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Elle, a fae female, has refused to return to the Faerie Court because of the treatment she endured under the former queen, Fionna. She's been a guest in Sasha's home for the last few months, and is finally beginning to feel comfortable in this new world—finding herself drawn to the gentle warrior, but not worthy to stand at his side.
Sasha, a vampire with a violent past, is smitten by this sweetly elegant female, but has demons of his own to dispel. When Elle invites him to a magical celebration, he jumps at the chance to spend time with her. But can they heal each other on the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year?
Also in the Series
About Gayle Parness
Growing up in Los Angeles contributed to Gayle's love of all things fantasy and science fiction, particularly movies, books, and live theatre. She's worked for many NYC community theatre companies over the years and has been writing Young Adult Fantasy and Paranormal Romance novels non-stop for the last six years. A hybrid author, Gayle has self-published three ongoing series: Rogues Shifter, Triad & Theta, and her one published novel, Dying for a Bite, a paranormal menage, is available under her pen name, Marie Booth. When she's not writing she's running spotlight for a local opera company, singing in choruses and dancing in Zumba class.
Next up: Falling Out - Triad Series Book 2 - Releases 11/18/2015
Rebirth: Rogues Shifter Series Book 1 on audiobook! Narrated by Reba Buhr Nov., 2015
Blood Spelled: Rogues Shifter Series Book 8 - March, 2016
Theta Series Book 3 - Summer, 2016
Spinning Out: Triad Series Book 3 - Fall/Winter 2016
O-negative is Marie Aberdein’s favorite treat and she hates herself for it.
But she hates the MacLeod Vampire Hunters even more. They stole everything from her.
Twice. The first time, on the night of the Battle of Culloden, the Hunter killed her husband and their child. Marie has survived the last two centuries hidden away with the man she calls Father, keeping their vow never to feed from humans. But the latest Hunter—the direct descendant of her husband’s murderer—doesn’t care about their good intentions. All he wants is for their ashes to blow away in the wind, so he tracks them down and burns the only family she has left.
Payback is long overdue. Marie has escaped the MacLeods’ clutches and she intends to make this lease of life count. Merely digging her fangs into the Hunter won’t do. She’ll take everything he holds dear, starting with his heir, History undergrad and rugby-playing Gabriel.
Once she has Gabriel in the palm of her hand, she’ll rip out the boy’s heart. And make his father watch.
Only Gabe is more angel than demon. His heart is warm, his soul loyal. He makes Marie feel like the girl she has never had the chance to be. A girl who wants to laugh, flirt, and be kissed. But allowing their love to kindle will clash against the beliefs that make them who they are. When Gabriel becomes the next Hunter at twenty-one, Marie will be one of the creatures he is destined to slaughter. And loving him means giving up her vendetta against his father—something she won’t do.
Sin and Sorrow is a New Adult paranormal romance set at St.Andrews University in modern-day Scotland.
About Marion Croslydon
Marion loves to share happy vibes, talk book crush, fictional boyfriends and sexual chemistry with like-minded people. And because she spends most of her days on her own deep inside her London writing cave, you are welcome to come and say “hello” from time to time. Just to make sure she doesn’t sink into insanity. Her friends, family and arch-enemies (there are quite a few) will be forever grateful for your help.
Her debut novel, Oxford Whispers, a New Adult paranormal romance, won the IndieReader Discovery Award, 2013. Her contemporary romances, No Reverse and Fast Forward, were Amazon bestsellers, both in the New Adult and Kindle Top 50 charts. Please get in touch with HER: marion AT marioncroslydon DOT com
By the way Marion wrote that bio, but she likes using the third-person. It makes her feel as cool as shit ;-)
Eleven-year-old Casey struggles to survive the only existence she’s ever known — the life of a discarded member of the Satan’s Creed Motorcycle Club. Casey's aunt, Emilyn, will stop at nothing to save her. Old flames reignite when Emilyn enlists the help of bad boy Max in this searing romance.
Everyone believes Alexandra Kane is a good girl. She follows the rules, stays the course, but there’s only so far she can bend before she breaks. Her reputation is everything, but she can’t resist temptation when given an opportunity to join Club Valentine, the exclusive sex club that caters to the wealthy.
Roman Valentine makes a living providing people a place to exercise their sexual preferences with discretion. He knows how to keep secrets, especially since he has some of his own he doesn’t want discovered. Alexandra provides a distraction he doesn’t need, but Roman how can he say no when she makes him an offer he can’t refuse.
Their agreement is simple. Discretion, orgasms, and never mix business with pleasure. But what happens when business becomes personal? How will they react when the secrets they keep buried threaten to overtake them? And what’s Alexandra supposed to do when Roman’s secret directly impacts her life?
“I’m thrilled for my sister. She deserves all the happiness life has to offer, and Anthony’s perfect for her.” Alexandra smiled, leaning against Blair’s shoulder because it was too much work to hold her head up in her drunken state.
“She looks happy. Unlike some people.” Blair drilled her finger in Alexandra’s stomach.
Alexandra swatted it away before Blair bruised something. “I’m happy. How many people do you know make junior partner when they’re thirty?” She held her arms out like an actor gesturing toward their waiting crowd.
Blair rolled her eyes, pushing Alexandra’s arms down. “There’s more to life than work. When was the last time you went on vacation? Had a date? Got laid?” Alexandra’s eyes darted toward the rearview mirror, where the cab driver was paying close attention to Blair’s latest “you need a life” round of questions.
Alexandra turned so she could maintain some semblance of privacy from the nosy cab driver. “I’m going on vacation as soon as I’m done with my upcoming trials. You know how important it is for me to make partner. And as far as dating, I don’t have time for anyone right now. Getting laid? That’s been a while.” Six months, to be exact, but Blair didn’t need to know that piece of information. And wasn’t she just a chatty Cathy after all those drinks? Those close to her knew Alexandra didn’t date but had no idea she went to the bar for a random one-night stand when she had an itch to scratch. Easier all around, but she’d been too busy for even that recently.
Blair tsked at her. “You don’t even remember, do you? The day I forget the last time I had sex is the day I hire a male escort.” Alexandra remembered, but refused to elaborate on the drunken hookup on for her twenty-ninth birthday resulting in missing panties and a walk of shame to rival her college days.
Alexandra slapped her arm. “I am not hiring a prostitute. Could you see the headlines? ‘Popular lawyer indicted for soliciting sex.’ Plus, I can get my own man; I just don’t have time.” And she refused to deal with the next guy looking at her like she was a freak—as though she were damaged somehow—because she loved having sex a lot. She just chose not to have indiscriminant sex with multiple men, she preferred one partner. And there was no partner, just her vibrator, which she’d almost worn out with overuse.
Blair didn’t answer, just stared out the window, deep in thought before addressing her. “Hey, I have an idea…”
Author Bio
Charlotte is a southern girl who has loved a good story for as long as she can remember. A long way from sneaking around past her bedtime with a flashlight, she's currently plugging away writing her own stories. She loves writing about strong characters and how their personalities influence those around them. Her first book, Mutually Exclusive, will be available in November 2015.
THE BAD BOY: I’m Johnny. An ex-con with a bad attitude and a controlling demeanor that somehow made the women flock to my bed but never my heart. It was unavailable for possession.
THE TEMPTATION: She was just supposed to be a two day hookup. But one taste of her and I knew I was in danger of never getting enough. She has her own demons to contend with, and dealing with my own was hard enough. I won’t allow temptation to take control of me.
THE SENTENCE: I'd given myself a life sentence a long time ago, and she made me want things I wouldn't allow myself to have. Giving into it just might destroy us both.
“I’m going to have her before they leave,” I said presumptuously. I felt Cal looking at me. “Oh, boy.” “What?” “You haven’t read much about her, have you?” That caught my attention. “What does that mean? Is she a lesbian or something?” That would abso-fucking-lutely kill me. He cackled. “No, bro. She’s a ball buster, man. No one gives that woman shit. She has quite a reputation. She’s respected as hell, but no one crosses her.” I scoffed. “We’ll see about that.” After all, she was a hot woman. She had to be used to being hit on. And she’d want to be hit on by me. Plus, I didn’t want anything from her other than her body. The nice part was, she was traveling after this. Maybe she’d end up in the Denver area or back here in Florida, and we could hook up again. Cal whistled. “I want to be around when she cuts off your balls and shoves them in your mouth.” I rolled my eyes. “She can’t be that bad. Look at her. She’s probably a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Cal said. “I’m going to grab some more beer from the back.” “Need help?” I didn’t say it convincingly, and he knew it. “Nope. You stay here and daydream. That’s about all you’re going to get.” “You watch and see,” I said. “She’ll come to me.”
Author Bio
L.L. Collins loves spending her days in the Florida sun with her husband and two boys, reading, and writing. LL has been writing since she was old enough to write. Always a story in her head, she finally decided to let the characters out made her lifelong dream of becoming an author come true in the self-publishing world. She's the author of the Living Again Series and the Twisted Series, plus a new standalone, Back to the Drawing Board. Visit LL on her website, www.llcollinsauthor.com and on all social media. Look for more of her emotionally charged novels soon!
NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Clarissa Wild brings you STALKER DUOLOGY, the complete boxed set containing both Killer & Stalker.
~ Killer
Some secrets are meant to stay hidden …
Secrets could kill you. My husband is the prime example.
I’m a trophy wife. Someone’s prized possession, just there to be pretty. My dreams were pushed aside for his. Until one fateful night, one chance encounter, all his dirty secrets were exposed.
And then my supposed husband is killed.
I should be sad, but all I feel is anger. My husband is a lying, cheating bastard. And if that isn’t bad enough, I’m now the prime suspect for his murder.
Only his brother believes I'm innocent, and in his support, I find relief. However, I will find the real killer and bring him to justice ... before he tries to end my life too.
~ Stalker
Fuck me once, I'll fuck you twice … then I'll bury you.
No prison can keep me from seeking revenge. Especially when it comes to her.
She, the woman who put me in jail.
I swore that I’d come for her, to claim what belongs to me: Her life.
I’m not a good man. On the contrary, I love to be bad. It’s in my veins. Just like it’s in my veins to ruin her.
She’s an actress, pretending to be a saint, but we both know that isn’t true. One way or another, she’ll pay for what she did.
I will hunt for her. Make her fear me. Make her body mine.
Bad deeds never go unpunished … And I always go out with a bang.
WARNING: Contains graphic violence, alcohol, drugs & other disturbing content some readers may find offensive.
She swallows and thinks about her answer for a second. “Only when you want to be.”
“Exactly. And you don’t get to decide anything. You don’t get to manipulate me. I won’t allow it, so don’t try it ever again.” I grip her ass so tight that she squirms and my fingers mark her skin red.
Her face glows as I lean in to take a whiff of her scent. Her face is much cleaner than before, and all the make-up has rinsed off. She looks pure … less tainted than hours before. Every passing second her shifting behavior affects me. Changes me. It forces me to look at her in more ways than just the one consumed by hatred.
With the water cascading down her beautiful body, puckered nipples, and pink lips, I get the sudden urge to take what belongs to me.
So, I do. I kiss her, pressing my lips softly onto hers, marking her as mine. She doesn’t fight, doesn’t even flinch as I kiss her gently, my tongue dipping out to lick her sweet, icy-cold lips. I let my tongue roam free across her mouth and push inside, forcing her to open up and let me in. She doesn’t resist; instead, her tongue finds mine, and her lips cling to me. The cold doesn’t suppress the warmth flowing to my cock, which grows thicker every second. All I can think of is kissing her, fucking her every fucking second of the day …, and then ruining her for life.
I step into the shower with her, increasing the temperature further until it’s warm enough to heat up her body. She’s still shivering, as I press her firmly into my warm body. She makes herself small to fit between my arms, as if I’m a radiator she’s cuddling up to. How cute. I just want to fuck her with my tongue.
Her taste is exhilarating, and I can’t fucking get enough of tasting her, her mouth latching onto mine with equal wantonness. Her body is quickly regaining its normal temperature, and her natural flush reappears on her face, although I’m not exactly sure if that’s because of the shower or because I’m grabbing her ass and pushing her body against mine.
The urge to turn her around and bend her over gets bigger and bigger as she pants into my mouth, desperate for air … desperate for more kisses. I let my hands roam free over her body, cupping her tit and giving it a nice squeeze. My mouth silences her first moan, as I taste her willingness to finally submit. And, oh … how I will make her submit.
Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author, best known for the dark Romance novel Mr. X. Her novels include the Fierce Series, the Delirious Series, and Stalker. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.
I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly girls do.
Author Bio
There's something about the written word that is pure magic.
Possibly it's the fact there are 26 letters in the English alphabet, and they can create something so beautiful or so empowering they're capable to change our lives.
How important is it that we break suit and stretch our minds?
I like to think of myself as 'unique'. My stories aren't for everyone, and sometimes I may push what you believe to be 'normal'.
Normal is subjective.
I prefer to be known as a person who's never been 'bound by custom' but is 'unique by choice'.
