, by Miriam Meza

In #NewRelease, Contemporary Romance

#NewRelease THE DARKEST WARRIOR by Gena Showalter

The Queen of Paranormal Romance, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Gena Showalter, returns with THE DARKEST WARRIOR, a searing Lords of the Underworld tale featuring a beastly prince and the wife he will wage war to keep. Buy your copy of THE DARKEST WARRIOR today!

THE DARKEST WARRIOR

Synopsis:

He is ice…Puck the Undefeated, host of the demon of Indifference, cannot experience emotion without punishment, so he allows himself to feel nothing. Until her. According to ancient prophecy, she is the key to avenging his past, saving his realm and ruling as king. All he must do? Steal her from the man she loves—and marry her.
She is fire…Gillian Shaw has suffered many tragedies in her too-short life, but nothing could have prepared the fragile human for her transition into immortality. To survive, she must wed a horned monster who both intrigues and frightens her…and become the warrior queen she was born to be.
Together they burn.As a rising sense of possession and obsession overtake Puck, so does insatiable lust. The more he learns about his clever, resourceful wife, the more he craves her. And the more time Gillian spends with her protective husband, the more she aches for him. But the prophecy also predicts an unhappily-ever-after. Can Puck defeat fate itself to keep the woman who brought his deadened heart back to life? Or will they succumb to destiny, losing each other…and everything they’ve been fighting for?

Preorder THE DARKEST WARRIOR here!

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EXCERPT:

So. This is the girl William will live or die for.

Puck crouched on the railing of an eighteenth-story balcony, gargoyle-style, and peered into a spacious apartment with only two occupants. William of the Dark and Gillian Shaw.

Soon she would be Gillian Connacht.

Find William. Wed his girl. War with brother.

Now that Puck had found the warrior, his tasks shifted: wed the girl, cart her to Amaranthia, return for the male. Wed. Cart. Return.

Perhaps he should stop staring at the female first? Impossible.

While the demon of Indifference growled with displeasure, Puck drank in Gillian’s dark fall of silken waves and eyes the color of whiskey. Seductive eyes filled with kindling. One day, a male would light her match, and she would burn for him, and him alone.

Flawless golden skin and blood-red lips only added to her appeal, making her the embodiment of a fairy-tale princess.

My princess.

Puck bit his tongue—he should have tasted blood, but because of Indifference, he tasted nothing. There was no denying the truth. Being near the female he planned to wed came with an unexpected complication. Indifferent? Hardly. She roused his most possessive instincts.

Soon she would belong to him. She would be his first and only “mine,” without actually being his.

Must police my thoughts about her, or I’ll ruin everything.

He felt as if he’d been watching Gillian for days, even weeks, as if he knew her, and yet he marveled over every new detail he learned. She was shockingly human, with a gentle spirit and an aura of kindness. Her beguiling smile was infectious, the rare times she revealed it.

Mostly she studied the people and world around her, somehow both present and detached, all while radiating bone-deep sadness.

Too many centuries had passed since Puck had experienced such heartfelt emotion. Before his possession, he might have sympathized with her—whatever her troubles happened to be—and sought to make things better. Now? He would use her without hesitation. He must.

War before a woman.

“I’m needed elsewhere,” William said, and kissed her cheek.

Puck scrutinized his competition for the female’s affections: six-five, solidly built, black hair, blue eyes, handsome if you liked perfection, and soon to be sporting a broken nose if he kissed Puck’s future bride again.

Inner slap. To achieve his goals, Puck needed both Gillian and William to cooperate.

“Hades requires my expertise to obliterate Lucifer’s newest palace,” William continued.

Lucifer. The male’s older brother.

Gillian scowled. Soon she would smile. Around William, her moods tended to change lightning fast, as if she wanted to feel one way, but he made her feel another.

“No, you’re staying here.” Her voice, even laced with a thread of anger, had the power to seduce.

No wonder William had fallen hard for her, and no other.

Puck had actually found the male hundreds of years ago, not long after the Oracles spoke their prophecy. Back then, William had loved no one but himself, forcing Puck to turn his efforts to obtaining the shears of Ananke.

She was the goddess of Bonds, and rumors claimed her shears could sever any spiritual, emotional or physical tie without con- sequence. Of course, rumors also claimed the artifact severed more than the user bargained for.

What was truth? What was lie?

At first, Puck had contemplated using the shears to sever his bond with the demon. The creature had become a part of him, another heartbeat he needed to survive. Ditching him without penalty...could anything be better?

Why else would the Oracles instruct him to find the shears?

But, if using the shears on Indifference had been the answer to Puck’s dilemma, why instruct him to marry Gillian, and recruit William?

What if the shears severed Puck’s connection to Indifference, but also his emotions? He would be in worse shape than before. What if he used the shears and died? The artifact might consider death a blessing rather than a consequence.

Too many risks.

In the end, Puck had opted to stick with his original plan, and work with William.

Help me defeat my brother. In return, I’ll divorce your female and give her back to you.

Puck returned his gaze to the dark-haired Gillian. She had such lush breasts. A flat stomach, and rounded hips. Long legs meant to wrap around a man’s waist—my waist.

His heart beat with renewed determination, as if the organ had come back to life, even though it had never died. As if it said, I’ve been waiting for her.

About the author:

Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of the spellbinding Lords of the Underworld and Angels of the Dark series, two young adult series--Everlife and the White Rabbit Chronicles--and the highly addictive Original Heartbreakers series. In addition to being a National Reader's Choice and two time RITA nominee, her romance novels have appeared in Cosmopolitan (Red Hot Read) and Seventeen magazine, she's appeared on Nightline and been mentioned in Orange is the New Black--if you ask her about it, she'll talk for hours…hours! Her books have been translated in multiple languages. She’s hard at work on her next novel, a tale featuring an alpha male with a dark side and the strong woman who brings him to his knees. You can learn more about Gena, her menagerie of rescue dogs, and all her upcoming books at genashowalter.com or Facebook.com/genashowalterfans

Visit her Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

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, by Miriam Meza

In #NewRelease, Broken Prince

#NewRelease CRACKED KINGDOM by Erin Watt

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, by Miriam Meza

In #NewRelease, Amazon

#NewRelease STUBBORN AS A MULE by Juliette Poe

STUBBORN AS A MULE

The Sex and Sweet Tea Series

by Juliette Poe

Release Day – July 20

Down in Whynot, NC, there are three things that hold true: 1) life moves just a little bit slower, 2) family means everything, and 3) you don’t mess with history.

When his family decides to sell a home that’s been part of their history for over a century, Lowe Mancinkus is madder than a hornet. To add insult to injury, the woman who purchased it is some fancy pants, city girl looking to fix it up and sell it off. Doesn’t matter that she’s sexy as hell or that just being near her gets his blood racing like never before. That home belongs to his family, or at least it did until she came to town.

Well that just won’t do, now will it?

From the moment that she laid eyes on the historical home in rural North Carolina, Melinda Rothschild knew Mainer House was something special. The perfect escape from life in New York City, Melinda signed the papers and set to work restoring the house to its natural beauty. That is until an angry Lowe showed up on her doorstep one day. With a scowl on his handsome, chiseled face. And a shotgun in his strong, muscular arms.

Is it getting hot in here?

Melinda’s about to get a lesson on life in the south, but Lowe is about to learn a lesson of his own – this city girl doesn’t back down from a fight.

BUY YOUR COPY NOW!!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2prtkVl | B&N: http://bit.ly/2o12w9r | iBooks: http://apple.co/2p0TLQM

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2omW8uG | Kobo: http://bit.ly/2op1iYY

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34829361-stubborn-as-a-mule

EXCERPT

The booming sound coming from downstairs causes me to sit straight up on the mattress that is placed in the middle of the master bedroom floor. I’ve yet to get a good night’s sleep because there’s a damn train that runs parallel to the town. It’s just two blocks over from the Mainer House, and it feels the need to blow its whistle around two AM each morning. This isn’t that big of a deal to most of the residents of the small town of Whynot, but to me… it chafes just a little because, well… I love my sleep.

I’ve been assured by the nice lady who runs Sweet Cakes, the bakery right across the street from Mainer House, that I’ll get used to it, but I seriously doubt it. Even the noise of New York City never penetrated my sleep the way a train whistle does, and I get a totally empathetic look from her when I stagger in for some coffee and a cheese Danish each morning.

I think I’ve slipped into a pattern at night where I now anticipate being woken up by that stupid train, so I’m not even able to get into good REM sleep. It’s probably why I shot straight up in bed at the banging that’s going on downstairs, although I can’t quite pinpoint from where it’s coming. A glance at the alarm clock sitting on the floor shows it’s 5:30 AM. It’s still dark outside, and I’m slightly—okay, greatly—confused. I struggle to process since it’s been almost two weeks since I came to Whynot and I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep since then.

Then it penetrates… someone’s at my front door.

Banging.

At 5:30 AM.

Immediate anger flows through my veins, heating me up from within. Without any further consternation, I know it’s Lowe Mancinkus causing all that noise. It must be him because there’s no one else in the entire world who has ever been such a thorn in my side.

Flipping the blanket back, I roll off the mattress and wince as my knees hit the floor. Almost three decades of sleeping on a mattress, box spring, and a frame, and I can’t get used to being only a few inches off the floor. I’ve held off on buying any furniture for the house until the remodeling is complete.

Pushing first to my hands and knees, I manage to lurch upright and stagger out of the bedroom. Down the rotund, sweeping staircase to the main floor. I don’t even bother to look out the leaded glass panels on either side of the heavy wooden door—so convinced I am that it’s Lowe on the other side—that I fling it open without an ounce of worry.

“What in the holy hell are you doing?” I snarl as the breeze generated from the doorway swinging open so fast actually blows my hair back.

Lowe stands there in mid-bang, fist raised high and a diabolical glitter to his eyes. His eyes lock onto mine for just a moment before they drop and casually run down the length of my frame. I look down at myself and cringe as I realize I’m still in my pajamas, which in the sweltering South consists of a cotton tank top and sleep shorts that are really short. My hand falls from the doorknob, and I cross my arms over my chest as Lowe looks back up at me.

And why does he have to be so damned gorgeous? In ordinary circumstances, this man pushes all my girlie buttons. Tall, just enough muscle to be strong but not freakish, and that dark chocolate hair with bright hazel eyes that are every woman’s fantasy. I always have to remind myself he’s a nasty SOB who I wouldn’t give the time of day to… in ordinary circumstances, that is.

“I’m here to start work,” he says casually as he pushes past me into the main foyer.

“It’s five-freaking-thirty in the morning,” I grit out, not moving from the open doorway. I expect him to be walking right back out again.

Instead, he ignores me and moves down a wide hall beside the staircase that goes to the kitchen. With a growl of frustration, I slam the door shut and then stomp off after him. “It’s completely rude to show up here at this hour.”

He doesn’t respond and as I turn the corner into the kitchen, I find him rummaging through the cupboards. “Where’s the coffee?”

“I don’t have any,” I snap at his backside since he hasn’t bothered to give me a second glance since he barged in. “And I don’t like you ignoring me any more than I like you barging into my house.”

“Get some decent clothes on, and I wouldn’t be forced to look through your cupboards for nonexistent coffee,” he replies calmly, moving onto the next cabinet even though I’ve told him I have no coffee.

In fact, I have hardly anything at all here. A mattress, pillow, sheets, and blanket in the bedroom, some orange juice in the fridge, and towels in the master bathroom. Those are the only creature comforts at this point, and they’re enough to get me through the remodeling. I’ve been eating out almost every meal and this is not a hardship as that’s pretty much what I do when I’m back home in New York. One, however, can only eat so many grits and collards, although I’ll take them over fatback and pickled pigs feet any day.

“I would like to remind you…” I say in a voice that comes off far too rancid and nowhere in control. “That this is my house. I can wear whatever I like to bed, with the assumption I won’t have visitors until a decent hour.”

“I’m not a visitor,” he points out, back still to me. “But because you couldn’t take a little joke and had to run crying to Judge Bowe, I now have to work for you. I also have to keep my own business running, which means I have to work early and late. You need to suck it up, buttercup. This is your life for the next few months.”

ABOUT JULIETTE POE

Juliette Poe is the sweet and swoony alter ego of New York Times Best Selling author, Sawyer Bennett.

A fun-loving southern girl, Juliette knows the allure of sweet tea, small towns, and long summer nights, that some of the best dates end sitting on the front porch swing, and that family is top priority. She brings love in the south to life in her debut series, Sex & Sweet Tea.

When Juliette isn’t delivering the sweetest kind of romance, she’s teaching her southern belle daughter the fine art of fishing, the importance of wearing Chucks, and the endless possibilities of a vivid imagination.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliette_poe | Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJuliettePoe/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorjuliettepoe/

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, by Miriam Meza

In #NewRelease, 99cents

#NewRelease (+Giveaway) CLIPED by Remy Blake

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, by Miriam Meza

In #NewRelease, Amazon

#NewRelease (+ EXCERPT) MIXED UP by Emma Hart

MIXED UP

By Emma Hart

Release Day: April 18

BLURB:

Hiring my brother’s best friend was not on my to-do list.

Neither was he.

Expanding my dirty cocktail bar into food was supposed to be easy, except finding a chef in my little town of Whiskey Key is anything but.

Until Parker Hamilton comes home—bringing his Michelin starred chef’s hat with him.

He has no work. I need someone like him in my new kitchen.

There’s just one problem: I hate his cocky, filthy-mouthed, sexy-as-hell guts.

Even if I might want him. Just a little…

Working for my best friend’s sister? Not on my to-do list.

She’s another story.

Whiskey Key was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, except I haven’t reached the heights I have by lying in a hammock drinking cocktails. So when Raven Archer is desperate for a chef, I offer up my skills.

I’m bored. She needs what I can give her.

Except there’s a problem: I’ve always hated her.

Her and her big, blue eyes, sassy mouth, and killer curves.

If only I didn’t want her.

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON AU

AMAZON CA | B&N | iBooks

EXCERPT

The sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand was loud, jarring, and very, very annoying.

It wasn’t the most pleasant sound in the world to wake up to.

Groaning, I rolled over and batted my hand around on the top of the nightstand. Then, I realized the bed was vibrating. It was a mammoth effort to open my eyes, but somehow I managed it so I could look down the gap between the cupboard and my bed. Just like I assumed it was, my phone was wedged between the leg of the bed and the wooden side of my nightstand.

I fished it out with my finger. The moment it was free, it stopped ringing.

Of course it did.

I picked it up and looked at the screen. Ryan. I frowned—it was early for him to be calling…wait, no it wasn’t. It was seven-thirty. I’d overslept.

No sooner had I finished the thought than my phone buzzed again. It was Ryan.

“What do you want?” I demanded, answering the phone.

“Did you oversleep?” came his response.

“Maybe. I was tired. What do you want?”

He laughed. “Have you seen Parker?”

“You just woke me up. Do you think I’ve seen Parker?”

“Shall I call back when you’ve had coffee?”

“Can you get to the point of this irritating conversation?” I shoved the covers to the side and swung my legs out of the bed. I hadn’t bothered to throw any clothes on before I’d fallen asleep last night.

Ryan sighed. “Ilsa said Parker didn’t go home last night. She came over this morning when his car wasn’t in the drive and asked me if I knew where he was. I don’t, and you’re the last person I know who would’ve seen him, so I’m calling you.”

I jerked around and looked at the other side of the bed. Messy and unkept, but no Parker.

“No idea.” I swallowed and glanced at the floor. His clothes were gone, too. Only mine remained. “Hold on.” I put my phone down and checked the notification bar. There were no messages from him, so if he wasn’t here and hadn’t gone home, maybe he was downstairs?

I threw an oversized shirt on over my head and quickly pulled some panties up my legs before grabbing my phone again.

“I don’t have any messages from him,” I said, opening my bedroom door. “I can’t hel—” I finished on a scream, because the missing man was standing shirtless in my kitchen.

“Raven?” Ryan said into my ear right as Parker glanced over his shoulder at me. “Are you all right?”

“Ssshhh—shit!” I held my finger in front of my mouth. “Spider!” I said to Ryan. “I walked into the bathroom and there’s a big spider in my tub.”

Parker rubbed his hand down his face and shook his head.

“You’re screaming at a spider?” Ryan’s amusement was evident in his restrained tone.

“It’s a big one. It scared me.” I slammed my bedroom door behind me. “I just locked it in there.”

“It’s a spider.”

“You’re not helping.” This was the worst lie ever. “I need to get rid of it, so I have to go. If I haven’t heard from you by the time Parker starts work, I’ll tell him to call his mom. Bye!” I hung up and threw my phone on the sofa like it was on fire.

“What the hell was that about?” Parker asked, spatula-flipper thingy in hand.

“You’re still here!” It came out as more of a squeak than anything.

He stared at me for a moment. “Yeah, but I’m kind of stuck on the fact I’ve been both a stubbed toe and a spider this week.”

I sunk my fingers into my hair. It was messy, and my fingers got caught on some small knots as they threaded through the locks. “Ryan called and woke me up.” I summarized the phone call. “And I panicked when I saw you, because I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I fell asleep and thought you left!”

He shook his head, turning back to my cooker. “I fell asleep, too. I didn’t wake up until your alarm went off this morning.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m late and I have to put orders through today.”

“You didn’t move,” he said. “So I shut it off, took a shower, and came to make breakfast.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, I could see his dark hair was wet. “Okay, well, you need to call your mom and tell her you aren’t dead or anything.”

“I’ll text her soon. I can’t do it right after Ryan’s called you, can I? That won’t look suspicious at all.”

“Half an hour. Say I left you a voicemail to see if you were coming into work because you were MIA and you realized you forgot to tell her you weren’t coming home.”

“The fact I have to tell her I’m not coming home is, in itself, ridiculous.”

“And that’s why I live alone.” I smiled and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. “What are you making?”

“Omelets. Yia-Yia left me omelet seasoning so I thought I’d try it.”

I peered over his arm at the pan. “Where did you get the the ingredients?” I knew for a fact I didn’t have eggs in my fridge.

“Downstairs.” He glanced at me as if the answer was obvious. Which it was, honestly. “Your fridge is both impressively empty and sadly understocked.”

I shrugged and leaned against the counter. “I don’t eat breakfast unless I’m forced to.”

Parker slid the omelet out of the pan and onto a plate in one smooth movement. Then, he picked up the plate, and held it out to me. “Well, I’m forcing you to eat.”

I might not have been a big breakfast eater, but I wasn’t going to turn down food.

“I can deal with that.” I smiled and reached for the plate, but before I could take it, he swung his arm out wide where I couldn’t reach it. “Hey!”

He grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me toward him. I’d barely righted my footing when he dropped his mouth to mine and planted a slow, easy kiss on my lips. Releasing me like he’d done nothing out of the ordinary, he put the plate back between us and also handed me a knife and fork. “Morning.”

I snatched the plate and cutlery before he could take it away again. “Thanks. I think?”

He laughed as I sat at the table. “Your good morning was screaming at me. The least you could do was kiss me.”

I rolled my eyes and stabbed my fork into the cheesy, melty, eggy goodness. “You should have announced yourself. Left your pants on the floor or something.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Next time? This is going to happen again?” I was teasing him, because let’s be honest. There were worse things in life than having sex with a hot guy, then waking up to find said hot guy making you breakfast while half-naked.

“Yep. I’ll just remember to call my mom first.”

I laughed, then moaned as I finally put the first forkful of breakfast into my mouth.

Parker side-eyed me. “If you want to finish your breakfast in peace, don’t do that again.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters.

By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books.

Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity.

Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.