Thursday, October 30, 2014

Knights of Stone by Lisa Carlisle a #FallingIntoLove Read

Knights of Stone

Highland Gargoyles 1

Gargoyles, tree witches, and wolf shifters have divided the Isle of Stone after a great battle twenty-five years ago. When Kayla, a tree witch, hears about the unconventional rock concerts in the gargoyle’s territory, she sneaks from her coven and into their territory to see for herself. Night after night, she returns to see one in particular shift into human form and play guitar at these unconventional shows.


For several nights, Mason has kept watch for the pixie-like female. He plans to seduce her, thinking she’s a visitor from another island. When he discovers she’s one of the tree witches, he retreats, attempting to keep his distance. The temptation is strong, but forbidden.


Kayla and Mason attempt to meet in secret, but other elements on the isle command their attention. A magical cloak created by the three clans on the island is thinning, leading to repercussions for all the clans. Kayla and Mason are caught in the middle of it, and their actions may change the fate for all.


This novella was originally released as part of the USA Today bestselling Highland Shifters paranormal romance boxed set.



The crowd pushed Kayla closer to the stage as the last trails of fiery sunset faded. They knew what happened once darkness fell. She recovered her footing and focused again on the five life-sized stone gargoyles perched on pedestals on the perimeter of the stage. The space between them was set with instruments—guitars, a drum set, mic stands, and massive amplifiers, while a bonfire in a pit behind them cast the statues in a warm glow.

A stagehand with tartan draped over one shoulder climbed onto the stage and walked to the closest statue. He fastened the kilt over its shoulder and around its waist with a thick belt, covering the statue’s massive thighs. Kayla flushed, picturing why the coverings were necessary once the transformation began. The kilt had become a key detail in her fantasies about the guitarist, since it was the only clothing he wore. The stagehand continued dressing each statue with the same brilliant blue tartan worn by the gargoyle clan.

The last vestige of sunlight disappeared from the sky, and night draped the stage like a closing curtain. The statues loomed, dark silhouettes barely discernible by the crescent moon with the backdrop of the craggy cliffs and the rugged peaks of waves in the Atlantic Ocean behind them. The murmur of voices was replaced by silence. Waiting…

Five torches blazed on the stage all at once, lit by an unseen force. The audience erupted in cheers as the dancing lights from the flickering fire basked the statues. The flames lowered, casting the gargoyles in an eerie, almost reverent glow.

Movement. So slight, Kayla wondered if it was simply a play of light and shadows in her anticipation for the change. She fixed her gaze on the statue in front of her, the one she’d gravitated to each time she’d had sneaked out to see the show. Its massive gray form stood straight on two legs built for sturdiness. Its chest jutted out proudly. Gray wings with detailed feathers etched in the stone arched from a point below its shoulder blades. Eyes cast straight ahead on a face that appeared to be a mixture of canine and lion. Its right hand twitched, so slightly she would have missed it if she hadn’t stared so intently. Then a clawed foot inched forward.

Murmurs of astonishment burst from the crowd as the transformation began. Their cries of fervor grew louder as the monstrous statues transformed into taller, slimmer figures with the bronzed skin of warriors who battled under the midday sun. The tartan fabric fell over their thighs as they stood erect, covering their nudity.

Kayla barely blinked, mesmerized as always, as the statue before her stood to full height, taking on the form of a human male, but with beautiful raven wings. Hair just as black snaked rebelliously past his chin. The stony eyes flickered with animation, turning to a mossy green. His deep gaze seared the audience, seeming to burn anything in the path. When he found Kayla, he stopped. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his unblinking eyes made her swallow. She froze under the scrutiny as if hypnotized, unable to break eye contact. Her stomach lurched, heart pounded, and every muscle in her body tightened, fueled with blood now scorching through her veins. His penetrating appraisal affected her so. When his eyes took on a smoldering glint, her skin tingled and a red-hot awareness grew between her thighs.

He broke the stare and continued to assess the audience. She gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath, and panted while she tried to breathe at a normal rate.

He turned on robust legs and strode to a guitar stand. She tore her eyes from him to note the other gargoyles. They, too, had shifted into the form of striking males. One had black hair draped further down his back, one had long blond hair, and two had reddish-brown hair—one wavy and shaggy, the other straight. They took their place at other instruments. She sought the guitarist again and caught the first sound of the pick striking the strings. On hearing the guitar projected through the amp, the crowd roared again, pressing Kayla forward.

The freak show was about to begin.

Spotlights flooded the musicians, powered by solar panels near a massive amplifier. The guitarist continued playing and the others joined in, playing a raucous crossover between hard rock and heavy metal. The one with long blond hair grabbed hold of the microphone and belted out a shattering cry that sounded like a call to battle. The crowd went pin drop silent to listen and then cheered in unison as the band played on. The front man sang piercing growls and low croons about the Knights in Stone, the protectors of the ancient forests, battling against the evil tree witches.

Kayla’s coven. 



Buy now:


About Lisa Carlisle:

Lisa Carlisle is a USA Today Bestselling author of romance and suspense. She loves stories with dark, brooding heroes and independent, caring heroines.  Her travels have provided her with inspiration for various settings in her novels, including deployments while she served in the Marines. She lived in Parris Island, the California desert, and Okinawa, Japan. She also backpacked alone through Europe, and lived in Paris, France, as an au pair before returning to the U.S. and buying a book store. She now lives and works in New England with her husband, two children, a cat, and many fish. 

Connect with Lisa:


Twitter: - @lisacbooks

 Thanks for sharing your book with us,


Tuesday, October 28, 2014

The @GoddessFish Presents Brenda Novak's The Heart of Christmas

 photo SBB_TheHeartOfChristmas_CoverBanner_zps8a6f4fc7.jpg
The Heart of Christmas

by Brenda Novak






Just call her Christmas Eve…


Eve Harmon has always enjoyed Christmas, but this year it reminds her of everything she doesn’t have. Almost all her friends are married now, and that’s what Eve wants, too. Love. A husband and kids of her own. But the B-and-B she manages and even Whiskey Creek, the small Gold Country town where she was born and raised, suddenly seem…confining.


As Eve turns thirty-five, she’s worried that her future will simply be a reflection of her past. She’s dated all the eligible men in the area. There’s no one she could even imagine as a husband—until a handsome stranger comes to town. Eve’s definitely attracted to him, and he seems to have the same reaction to her. But his darkly mysterious past could ruin Eve’s happily ever after—just when it finally seems within reach. Just when she’s counting on the best Christmas of her life!






Moving slowly to compensate for her hangover, she managed to prop herself against the headboard and, once there, frowned at her bedmate.


Who the heck was he?


She had no idea, but she was relieved to see that he was no bum off the street. He wasn’t even one of those “he looked a lot more attractive last night” kind of pickups everyone joked about. This guy was so far above average that she began to wonder why he wasn’t already taken. Heaven forbid that was the case! She didn’t see a ring on his left hand, which rested on the pillow above his head. But he had to have some story. If he looked this good sleep-tousled, she could only imagine what he’d be like once he had a chance to clean up.


It was his bone structure, she decided. Those pronounced cheekbones. The narrow bridge across his nicely shaped nose. The distinct ridge of his upper eye sockets. He also had a strong chin and a manly jaw, which certainly didn’t detract.


So maybe she couldn’t point to just one or two features. With his long, sandy-colored hair spread across his pillow, he resembled a fallen angel—and his body further enhanced that image. Although bedding covered his lower half—thank goodness—she could see his torso. He was built like a greyhound or panther, lean and sinewy and ideally proportioned with very little body hair. What body hair he did have was golden and downy, as appealing as his tanned skin.


He’d make a nice subject for a painter, she mused, someone looking for refined masculine beauty—a man who could even be called elegant.


But not everything about him was elegant. When she looked closer, she could see that he had some very unusual scars….


What types of injuries could’ve caused those? she wondered. It seemed to her that he’d been shot, and more than once. Several round, bullet-size marks dotted his chest. Then there was a long, jagged scar on his side that must’ve come from something else….


Out of nowhere—he didn’t open his eyes first, so she had no warning—he grabbed her wrists in a crushing grip and slammed her onto her back.


Eve gasped as she stared up at him. Gone was the image of an angel, fallen or otherwise. Shocked at being so easily and unexpectedly overpowered, she couldn’t even scream. His fierce expression, as if he was intent on causing her bodily harm, made it worse.


Had she brought home a homicidal maniac? Was he about to kill her?


The terror that surged up must’ve shown on her face because he suddenly came to his senses. He gave his head a shake. His expression cleared and, letting go, he eased off her and slid back onto his side of the bed.


“Sorry about that. I thought…” His words trailed off, and he covered his eyes with one arm as if he needed a moment to pull himself together.


Her heart was now pounding in unison with her head. But once she could speak somewhat normally, she prompted him to finish his sentence. “Thought what?”


His lips turned down. “Never mind. I was dreaming.”


She pressed a hand to her chest as though she could slow her galloping pulse. “It couldn’t have been a pleasant dream.”


“They never are,” he muttered.






 photo AuthorPic_zpsde9fd0b1.jpg
AUTHOR Bio and Links:


New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Brenda Novak is the author of more than fifty books. A four-time Rita nominee, she has won many awards, including the National Reader’s Choice, the Bookseller’s Best, the Book Buyer’s Best, the Daphne, and the Holt Medallion. She also runs an annual on-line auction for diabetes research every May at (her youngest son has this disease). To date, she’s raised over $2 million. For more about Brenda, please










Brenda will be awarding a $100 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $50 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn host.

Please use this rafflecopter code on your post: a Rafflecopter giveaway

The 12 Days of Christmas Contest:

Thanks Brenda for sharing your book with us,


Monday, October 27, 2014

A #FallingInLove Erotic Romance – Her Bareback Cowboys by @YlettePearson


When riding bareback proves too much of a temptation to resist…

When the Groundhog Saddle Company awards twenty-six-year-old freelance photographer and divorcee, Adrian Barlow the coveted assignment of advertising their saddles and other leather products, she jumps at the opportunity. Her bank account is in dire need of replenishing and her reputation as a photographer hangs by a shred over a bottomless abyss. Even when her employer informs her that her duties include playing babysitter for the two cowboys they hired for the job, she doesn’t complain. She needs the money too much to be fussy.

Texan rodeo stars Wade Randall and Maverick Green agree to play fashion model for a couple of months because Wade needs the money to buy his own ranch in Texas and Maverick must rest his injured shoulder. However, nothing prepared them for the sight of Adrian when she collects them at the OR Tambo International Airport in South Africa.

The attraction between the three is instantaneous and the sexual tension so thick it clogs up the interior of Adrian’s four-wheel-drive Toyota Land Cruiser, but none of them are in the market for a serious relationship. Adrian’s past sexual mistakes caused her financial misery and she has no desire for a repeat performance while the men’s plans for life exclude permanent partners for a long time to come.

Isolated on a working farm in the Highveld of the Mpumalanga Province, Adrian is unable to resist the sexual pleasures the two cowboys promise. With the firm understanding that none of them wants a serious relationship, they embark on a journey of sexual discovery that melts the cold winter days.

However, when old acquaintances from Adrian’s past arrive, she learns that over-indulgence always comes at a price…




Wade Randall gripped the armrest while the plane hurtled towards the OR Tambo airport. The fuselage screeched as turbulence shook the metal frame. Fear dried the saliva in his mouth to dust and sent his heart ramming against his ribcage. Around him, passengers prepared for the imminent landing with muted but excited voices. How could they be so calm? Didn’t they know that landing was the most dangerous part of flying?

For the past half-hour, he’d watched as the buildings beneath the plane grew larger. The colourful rooftops failed to brighten the bleak South African winter landscape. What was he thinking, climbing aboard an aeroplane to fly halfway around the world to star in a commercial? He was a rodeo cowboy, not a fashion model. A stubborn bull he could handle, but prancing around in front of a camera?

He sighed and glanced at his companion fidgeting in his seat. Maverick Green had been his best friend since he could remember and the reason Wade was sitting in the plane. When Maverick’s friend who owned a saddle manufacturing company asked if he knew of two reasonably handsome cowboys he could use in his advertisement, Maverick had immediately volunteered the two of them, knowing Wade could use the money.

“Remember, this was your idea,” he said as Maverick moved his long legs to find a more comfortable spot.

Maverick grimaced. “Don’t remind me. My ass has to have changed into a square box after sitting this long.”

“How’s your shoulder holding up?”

Maverick touched his left shoulder. “Okay, I guess. I wouldn’t mind getting out of this seat, though.“”

Wade was short on sympathy. It served him right that he had to cramp his big frame into the narrow seat and ended up resembling the Hunchback from Notre Dame for most of the flight. After all, this whole thing was Maverick’s idea.

Although his own bum felt like a thousand horses had trampled over it, Wade was used to roughing it. Maverick, on the other hand, never had to withstand the rougher side of life unless he thought it might be an adventure—which almost never happened. After nearly a day and a half of waiting at airports and squeezing into airplane seats, Wade was just about ready to return home.

If only the money the Groundhog Saddle Company had offered them to advertise the saddles wasn’t so good, he’d be on the first plane out of here. After this job, the balance in his savings account would be enough to buy his ranch. He closed his eyes as the ranch he’d set his heart on, flashed in his mind. Yep, even if he knew absolutely nothing about promoting products or acting like god’s gift to women in front of the camera, the payoff would be worth it. Besides, like Maverick had said, how difficult could it be to test a couple of saddles, smile their endorsement and collect their paycheque?


Purchase Links for Her Bareback Cowboys:


Author Bio:


Ylette Pearson flavours her writing by drawing from her own experiences as Public Prosecutor, Magistrate, Commissioner of the Children’s Court and admitted attorney in South Africa. She loves to travel to remote locations on the African continent with her husband of more than twenty-five years.

She currently resides on a small vegetable and sheep farm in the Highveld of the Mpumalanga Province. When not in the veld, she can be found reading or writing in the shade of a tree with her three Jack Russels at her feet.


Connect with Ylette on her website :, Facebook Author Page, or on Twitter @Ylettepearson
 photo fallcolors_russetblack_zps85afaeb3.jpg

Thank you, Ylette for sharing,


Saturday, October 25, 2014

King Arthur's Sister in Washington's Court by @KimHeadlee #KASIWC

TITLE – King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court (KASIWC)
AUTHOR – Kim Iverson Headlee
GENRE – Science Fiction/Fantasy Time-Travel Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – 1 November 2014 (ebook); 1 February 2015 (audiobook); 1 November 2015 (hardcover)
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 350 pages/70K words
PUBLISHER – Lucky Bat Books
COVER ARTIST – Jennifer Doneske
INTERIOR ARTISTS – Jennifer Doneske and Tom Doneske
FEATURE-LENGTH SCRIPTS – Registered trilogy: adaptation of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court by Mark Twain, adaptation of KASIWC, and original script The Once and Future Queen; all available upon request.
PR OPPORTUNITY: Blog tour hosted by My Family's Heart Blog Tours November 1-30 2014. Bloggers, please sign up here, thanks!


Morgan le Fay, 6th-century Queen of Gore and the only major character not killed off by Mark Twain in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, vows revenge upon the Yankee Hank Morgan. She casts a spell to take her to 1879 Connecticut so she may waylay Sir Boss before he can travel back in time to destroy her world. But the spell misses by 300 miles and 200 years, landing her in the Washington, D.C., of 2079, replete with flying limousines, hovering office buildings, virtual-reality television, and sundry other technological marvels.

Whatever is a time-displaced queen of magic and minions to do? Why, rebuild her kingdom, of course—two kingdoms, in fact: as Campaign Boss for the reelection of American President Malory Beckham Hinton, and as owner of the London Knights world-champion baseball franchise.

Written as though by the old master himself, King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court by Mark Twain as channeled by Kim Iverson Headlee offers laughs, love, and a candid look at American society, popular culture, politics, baseball...and the human heart.

Amazon Kindle Pre-order:
US | UK | CA | AU | BR | DE | ES | FR | IN | IT | JP | MX

King Arthurs Sister in Washingtons Court
by Mark Twain
as channeled by Kim Iverson Headlee

Chapter XI: The Queen in Search of a Baseball Club

CLARICE HELPED ME pack my clothing and accessories for the relocation to London: just what I would need for the first brace of weeks, which amounted to eight large traveling cases, one of which was devoted to my hair accoutrements and cosmetics. Not long after arriving in this century, Clarice had introduced me to these wonderful products, which allowed me to create the same visual effect as I had done for decades with the aid of magic; now you sit privy to the secret of how I could cast ever so many enchantments for President Malory and remain looking as glorious as ever.
While I was yet sorting through my garments deciding which to bring and which to leave, my thoughts turned toward a leaving of another sort. I must have appeared sorrowful, for of a sudden Clarice asked if aught ailed me.
“I shall miss you, Clarice, when I get to London.” Since that answer represented only half the truth, I hurried on with: “And yet I know that you shall perform your duties in continuing to oversee my office here in Washington to the utmost of your considerable abilities.”
That made her smile, and she thanked me for the compliment, but her look turned shrewd. “I imagine you’ll miss President Hinton, too.”
“Of course I shall. She has become as a sister to me.”
I resumed examination of the dress I had been holding, a sexy little black thing that I would have loved to have worn only for Accolon…
“Please tell me about him,” said Clarice.
“I beg your pardon?”
The shrewd look was back. Mayhap it had never left. “Sir Accolon. Queen Morgan, you have not—um, partnered with any man of this century more often than once to my certain knowledge, since I manage your schedule. I suspect that you have not yet found anyone you like, let alone love, as well as he. No one of this era could make you go all moony-eyed while looking at a dress; therefore, you must be thinking about Accolon. So, please tell me about him.”
Ha. I knew I had chosen her as my trusted adviser for good reason, and I rewarded her accordingly. As the memories swirled about in my mind, making me yearn even more acutely for Accolon’s company, I said:
“He was a knight with very few peers during his lifetime, excepting only Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine. And my brother—those three were the only knights who ever bested him in single combat. So naturally, he was big—in all parts and portions—and muscular, and very strong, yet as a lover he was no brute, but as tender as any virgin maid could ever wish for. His intellect was nearly as keen as mine, as was his eagerness to assist me in righting the wrongs inflicted upon me by my brother. He had hair as glossy black as a raven’s wing, which he kept short-cropped in the old Roman style; he once said it was more comfortable under the helmet than having masses of hair stuffed up under and making the head sweat overmuch. It had a fine curl to it that I found most endearing. His eyes were an unforgettable shade of blue, and he had a strong chin that he kept clean-shaven…Lord God in heaven! Who on earth is that?”

Thanks for sharing your book with us,


#Historical, Paranormal Romance -- The Wolf by K.R.Thompson

The Wolf - Tour Banner  


TITLE – The Wolf SERIES – The Keeper Saga AUTHOR – K.R. Thompson GENRE – Historical Paranormal Romance PUBLICATION DATE – 07-24-14 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 53 pages COVER ARTIST – Keri Knutson, Alchemy Book Covers


Their secret has been safe for hundreds of years, a legacy and legend that has been carefully kept by six guardians. They are known as the Keepers. But before the legend of the Keepers—came the Wolf.
Once upon a time, there lived a man whose fate would rest with two sisters. One will hold his heart. With her, he discovers a love that will last forever, though it will come with a price.
From the other sister, he will learn fortitude as he discovers that she holds the power to destroy all he holds dear. For as easily as one sister captures his heart, the other has found the way to trap his soul.


The Wolf - Book Cover  


One mountain stood off in the distance. Its peak was the highest. It grazed the heavens. It was the closest point that he could get to his love, now in the inky, deep black sky. It seemed it would be the perfect place to make his presence—and his demands—known. The trip up the mountain took a great deal of the night, his strength had waned, but anger and determination pushed him up to the giant boulder, far above, jutting out into the night air. The moon was beyond his reach—so close, yet, so far away. Swift Foot stood on the edge of the rock. A cool breeze greeted him, brushing softly against his cheek. He felt Shining Star had sent the breeze to touch him. “I am here,” he told her softly, looking up into the sky. Then, he took a deep breath, and announced loudly to the Great Spirit, “I have come to speak to you.” The breeze was replaced with a sudden burst of warm air, an acknowledgement of sorts. He took a step forward, feeling the balls of his feet touch the edge of the rock. He was close now. “You will put me there with her or I will die!” The raw emotion caused his voice to crack, but he knew the Great Spirit heard his demand. A lightning bolt cracked from a cloudless sky in front of him, striking the ground below. No whispering voices came to his mind or thundering ones either. It seemed the Great Spirit wasn’t in the mood for negotiations. It wasn’t the response Swift Foot had wished to hear or see. Still, he stood on the rock, while his love watched him from her place in the heavens. That was just as well, Swift Foot decided. He would be with her soon, with or without any help. He would never spend a day without her. Another lightning strike lit up the sky as he lifted his arms out, and fell…


K.R. Thompson was raised in the Appalachian Mountains. She resides in southwestern Virginia with her husband, son, three cats and an undeterminable amount of chickens.
An avid reader and firm believer in the magic of nature, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.
She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.




BOOK #1 - Hidden Moon
Hidden Moon - Book 1
BOOK #2 - Once Upon A Haunted Moon
Once Upon A Haunted Moon - Book 2


$25 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour Hosted & Organized By 1-MINIBUTTON

Thanks for sharing,


Friday, October 24, 2014

Why not and #FallingIntoLove with Ashley Ladd




Official Blurb:

Someone’s trying to kill Deanna, but is it the ghosts she doesn’t believe in, the rich socialite who might be a murderess, or someone else with a beef against The Gilroy Hotel and Resort that Deanna has just been hired to manage?  The Gilroy’s owners want the ghosts, or whoever is causing the trouble at the hotel eliminated, and they are pressuring Deanna to do the job as quickly as possible. Harry DeVeaux, paranormal investigator comes highly recommended to do the job and against Deanna’s better judgment, she hires him.


Although Deanna thinks Harry’s crazy for believing in ghosts and Harry thinks Deanna has a closed mind to the possibilities of ghosts and they highly annoy each other, sparks fly. Deanna can’t help but fantasize about Harry and inspired by a romance convention visiting her hotel, writes her fantasies in a private blog that Harry finds, hacks, and reads. Ooh la la!


 photo fallcolors_russetblack_zps85afaeb3.jpgExcerpt:


Deanna reread her fantasy, barely able to believe she’d penned it, wondering if she should delete it. Did she really want to make out with Harry, a perfect stranger, on a public beach? Did she really want her words on the Internet, even in a supposedly private blog under a make-believe name?

Well, it was confidential, right? As long as she didn’t give anybody the web address or password or tell them about it, it would remain secret.

Enough fantasizing! She had to get back to work. Dragging the files out, she familiarized herself with the ghost sightings as well as Lynette’s and Grant’s history. By the time she finished, she knew how they’d died and the theories about their suicides-slash-murders. She also knew that everybody was afraid to point fingers at the now very influential and powerful Roxanne Cambridge-Anderson. Could Roxanne be behind the haunting [FB1] nonsense? Did she want the hotel shut down? But that made no sense. The rumors portrayed Roxanne as a murderess. It wouldn’t be in her best interest to keep their legend alive.

Deanna’s temples began to ache the harder she thought about everything, so she decided to go to sleep. Hopefully she’d awake if any hijinks took place in the bowling alley.

About three a.m., deafening booms awoke her. Light brightened lane fourteen and all but one pin lay scattered on the wooden floor.

Groggy, Deanna tried to gather her senses. She looked around then, to her horror, she saw an iridescent figure of a man on lane fourteen picking up a glowing ball. Collecting her presence of mind, she grabbed her webcam, pointed it at the ghostly shape and turned it on. Shaking, she tried to hold her computer steady. Not believing what she was seeing, she knew there had to be a rational explanation. Perhaps some machine was projecting the image onto the lanes. Perhaps a real person stood in front of her in glowing phosphorescent powder.

Whatever or whoever it was, picked up the ball, and knocked down the spare pin. Then the ‘apparition’ bowled three strikes in a row.

Unexpectedly, he turned and glared at her, fire shooting from his eyes. Pins flew from all the lanes at her. Her heart racing, she ducked under the score table.


Buy links:


Author Bio:

Ashley Ladd bio.jpg


Ashley Ladd lives in South Florida with her husband, five children, and beloved pets. She loves the water, cats, and playing on the computer.


She's often incorporates humor and adventure into her books. She also adores very spicy romance, which she weaves into her stories.


How you can contact Ashley:


Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Available for #PreOrder Deputy's Bride by @AnitaPhilmar - a #Hot #FallingIntoLove Story

A hot, historical western stand-alone story with a satisfying HEA.

Texas Deputy Bo Kildare is looking for a special kind of lady, one that is willing to meet his special requirements. No sweet little virgin will do, he wants a woman who knows how to please a man, perhaps two.

Recently widowed, Sarah Elizabeth Foster-LaFever has lived in the public eye for the last few years and wants out. Her reputation as Micah LaFever’s wife has left her penniless and without many viable options until Bo comes calling.

Now, she believes she found the perfect man until her past rears its ugly head. Can murder and corrupt dealings keep these two lovers from making it to the alter?

 photo fallcolors_russetblack_zps85afaeb3.jpg


“Why Bo Kildare? You’re just the man I’ve been looking for.”

The fridge wind and the chilling words sent a shiver down Bo’s spine. His foot faltered on the wooden planks of the sidewalk. For months now he’d dodged every married woman in the territory. All of them had joined forces and decided he needed a wife. More mothers than he could name had introduced him to their daughters. Some even offered dowries for a quick marriage proposal. He’d manage to avoid the snare of virginal bride but it had been a close call a time or two.

As the deputy of Walker County, he had to be nice to the general population, but his patience was fried. After his long trip from Austin, and with another three or four hours ride before he’d reach his ranch, he didn’t need this hassle right now.

Forcing a smile on his face, he turned.

Madeline Cowden, his only friend in this war against the plot to get him devoted wife, stepped forward and wrapped her arm through his. “I believe I have the answer to that little problem you’re having.”

He grinned, delighted with the news that she might have found him a suitable lady to meet his unique situation. “Good. Why don’t we get in out of this bitter breeze and discuss the matter?”

Find now on preorder at Amazon - 

Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way.
Influenced by sci-fi programs, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where erotic moments come to life in a great read.
Naughty or Nice?
Read her books and decide.

Thanks for sharing with us,


Monday, October 20, 2014

The Scent of Humanity by Margay Leah Justice #FallingIntoLove Read


 photo fallcolors_russetblack_zps85afaeb3.jpg
Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice. In theory. But in one small town, in one family, that theory is put to the test.


Growing up in a rural town in Massachusetts was supposed to be safe, but for SILVIE CHILDS, that safety was shattered by a kidnapping attempt that forever changed her life. Now, nearly twenty years later, that sense of safety is challenged again by the kidnapping attempt on her young niece, and Silvie is left struggling with one question: How can something like this happen twice in one family?


It is a dilemma shared by NICK FAHEY, the detective assigned to the case. Arriving on the scene of the abduction attempt, Nick expects to run a routine investigation. Until he meets the victim, the niece of a woman he once considered a dear friend. Unfortunately, these days Silvie Childs can barely stand the sight of him.


Once there was a time when Silvie Childs worshipped Nick Fahey, believing he could do no wrong. Until the accident that nearly killed her brother; the accident that Nick reportedly caused. Coming on the heels of her own near abduction, the accident skewed Silvie’s ability to trust men – especially Nick. But now, with the attempt on her niece’s safety, Silvie finds herself in the untenable position of having to trust Nick to bring the kidnapper to justice.


That trust is severely tested when, after only two months, the case is closed for lack of new evidence. Feeling betrayed by the system in which she works as a paralegal and by Nick, Silvie takes matters into her own hands. Contacting local news stations to generate interest in the case, allowing herself to be filmed hanging sketches of the suspect on telephone poles, she will risk her own safety to protect that of her niece. When her efforts re-open the wounds of her past, she is once again forced to put her trust in the one man who still has the power to hurt her – Nick.

“What’s this?” he asked, cupping her face in his hand and running the thumb along the lower edge of her too-full lips. “A little hint of maturity? Silvie Childs apologizing?”
            She nipped his thumb at the jibe, not hard, just enough that he hissed out a breath in reaction. All hint of humor fled from him. He was intent, serious now, every nerve in his body on high alert. “Is that how you want to play it?” he whispered, his voice guttural. “Huh?” He moved a little closer to her, maneuvering her up against the open door. Slipped his thumb between her lips, parting them. “You think we’ve danced around this enough for one day, hmm?”
            “I don’t know what you mean.” Her lips brushed against his thumb as she spoke, igniting a spark within him. Interesting.
            “Liar,” he said as he dipped his head close enough to replace his thumb with his lips. But he didn’t. Instead, he skimmed his lips along her cheekbone to her right ear, flicked his tongue along the rim of the opening. Into her ear, he whispered, “When you stop lying to yourself, I’ll give you what you want.”
            She grabbed the hand he still cupped her face with, the gesture almost – convulsive. Hmm, what was that about? Her breath in his ear sent a shiver throughout his body. “And what,” she whispered against his cheek, “do you think I want?”
            He nipped her earlobe, smiled at her shocked gasp. Soothing the nip with a flick of his tongue, he murmured, “Oh, I don’t know.” Into her ear, “Think about it.” Sliding his lips along her cheek as he withdrew, he couldn’t resist allowing the tip of his tongue to flit across her lips in parting. When she opened her mouth as if in protest, he warned, “Uh-ah, you’ve got to stop lying to yourself first.”
            She slipped her fingers into his hair, grabbing hanks of it to anchor his head and prevent his retreat. He resisted the urge to smile – and to kiss her when she made the overture to him. He merely slipped his thumb back over her lips, using it as a barrier between them. When she cast him a pleading look, he asked, “Do you still hate me?”
            “Yes,” she admitted when he slid his thumb away, releasing her lips from captivity. “More than ever.”
            He smiled and angled his head, as if preparing to kiss her. “Why?” he asked instead.
            “You know why!”
            “Mm,” he murmured, accepting that as her answer. “And who do you hate more right now?” He dipped his head a little closer. “Me, because I won’t do what you want – or you, because you want it?”
            “Me, all me,” she whispered as she swooped in close and took what she wanted from him. What he allowed her to take from him. Voraciously.
            Good Lord, he thought moments before she pulled away, shock at her own actions clearly written on her face. Where had she learned to kiss like that?
            “Ah, Silvie,” he said, dragging his thumb over her full lower lip before he favored her with a lingering, open-mouthed kiss, “I don’t think you hate me as much as you think you do.” He pulled back before she could respond – to his words or his kiss – and jogged down the three short steps from her front porch to the walkway. “Goodnight, Silvie,” he called over a shoulder. “Lock the door behind me.”

 Available at:


A versatile author who likes to write in multiple genres, Margay Leah Justice is the published author of three books: Nora's Soul, Sloane Wolf and The Scent of Humanity. In her free time, she can be found penning her new story, reading (of course!) or knitting up something warm and toasty for her family.