knees. After a few long strokes of his dick, his hot thick ropes of come painted my tits and stomach. Yeah, he was an artist, all right. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted. His breathing was hurried, his body still. He looked like a fucking God—absolutely stunning. I would never get this image out of my head.
He opened his eyes finally—to see his handiwork, watching me closely. I smiled in post-coital bliss. I was blissed the fuck out. He leaned over and on top of me, kissing me with his full lips, coaxing my mouth open with his talented, wicked tongue, not caring that his come was smeared all over his body. Most men would mind. But he wasn’t most men.  I accepted his kisses with a moan.
He kissed me for a long while until sleep drew me under. I slept without dreams, with just the sensation floating behind my eyelids of colorful pastel swirls. If I had any conscious thought it felt much akin to Alice and the rabbit hole. My body was enveloped in his scent, marking me right down to the bone. I would forever be his—whether he knew it or not. His to control. His to do with as he wished. His to consume, to eat away at my very soul. I was in that deep. My veins ran with his essence, the fuel, the nourishment, my body craved. His melodic gritty voice carried me to the surface of consciousness. It was faint, but it spoke to my heart—awakening me.
I opened my eyes, seeking him out. He was singing an a cappella version of …? What song was that? I knew it wasn’t one of Lethal Abel’s. I listened keenly, searching for any frame of reference. Oh, now I knew!  It was his version of Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse.” His had an edge to it. Nonetheless, it was beautiful.  And more importantly, it was quintessential Abel. He mastered everything he did, on his terms.
Make me your cupid—
Make me your one and only
But don’t make me your enemy, your enemy, your enemy
So you wanna play with magic
Girl, you should know what you’re falling for
Baby, do you dare to do this?
‘Cause I’m coming at you like a dark horse
Are you ready for a perfect storm, a perfect storm?
‘Cause once you’re mine, there’s no going back …
[Listen to OLN’s version of “Dark Horse” here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKVknRFEhpc.]
Oh, God. His version of reality was quickly becoming mine. I laid back down and let his voice pull me back under again, swathing me in his gravelly tones—carrying me to him.

Jun 16, 2014

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Cover Revamp: Blood Ties by Gina Whitney


Title: Blood Ties
Author: Gina Whitney
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Synopsis:
College senior Grace is half witch, half mortal, and one of the most powerful supernatural beings in existence. Problem is she doesn’t know any of this yet.

But she’s about to find out—and fast. Her powers are awakening, and Grace is in danger as her transformation reignites an ages-old war between her clan and an evil rival witch faction that will stop at nothing to see Grace dead so their leader, the vicious, ruthless Catherine, can harness Grace’s incredible powers for her own dark purposes.

It’s up to Grace’s immortal Aunt Evelyn and her best friend Julie—a shape shifter from a long line of Native American mystics—to defend her. She also has James on her side, a witch from the Bolingbroke clan that has vowed since Grace’s birth to keep her safe. From the moment they meet, the two share a fierce supernatural attraction—a white-hot heat that neither can resist. Will their undying love protect her or put her in greater danger? Only time will tell, and time for Grace is running out.

Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sItnX6JkwrQ&sns=em
Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ginamwhitney


“Don’t you have any feelings for me?” he asked, sounding sincere. His head was tilted down, his eyes looking up. He was coming to the painful understanding that I really did want his brother instead.
“No, I don’t have any feelings for you. Sorry.”
With those words I delivered a fatal wound to Adrian’s heart. It killed him to be rejected by the only woman he’d ever cared for. His emotions took a sharp turn, going from raw pain to unbridled fury. He pushed me backward with such force that I flew about fifteen feet.
“I have done nothing but love you since the day I met you. And you—you bitch—strung me along like a puppet. You are not getting away with that.”
Adrian pounced on me. He was heavier than his thin body suggested, and he weighed me down. He was turning into that monster I’d seen at the killing ritual. His nails started to claw up as he ripped my shirt apart, and left deep cuts. He kissed my chest savagely and covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream. My fangs came down, and I fought to open my lips so I could bite him. I tried to use telekinesis to get him off me, but my terrified state blocked it.   
“I’m taking what’s due me,” he said with a little froth in the corner of his mouth. He ripped the zipper out of my pants as if it were made of papier-mâché. He moved his sweaty hand away from my mouth. I bit wildly at the air, hoping to land my teeth in his flesh.
During the wrestling match, I was able to slam Adrian in the nuts. He rolled off me, clutching himself. I staggered to my feet and booked it to the house. Meanwhile, Adrian fought through his pain, ran me down, and tackled me. I landed on my stomach with him on my back, a puff of dirt rising around us. He straddled me, his knees digging into the backs of my spread thighs. I thought they were going to break. When Adrian got full control over me, he got between my legs and started pulling my pants down. Then I heard the sound of his belt unbuckling.

Jun 14, 2014

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!Blog Tour! The Luthier's Apprentice by Mayra Calvani


Title: The Luthier’s Apprentice
Author: Mayra Calvani       
Genre: YA Paranormal Fantasy
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Promo blurb:
Niccolò Paganini (1782-1840), one of the greatest violinists who ever lived and rumored to have made a pact with the devil, has somehow transferred unique powers to another…  
When violinists around the world mysteriously vanish, 16-year-old Emma Braun takes notice.  But when her beloved violin teacher disappears… Emma takes charge. With Sherlock Holmes fanatic, not to mention gorgeous Corey Fletcher, Emma discovers a parallel world ruled by an ex-violinist turned evil sorceress who wants to rule the music world on her own terms. 
But why are only men violinists captured and not women? What is the connection between Emma's family, the sorceress, and the infamous Niccolò Paganini?  
Emma must unravel the mystery in order to save her teacher from the fatal destiny that awaits him.  And undo the curse that torments her family—before evil wins and she becomes the next luthier's apprentice…


Award-winning author Mayra Calvani has penned over ten books for children and adults in genres ranging from picture books to nonfiction to paranormal fantasy novels. She’s had over 300 articles, short stories, interviews and reviews published in magazines such as The WriterWriter’s Journal and Bloomsbury Review, among others. A native of San Juan, Puerto Rico, she now resides in Brussels, Belgium.
Connect with the author on the Web:

Purchase links:



The Luthier’s Apprentice

Chapter One

Brussels, Belgium
Present day

Sixteen-year old Emma Braun got off the school bus and strode down Stockel Square toward her home. She glanced up at the October sky and wrapped her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Heavy dark clouds threatened a downpour.  
As she passed a newspaper stand, the headlines on The Brussels Gazette caught her attention:
ANOTHER VIOLINIST VANISHES!
Emma stopped. For a moment she could only stare. She dug into her jacket pocket for coins and bought a copy.
The newspaper article left her stunned. Not only because three well-known violinists had gone missing in the last several months, but because the latest one was her teacher, Monsieur Dupriez.
The news story seemed so hard to believe, she stopped at the next street corner to read it one more time.
It was the last week of October, and the shops and homes were lightly adorned with Halloween decorations. Pumpkins and Jack-o-lanterns sat on doorsteps. Witches, broomsticks, and black cats hunkered down in windows and shops. Just last evening, Emma had sauntered along this street with her best friend Annika, unconcerned and looking forward to Halloween. Now, everything had turned dark and ominous.
The strange incidents she had experienced for the past two weeks added to her stress.
At first she had thought they were a string of coincidences, but not anymore. While scowling at obnoxious Billie Lynam during school recess, for instance, she wished he would fall flat on his face… and half a minute later, her wish was granted. On various occasions she guessed people’s thoughts before they spoke. And yesterday, on her way home from school, she accurately guessed the meal her mom had left on the table for her.
Was she some kind of a psychic? If so, why now? People didn’t develop powers like these overnight. Did they?
She hadn’t told her mom about her new abilities yet; only Annika knew. Maybe she would tell her mom today, after she shared the news about Monsieur Dupriez.
As Emma approached her home, she quickened her step. By the time she reached the door she was almost running. She raced into the hallway and dropped her book bag on the floor.
“Mom!” she called, looking in the kitchen, then in the living room. The house was silent. “Mom!” she called again, racing up the stairs to the bedrooms. Entering her mother’s room, Emma found her sitting very still on the bed with a crumpled letter in her hand.
When her mom saw her, she hastily put the crumpled piece of paper into her pocket and rose from the bed. Her arched brows were furrowed with anxiety.
Emma momentarily forgot the newspaper article. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’ve just received some unsettling news,” her mom said. “I must make a trip to see your Aunt Lili. She’s ill. She…I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Aunt Lili? Emma frowned. More surprises. Emma had never met her mom’s eccentric only sister, who lived alone in the Hungarian mountains secluded in an old chateau surrounded by dark woods—or so her mom said. Though again, her mom hardly ever mentioned her.
“What’s wrong with Aunt Lili?” Emma asked. “Can’t I come with you?” She had always been intrigued by her mysterious aunt.
“No. You’ll stay with Grandpa. You enjoy working with him, don’t you?” Her brown eyes met Emma’s before turning away, and though her voice sounded matter-of-fact, Emma detected a trace of ambivalence.
Emma sighed. She loved violin making with a passion, but Grandpa was a bitter taskmaster. No matter how much she tried to please him, she never could. Maybe that’s why her mom often seemed so reluctant about her apprenticeship.
“I’d rather go with you,” Emma said. “Plus, next week is holiday.” All Saints holiday week—or Toussaint, as they called it here—almost always coincided with Halloween.
“That’s out of the question. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Besides, you can’t miss your violin lessons, not with the Christmas competition at the academy coming up soon.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Emma said gravely, extending the newspaper.
Her mom took it. “What’s this?”
“This is why I came running up the stairs.”
Her mom read the headlines. She gasped and looked at Emma. When she finished reading, she sat on the edge of the mattress and stared into space. “Oh, my God...” she whispered.
Emma sat next to her mom. “It says Monsieur Dupriez disappeared in his study. The doors and windows were locked from the inside. The police don’t have any explanation. How can this happen? It’s not logical. It’s not humanly possible.”
“No, not humanly possible…”
“Just like the other three—that German violinist, the French one, the American. Nobody has explained their disappearances. Who would want to kidnap violinists?” When her mom didn’t answer, she began to gnaw at her fingernail.
As if by reflex, her mom pulled Emma’s hand away from her mouth.
“Sorry,” Emma mumbled. “I’m just worried about him.”
“Poor Madame Dupriez. We must visit her. She must be in quite a state.”
“Can you call her now?”
Her mom sighed. “I will. In a moment.” She looked at Emma, her features softening. Gently, she smoothed Emma’s glossy chestnut locks and side fringe away from her face. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. You mustn’t be afraid.”
“Afraid? Why would I be afraid?”
“I mean, about Monsieur Dupriez.” Her mom appeared flustered.
“I’m not afraid. I’m worried, and angry. I want to find out what happened to him. Without him, I don’t even want to take part in the competition.”
Monsieur Dupriez had been Emma’s teacher since she was four years old. But more than teacher, he was her mentor.
“You will do your best at the competition—with or without Monsieur Dupriez. Do you hear me?” her mom said. Then her voice softened. “Listen, darling, I know how close you are to Monsieur Dupriez, but you cannot allow his disappearance to destroy your chances at the competition. I’m not asking you to win, only to do your best. You have great talent, a gift, and your duty is to use it to the best of your ability. Never forget this. Monsieur Dupriez would never want you to forget this.”
“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong with Aunt Lili,” Emma said, changing the conversation. “Why must you go to her now, after all these years?”
Looking into Emma’s face, her mom hesitated, as if unable to decide what—or how much—to say. “You know she’s always been ill, a recluse. She…” She rose from the bed and walked to the window, then opened the curtain. It had started raining, the drops pelted against the glass. “This time it’s serious. She may die.”
Emma couldn’t help feeling a twinge of suspicion. She hated distrusting her mom, whom she loved more than anything in the world, but this time her mom was lying. Emma trusted that feeling, another of her freaky new abilities. She felt an overwhelming urge to chew her fingernails, but tried to control herself. For her mom, a violinist’s hands were a work of art.
“But what’s wrong with her? What kind of disease does she have?” Emma insisted.
“Her heart is very weak.” Her mom turned away from the window to face Emma. Her voice was laced with impatience.
And again Emma thought: She’s lying.
“Please don’t worry about it,” her mom went on in a lighter tone. “I’ll try to come back soon.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as I can manage.”
“Grandpa is always in such a nasty mood,” Emma complained.
“Well, that isn’t news, is it?” Her mom stared down at the floor, as if absorbed by her own thoughts. After a pause, she added, “He’s old and his back always hurts. You know that.”
“I love Grandpa, but he’s so freaking…” She tried to come up with the right word. Bizarre.  Instead she said, “Mysterious. You know, with his violins.”
Her mom looked at Emma and frowned, as if waiting for her to say more.
“You know what I mean, Mom. With that room at the top of the stairs. The one that’s always locked.”
Her mom’s features hardened. “He keeps his most valuable pieces in there. You must never disobey him. He would be very disappointed.”
“Who said I would go in there?” Emma asked, trying to sound innocent. If there was something she intended to do, it was going inside that room. Once she’d almost been successful. For some crazy reason, Grandpa had forgotten to lock it one day. But the instant she touched the doorknob, he had called her from the bottom of the stairs, his wrinkled features twisted into a mask that had left her frozen. He had appeared enraged and afraid at the same time.
“When are you leaving?” Emma asked, shaking off the past to focus on the present issue.
“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, probably. I’ll get the plane tickets today.”
“Mom...”
“Emma, please. If you’re going to complain or say anything negative, I don’t want to hear it.”
Fine. Obviously, this wasn’t the best time to bring up her new psychic powers. She headed to the door.
“Where are you going?” her mom asked.
“To my room.”
“I’ll call Madame Dupriez to see if we may visit her after dinner. In the meantime, I want you to pack. You’re moving to Grandpa’s tomorrow.”
In her room, Emma dragged her suitcase from the top shelf in the closet and set it on the floor.
“Hi, Sweetie,” she said to Blackie, her rabbit. “Want to get some exercise?” She opened the cage door so Blackie could hop out and roam about her room. Blackie was housebroken, and smart as a cat—or close to it.  
She stared at the elegant taffeta gown hanging from her wardrobe door, a strapless design a la Anne Sophie Mutter she’d already bought for the upcoming violin competition.
She sighed.
Slumped on the bed, Emma wondered for the umpteenth time about Monsieur Dupriez’s strange disappearance.
Where could he be?



Jun 4, 2014

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Blog Tour & Giveaway: Crimson Fire by Bella Harte



Title: Crimson Fire ~ Book II ~ The Seraphoenix Saga
Author: Bella Harte
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance ~ YA Fantasy
Hashtags: #YAPNR #YALit #TeenReads #Angels
Expected Publish Date: 22nd May 2014
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Blog Tour: 1st – 14th June
Cover Artist: Jessica Allain Art
Book Blurb:
It was meant to be fixed… her destiny back on track, how wrong could she be…
Just when Scarlett thought everything was back to normal, well as normal as life can be with a posse of Seraphoenix Angel Guardians looking out for you.  She wakes to find her life plunged into a whole new nightmare, where time itself has changed and she appears to be the only one aware of it.

In this new reality everything has altered, Leo and the Seraphoenix are missing.  Even her parents are different, as they turn against her when she is unexpectedly framed for things she didn't do.  To make matters worse she is unceremoniously shipped off to a supposed reform school for out of control teens in the wilds of ‘god-knows-where’ escorted by someone she recognises and really wished she didn’t.

Nothing is what it seems at the new school and the pupils are less than hospitable.  Scarlett finds herself in one deadly situation after another at the mercy of all those around her, and there is no-one she can trust with her secret.
Can Scarlett escape the menacing clutches of evil in this new reality?
Will Leo come to her rescue?


Bella Harte has been writing for well over a decade, and completed several novels before deciding to go in a whole new direction and write for the Young Adult genre. More specifically the YA PNR – Young Adult Paranormal Romance category.
Her first published YA Novel was ‘Scarlett Phoenix’ - Book I in The Seraphoenix Saga in 2012, with Book II:- ‘Crimson Fire’ being scheduled for release in 2014 and Book III:- ‘Red Ashes’ for 2015.
She has also been working on two other YA PNR series:
The Angel of Death Series
Book I – Reaper     Book II – Touched     Book III – Afterlife
Nine Lives Series
Book I – The Glaring    Book II – Midnight Calling     Book III - Hunters Moon   
Aside from writing, Bella has also worked as a fashion designer and interior designer. She lives in a quiet part of rural England with her gorgeous husband, who doesn't mind in the slightest if she vanishes for hours at a time into her writing cave.
Author Links:
Twitter: www.twitter.com/BellaHarteBooks @BellaHarteBooks
LinkedIn: LinkedIn


The give-away runs from the 15th May to 14th June
Up for grabs: 1 x Gorgeous Sparkly Silver Feather Pendant & Chain ~ 1 x £10 Amazon Giftcard (UK only) ~ 1 x $10 Amazon Giftcard (USA only) ~ 4 x Gorgeous Silver Feather & Crystal Charm Bracelets ~ 4 x Fabulous Silver Feather & Crystal Bookmarks ~ 4 x Fantastic Silver Feather & Crystal Phone Charms ~ 4 x Funky Silver Feather & Crystal Handbag Charms ~ 4 x Crimson Fire Ebooks