Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Witch’s Bane by Ann Gimpel


Witch’s Bane
The Witch Chronicles
Book 2
Ann Gimpel

Publisher: Taliesin
ISBN: 
Release Date: 8/7/14

Genre: Dark Paranormal Romance
Word Count: 65,000

Two stubborn people—a witch and a mage—come together with a fierceness borne of desperation. Can passion trump their intense need for independence? Will they live long enough to find out?

Book Description:

Roz, Jenna, and Colleen are the last of the demon-stalking witches. So far, they’ve escaped disaster, but their luck is running low. When demons strike in the midst of Colleen’s wedding, Roz launches desperate measures because she and her sister witches are Earth’s only hedge against being overrun by Hell’s minions. As she shape-shifts to keep one step ahead of the demons, at least it takes her mind off her other problems. Personal ones. She burned through a couple of marriages with a string of loser men before, after, and in between. Though she wants to be happy for Colleen, the jealousy bug bit deep and hasn’t let go.

In Roz’s secret heart she’s attracted to Ronin, one of the Daoine Sidhe. He’s so profanely beautiful she can barely breathe around him, but he’s also headstrong and arrogant. Not good partner material, she tells herself, unless she wants to end up dusting her heart off one more time.

Ronin set his sights on Roz when she was at his home in the U.K. for a strategy meeting and he can’t get her out of his mind. Unfortunately, she’s so prickly getting close to her requires scheming. He casts an enchantment to lure her at Colleen’s wedding, but she senses the spell and rebuffs him.

Roz is used to calling the shots. So is Ronin. Sparks fly. Tempers run hot, right along with an attraction too strong to be denied. Roz and Ronin come together with a fierceness borne of desperation, but demons are determined to rid themselves of the witches for good, no matter what it takes.

Excerpt:

Ronin Redstone unwound his arm from Roz and gripped his hands together in his lap to lessen the temptation to touch her again. Where he figured most of the guests were anxious to see the bride, he’d been interested in Roz. Probably too interested since he’d bounced to his feet the moment she entered the room and had even spun the mildest of spells to coerce her to sit near him. He pressed his lips into a flat line as he wrestled with his thoughts. Ever since he’d met the tall, imposing witch at his home in northern England a couple of weeks before, he’d been able to think of little else. She even entered his dreams with her silky black hair, pronounced cheekbones, and hawk-like nose. In those dreams, she was naked, her bronze skin glimmering in moonlight.
Her heady scent, pine forests and jasmine, tickled his nostrils and made him wonder what she’d feel like in his arms. Once he kicked the door open to that slippery slope, his cock sprang to life, clearly eager to find out. He tried to clip his libido before things whirled out of control and she noticed his arousal, but his cock wasn’t in the mood for negotiation—or retreat. He wove the tiniest don’t look here spell and draped his lower body with it.
In years past, he’d simply have created a love charm, imbued it with compulsion, and bedded the woman. That probably wasn’t a good idea, though. Roz would sense his magic, be outraged he tried to coerce her, and that would be the last he ever saw of the striking witch. Never mind she had good reason to not want much to do with him since he’d been one of the key players two hundred years ago who’d suggested foisting demon stalking onto the witches. He tightened his jaw muscles. Who could have guessed his little machination to get his kin out from under a highly unpleasant task would nearly be the death of the few witches who’d inherited the power through a magical version of gene splicing? Of course, he’d also been the one to send Duncan to fetch one of the witches to quell a demon uprising in the U.K. last month. That was how they’d discovered only three of the special witches remained…
No wonder she’s not overly fond of me. Ronin grimaced, not liking the truth in his thoughts. An inner voice huffed, reminding him it wasn’t his fault the witches in question hadn’t produced more offspring, but he shushed it.
Surely I can at least charm Roz out of that sour expression on her face.
He forced his breathing into a regular pattern and glanced toward Duncan and Colleen at the front of the room. The resident witch had completed her part of the ceremony and Titania was speaking in Gaelic so old he had trouble following it. The Sidhe binding ceremony lasted at least half an hour, so he let his thoughts drift. Anywhere but to his cock, which still throbbed uncomfortably.
As de facto leader for the Sidhe, a post he held more because no one else wanted it than because of any special skills on his part, he sensed they stood at the edge of a cataclysmic event. Abbadon and his henchmen, the Irichna demons, had grown appallingly strong. Capturing them one at a time and shepherding them to the Ninth Circle of Hell where they were trapped for all eternity wasn’t a workable solution anymore. There were too many of them, and maybe not enough space in the bottom of Hell.
Because he was afraid of a firm answer regarding Hell’s demon storage capacity, he hadn’t asked Titania, though surely she’d know. If they couldn’t dump Irichna behind the Ninth Circle’s gate, he had no idea what they’d do with them. And if Abbadon consolidated his full power, Earth would be laid waste. Ronin clamped his jaws together. Apocalypse didn’t come close to describing what would happen if Abbadon were freed from protecting his demons and could concentrate on taking over Earth.
In addition to not inquiring too closely about the Irichna, I also haven’t asked about Oberon. Ronin grimaced again. If the King of Faerie were truly so tired of immortality he’d let himself fade into the Dreaming, Ronin didn’t want to know about that, either.
When did I turn into such a craven I avoid unpleasant answers?
Even though he wasn’t expecting one, a response popped up anyway. He’d loved a human woman once, but she’d died bearing their son, who’d perished right along with her. The major vessel serving her heart had ruptured, and no amount of Sidhe magic could heal her or breathe life into their dead child. Ronin withdrew from the other Sidhe after that, mostly because he didn’t want to hear their lectures about the whole debacle being his own fault. After all, they weren’t supposed to mate outside their blood. When he finally picked up the reins of command a couple of centuries later—or maybe it had been three—he held himself aloof and avoided confrontations with anyone, about anything.
He ground his jaws harder together. His internal inventory was damned depressing; it forced him to take a harsh look at himself, and he didn’t like what he saw. He glanced at Titania. She clasped Duncan’s and Colleen’s hands between her own, and his eyes widened. Had he truly spent the entire ceremony sunk in memories and self-pity?
It would appear so, he thought dryly. In moments, Titania would utter the final words, Duncan would kiss Colleen, and the ritual would be done. He barely had time to wonder why Titania hadn’t kicked up more of a fuss about Duncan marrying a mortal, when the bridal pair kissed.
The tiniest sigh escaped Roz, and he looked sidelong at her. Her full lips were parted in half a smile, and she looked captivated by the ancient binding that had unfolded, mostly without him paying one whit of attention to it. She leaned toward him, her earlier ire apparently forgotten. “They make such a lovely couple,” she whispered.
Ronin narrowed his eyes and looked hard at Duncan and Colleen, wrapped in one another’s arms and kissing enthusiastically. He didn’t know about the lovely couple part, because he didn’t view the world that way. “They do look happy,” he whispered back because he thought he ought to say something.
Bubba, who’d been standing off to one side, made a grab for a bag Ronin hadn’t noticed before. The changeling reached inside and Ronin’s internal alarm went off. The changeling was about to throw something at the couple. Had the creature been co-opted by demons? It wasn’t unheard of since their race contained a smattering of demon blood. Afraid if he hesitated he’d be too late, Ronin pulled strong magic and rose to his feet.
Before he could loose it, Roz fastened a hand around his lower arm. “It’s just rice,” she said, her voice still low. “He’s going to throw rice at them. Stand down.”
Ronin met her dark, luminous gaze. “What sort of custom is that?” he demanded. Magic thrummed around him, making the air shimmer in iridescent hues. The changeling indeed tossed rice high in the air, showering everyone within a ten-foot radius of him, laughed uproariously, and then did it again.
“An old one.” Roz tugged on his arm and he sat reluctantly. “Bubba adores Colleen. He’s laid his life on the line for her a bazillion times. He’d never hurt her.”
“Better safe than sorry,” he muttered, feeling like an ass. “How was I to know?”
“It’s okay.” She let go of his arm and patted one of his hands.
As long as he was in an apologizing mood—they were rare for him—Ronin exhaled sharply and said, “I’m sorry I, um, suggested you sit next to me.”
She cocked her head to one side and quirked a brow. “If you’d only suggested, it would have been fine, but you did a tad more than that.”
Flutes and guitars began to play Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Colleen and Duncan turned and floated up the center aisle with Bubba right behind, still throwing rice. Even Ronin had to admit they looked radiant. He’d known Duncan his entire life, and he’d never seen his fellow Sidhe look so carefree and besotted with joy. In one wild, unrestrained moment, before he glossed his emotions over with rationality, he wanted the same for himself.
Ronin felt Roz’s gaze still on him and knew he couldn’t ignore her comment. “You’re right,” he said stiffly. “I did do more than that.”
She repositioned herself so he had to look at her. “Why?”
Because I’ve wanted to strip you naked and worship your body from the day I met you. He cloaked his mind, hoping he’d been fast enough and she hadn’t read his thoughts. “I’m not quite sure,” he stumbled over the words, because they weren’t the truth.
Her dark gaze never left him as she weighed his statement. Finally she nodded, almost to herself. “When you figure it out,” she said and winked broadly, “be sure to let me know.”
Heat rose from his neck and swooshed over the top of his head. Damn! He was a Sidhe and a warrior. It was unseemly to blush like a love-struck maid. He opened his mouth to stammer some sort of reply, but she got up, along with the rest of the guests. “Come on,” she said. “I’m starving.”
He’d been afraid the second the ceremony was over, she’d race away from him as far and as fast as she could, but she’d just invited him to eat with her, at least he thought she had. He bit back a smile until just the edges of his mouth twitched. Maybe she didn’t abhor him as much as it seemed when she’d shot him that poisonous look once she sensed his magic.
I learned something. I have to ask her, not simply push her to do what I want. He hurried after her swishing skirt, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. He could always locate her, but the less magic he used until she got to know him, the better.
*
Roz caught up to Jenna just inside the dining area and hugged her. “Wasn’t it just perfect?” she gushed, still caught up in the mystical pull of dual wedding ceremonies.
Jenna hugged her back and nodded. She disentangled herself and eyed her friend. “What the hell, Roz? It isn’t like you to fall all over yourself.”
Roz settled her face into its usual, stern planes. “There. Is that better?”
Jenna grinned. “Yup. There’s the grumpy witch I know and love. What happened to you anyway? I looked back and you were trailing after that hunky Sidhe.”
“He snared me in a spell.”
“Ooooh.” Jenna clapped her hands together. “He must be interested.” She leaned close. “What did he do during the ceremony?”
Roz felt her face redden. “Nothing. I got mad at him once I realized he’d bamboozled me. Hush. Here he comes.”
“Awesome.” Jenna practically vibrated with enthusiasm. “He can eat with us.”
“I already invited him.”
A knowing look crossed Jenna’s face and she opened her mouth, but Roz hissed, “Can it, sister,” just before turning to Ronin and asking, “Where would you like to sit?”
He half-bowed—a courtly, old world gesture that drove home just how old he was—lifted Jenna’s hand to his lips, and said, “Nice to see you again, Miss Jenna. Anywhere the two of you wish to settle is fine with me.”
“Maybe we should get our food first,” Jenna suggested brightly, “since the tables will fill fast.”
“Good idea,” Roz snapped, feeling unaccountably jealous. Ronin hadn’t kissed her hand, but he’d been quick enough to snatch Jenna’s.
“If you don’t want him…” Jenna spoke in their telepathic speech.
“I thought you were interested in Tristan.” Roz led the way to a buffet table and picked up a plate.
Jenna smirked. “I am, but he’s not here.”
Roz dished up an interesting looking salad, brimming with shrimp and crab, and followed it with a few slices of rare beef and a roll. They found a table beneath a leaded glass window and laid their plates down.
“I’ll get us something to drink.” Ronin smiled. “Preferences?”
“What are you getting?” Roz asked, avoiding Jenna’s gaze.
“Mead,” he answered. “It’s what I prefer.”
“I’ll take Irish whiskey,” Jenna trilled and settled into her seat.
“Just bring me a glass of one or the other,” Roz muttered. “I’m not picky.” As soon as Ronin was out of earshot, or close enough, she glared at Jenna. “Leave him alone.”
“But you’re not even sure you’re interested in him,” Jenna protested.
“And how would you know that?” Roz stuffed a forkful of salad into her mouth, chewed with a vengeance, and swallowed.
The other witch dropped her gaze, looking sheepish. “I, um, peeked.”
Roz slammed a fist on the table hard enough the dishes rattled. “You looked inside my head without asking?”
“’Fraid so. Sorry.” Jenna started eating with a studied nonchalance.
Roz exhaled and then did it again. Both of them were lonely; getting angry with her longtime friend wouldn’t serve any purpose other than creating bad water under the bridge they’d have to clear at some point. “Jenna. It’s the wedding ceremonies. All the old magic in them makes us want what Colleen and Duncan have.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Jenna’s hazel gaze met hers and she looked repentant, her brows drawn together. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” Roz smiled crookedly. “Let’s not fight. Not today.”


About the Author:

Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls, but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains.

It was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys, sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a lot between writing that novel and its sequel.

Around that time, a friend of hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her tales often have a green twist.

In addition to writing, Ann enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their family.





@AnnGimpel

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Wrath of the Highlander by Sky Purington

 

Dear All: I am currently having HUGE problems with my Blogger interface

hence the late tour. If there is someone proficient enough with Blogger
that would mind contacting me, I would appreciate it.



Wrath of the Highlander
The MacLomain Series
Next Generation
Book 3
Sky Purington

Genre:  Time Travel Fantasy Romance

Date of Publication:   July 9, 2014
ASIN:  B00LNU0PLK

Number of pages:  254
Word Count:  76,500

Cover Artist:  Tamra Westberry

Book Description:

Bookstore owner and ghostwriter, Cadence wants nothing more than to be part of the unending draw between her Broun heritage and the medieval MacLomain clan. When an unexpected Claddagh ring appears on her finger, the distant past soon becomes her future. Though sure she was brought back in time for another man, the laird’s cousin soon draws her eye, then her every thought.

Recently widowed by a traitorous wife, Malcolm MacLomain has no use for love. Merciless, he swears revenge on his enemies and embarks for war. When courageous and persevering, Cadence becomes part of his endeavor his broken heart starts to mend. Caught in an unexpected journey of forgiveness and discovery, two worlds collide and heal despite the, Wrath of the Highlander.

Available Now- Mark of the Highlander (Book 1), Vow of the Highlander (Book 2) and Wrath of the Highlander (Book 3). Coming Soon- Faith of the Highlander (Book 4) and the final in the series, Plight of the Highlander (Book 5).

Available at Amazon  BN  Kobo

Excerpt

“Have you found your mystery man yet, lass?” he said, so low she would feel the rumble of his inquisition through the thin material of her silky, smooth dress.

Her lips trembled, eyes wide, but she gave no answer.

Oh, but to close his lips over hers.

“No,” Cadence finally murmured, her eyes still locked on his. “But I will find him.”

When she licked her lips, his eyes drifted down. Wide and full, they were created for pure sin. He could only imagine them running down his body. Damnation, he needed her closer.

Though he wouldn’t kiss her, he’d sure as hell dance with her.

Ignoring her assurance that she was meant for another man, Malcolm pulled her into the dancing crowd. It didn’t matter if the music was merry. He wasn’t in the mood for speed. Besides, he was viciously aroused. She’d feel his need while she tried to keep focus on the man she so eagerly sought. 

“Goddess above, what are you doing to me,” she whispered, voice strangled.

Arms wrapped around her lower back, he brought his mouth against her ear. “‘Twill be no goddess giving you answers, only me.” He tightened his hold. “Do you feel me then, lass?”

“How could I not?” she gasped. Hands clamped on his upper arms, she turned her face into his chest and mumbled, “You show ill respect to a man you have not met.”

“I dinnae respect a man until he earns it.” Malcolm closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.

As each individual note trilled from the bagpipe, she melted against him more thoroughly than the icy snowflakes speckling his heated skin. Fire and drink might warm the crowd but where they stood his breath hit the air in foggy puffs. Always a fan of the cold, but an even bigger fan of a bonnie wee lass against him, he cupped one hand around the back of her neck.

Her heart thundered against his.

Her body shuddered.

“Easy, lass,” he whispered. “I willnae take what you’re unwilling to give.”

“Yet you hold me prisoner,” she murmured.

“Nay, we but dance.”

“If only.”

Her words were so soft he barely heard them.

Jaw grinding, he held her securely while pressing tighter against her.

“No,” she whispered. Then she pulled back, her voice stronger as her eyes met his. “No.”

“Aye, lass.” But he loosened his hold and gave her one more word before he let her go. “Soon.”


About the Author:

Sky Purington is the best-selling author of eleven novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.

Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com

Interested in keeping up with Sky's latest news and releases? Visit Sky's website, http://www.skypurington.com to download her free App on iTunes and Android or sign up for her quarterly newsletter.

Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.

Website:   www.skypurington.com






Friday, August 15, 2014

The Blue Effect - Rose Shababy




Dear All: I am currently having HUGE problems with my Blogger interface

hence the late tour. If there is someone proficient enough with Blogger
that would mind contacting me, I would appreciate it.


 
The Blue Effect

Renegade Heroes

Book One

Rose Shababy



Genre: Adult Urban Sci-fi/Fantasy



Date of Publication: September 8th, 2014



Cover Artist: Regina Wamba



Book Description:



Blue Brennan is jaded and bitter despite her pinup girl looks and quick wit. Night after night, she scours the Seattle club scene looking for someone or something to fill the emptiness inside.



When she meets the mysterious Kasey, her world stops… literally. He claims she has the ability to control time and stuns her even further when he reveals his own gifts.



Blue is inexplicably drawn to Kasey and reluctantly enters his world filled with a new breed of humanity. They’re misfits like her, blessed or cursed with powerful abilities, struggling to hide their differences from the rest of society.



Then the group discovers a nameless, faceless sociopath with nightmarish powers; and he’s coming for Blue. She’s left reeling when they discover her gifts are the key to defeating his terrible evil and saving them all.



Now she must race against the clock to harness her own powers and save her new friends. Can she be more than a renegade? Can she be a hero too?




Excerpt One



As I scanned the crowd my eyes fell on one person out of sync with the rest. Close to my age, maybe a little older, he obviously didn’t belong in the club. His clothes, messy looking slacks and a gray t-shirt, hung on his lean frame. He finished his look with a tartan scarf and brown fedora that seemed more at home on an old man than one in his twenties.

He pulled his hat off and shaggy brown hair fell across his eyes as he danced. Well, he didn’t dance so much as sway to the music, his eyes closed while a hint of a smile graced his lips. As he danced, he bobbed his head back and forth and his hands moved like graceful waves. His shadow grin seemed to infuse his entire body. He danced by himself as if he didn’t care what anyone around him thought, as if he danced for himself and no one else. He looked completely out of place, yet he appealed to me and I felt myself wanting to go to him.

I was shocked by the surge of jealousy that rushed through me as I stared at him. His face broke through my drunken haze and I realized this man was no paper doll. His face belonged to a truly happy man. Hell, he looked fucking ecstatic.  

He had the face of an angel.



Excerpt Two



“Kasey,” I yelled stupidly, knowing it wouldn’t do any good but unable to stop myself. “Kasey, where are you?”

I burst through another door to find the bathroom, a layer of steam frozen in the air. I pulled the curtain back without even thinking about who might be in the shower, and slumped with relief when I found Kasey. He held a washcloth to his face as a stream of water rained down on him, frozen in place.

“Kasey,” I breathed happily, and reached out to grab his hand.

As I touched him, the same spark I always felt when we made contact erupted and the world came to life again. Water spewed all over me, soaking my clothes, spilling over onto the floor, but I didn’t care.

Kasey startled and yelped a little when he saw me. He recovered quickly. “Blue? What happened?”

I smiled, my tears mixing with the hot water from the shower as I launched myself at him, hugging him tightly. He smiled back and wrapped his arms around me.

Thank god I found you! I thought. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered in his ear.

“I knew you would come back,” he whispered back, just before his lips found mine.



Excerpt Three



Clearly the time had come for the two of us to have it out. “I may have thought you were hot when we first met, and you got to listen to the nasty thoughts in my head, but every time we meet I find it harder to like you. In fact, every time you open your mouth, you get uglier and uglier. I don’t know if Val was right, and you really are jealous, but let me make this crystal clear for you. There is no part of me that wants you.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then, before I could do anything, his hands shot out and grabbed my shoulders again. He yanked me close to him and I the heat from his chest burned through my t-shirt. His face was so close to mine I could feel his hot breath blazing against my cheek when he spoke. “You’re a little liar,” he hissed. “There is a part of you that likes this,” he shook me a little and I flushed with rage… and something else. “And goddamn me, there’s a part of me that likes it too.” He hovered with his face still close to mine and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. My head fell back slightly and my lips parted involuntarily as I anticipated his invasion.

Then he released me, almost flinging me away from him. I pressed my back against the wall as I watched him and tried to catch my breath as my traitorous heart beat so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

“Let me make this crystal clear for you,” he mimicked. “Kasey is like a brother to me and if you hurt him, you’ll wish you never met me.”

 “I already do,” I whispered with sincerity.





About the Author:



Rose Shababy and her family reside in eastern Washington State. Rose grew up in the Northwest but swears she’s going to move to warmer climates someday. She’s claimed this for over 20 years, however, and has yet to move more than 75 miles away from her mother.



Rose has a deep love of all things Star Trek and yearns to travel the heavens, as well as an intense desire to be bitten by a radioactive spider.



Unfortunately she sucks at science and math so she hasn’t been able bring her dreams to life, instead living vicariously through books, comics, television and film. She hopes to someday make a million dollars so she can afford to buy her way to the international space station, but she’d settle for being able to fly around the world and leap tall buildings in a single bound.



Rose also loves to cook and worked for years in a gourmet Italian grocery and deli where she learned to hone her skills. She prepares culinary masterpieces for her family, but fervently wishes the dishes would wash themselves. Especially now that her dishwashers/children are nearly grown and only one still lives at home.

Rose likes to use her free time wisely. For instance, she likes to daydream, will often read for hours until she falls asleep on the couch with an electric blanket and a warm tabby cat curled up on her hip, as well as spending cozy weekend days watching Syfy movies like Sharknado and Mega Piranha with her husband.



If Rose were a cartoon animal, she’d prefer to be a wise old owl or a sleek and sexy jaguar, but in reality she’d probably be a myopic mole with coke-bottle glasses.