Friday, January 28, 2022
Wolf Warriors Duet
Publication date: January 28th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Future Earth. The privileged few build their wealth on the backs of slaves who are neither man nor beast, but both. Those with gold to spare spend it at the Arena… betting on the Warrior Shifters is the pastime of the elite.
Claimed by the Guardian Wolf: Miranda is the daughter of one of the cruelest Gladiator owners. Still her heart remains pure. The last thing she bargained for was catching the eye of the fiercest warrior of all — Brandwulfr.
To Brandwulfr, Miranda is a way out of this godforsaken realm, a way to get home. He doesn’t need to be attracted to the silly little human. Yet something in her touch awakens the wolf within him…
Taken by the Wolf King: Caught between deadly politics and a man bent on claiming her, all Elsa can afford to focus on is saving her children — at any cost.
Tortured and maddened by pain, Leif vows revenge on the woman he would have made his queen. Will his hatred of what she was forced to do build a wall between them that can never be torn down?
Warning: Adult Content including graphic violence, scientific experiments, alien abduction, and torture, may be triggers for some readers.
Publisher’s Note: Wolf Warriors Duet contains the previously published novels Claimed by the Guardian Wolf and Taken by the Wolf King. These books have been extensively edited for this volume.
As they spoke, Brandwulfr noticed some of the more aggressive men watching the exchange closely, no doubt listening to every word. He could lose control of the situation as quickly as he’d gained it.
“It really doesn’t matter much. You’re here. At my mercy.” When she opened her mouth to say something — probably plead for her life — Brandwulfr mashed his lips against hers in a searing kiss.
Plundering her mouth, he slid his tongue inside, taking what she was too stunned to refuse. Miranda trembled beneath his touch, her hands tightening on his wrist and arm. She tried to kick out at him, but he only pressed his body harder against hers, trapping her tightly against the wall. Her fear was a bitter taste, but it was better than letting others think he was at her disposal instead of the other way around. Little whimpers escaped her throat, another bitter taste. Brandwulfr found he wanted this woman whimpering with need, not terror or — worse — disgust. The thought bewildered him. For a man who always knew his course of action, this feeling of indecision was maddening.
Against his will, he softened the kiss, coaxing rather than taking. It wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he seemed unable to do otherwise. Before he knew it, he’d loosened his hold on her neck, turning it into more of a caress than a restraint. He knew the moment everything changed for her. Her body still trembled, she still whimpered, but she met the thrust of his tongue with a tentative stroke. In that instant, Brandwulfr knew he’d have Miranda for his own. He inhaled, taking her scent deeply into his lungs, secure in the knowledge there was nowhere she could go that he couldn’t find her. She might be the daughter of his enemy, but she would be his.
As he ended the kiss, Brandwulfr held her gaze. Her eyes were slightly glazed but wary. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips as if she wanted more, but her attention was immediately back on his eyes and her face flamed. Again, fear poured off her in waves, the smell turning from the sweet scent of budding arousal to the bitter taint of fear.
“Why did you do that?” Her question was asked so softly, Brandwulfr was certain even the shifters nearby couldn’t hear her. It was almost as if she didn’t realize she’d actually spoken. Everything in him ached to be gentle with her, screamed at him that she wasn’t like him and needed him to be tender, careful. Unfortunately, the situation dictated otherwise. He couldn’t show weakness, couldn’t afford to actually care about her.
“You see all those men watching you? The ones in this cell and the ones across the corridor? Nearly every cell in this place is connected by tunnels. The second I leave you or turn my back, every man here will be after you. And without my protection, they will get you. Do you know what they’d do to you?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” she muttered. She shook violently now, her body quivering against his with equal parts fear and arousal. That feminine scent of need called to Brandwulfr on a primal level, one that was nearly impossible to deny, her fear feeding her arousal in a sickening twist of adrenaline. If he were going to get them both out of here alive, he had to ignore it.
“Now, kiss me again or you won’t have my protection.”
“I will not!” Her outrage was clear, though he could still scent her arousal. “I will not be bullied into being your whore!”
“The only way you’re going to live long enough to make good your promise to help these men is for everyone here to think you’re my woman. The only way for them to think that is for you to kiss me. Or I could fuck you right here.” He sneered. “Stake my claim in a graphic display that would make sure they didn’t dare touch you. Your choice, but I don’t normally like to display my sexual prowess for an audience.” Wide-eyed, Miranda shook her head, a silent denial, her face going pale. “Now, this time, I suggest you kiss me back. And you better kiss me like you mean it.”
Romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of. Now, she breathes life into faeries, space hunters, werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, and a few just plane ole ordinary people. She loves to see the awkward, self-conscious band geek get the captain of the football team and make him beg for it.
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Thursday, January 27, 2022
(Come for Me, #1)
Publication date: January 27th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
She’s the hero. He plays one. That’s why falling in love could be the biggest—and best—mistake of her life…
Former Marine Charlie Ravenel devotes her life to protecting women. A job that’s left its mark on her—body and soul. When she’s not working, she’s safe hiding in the shadows. Alone. But when a young celebrity finds herself tormented by a dangerous stalker, Charlie vows to keep her safe.
One problem. She’ll just have to avoid her client’s sexy co-star—the alluring one who seems so intent on breaking down Charlie’s defenses…
No one really knows Daniel Pierce. They think they do. Millions want him. But no one knows what’s beneath his heroic veneer. He doesn’t let them. Until her.
Charlie, with her arousing smile and razor blade tongue, attracts him like no other. He’d do anything to ease her pain, to make her his. How can he lure her into giving him a chance?
If Charlie has any hope of overcoming the demons of her past in time to save the girl, she’ll have to trust her gut…and Daniel. But what if trust is a luxury she just can’t afford?
PIERCE HER, Book One in the COME FOR ME series, is a steamy, romantic suspense novel featuring a kickass heroine who just happens to fall for Hollywood’s sexiest man alive.
Relief dropped the tension in her shoulders when she turned to unpack the rifle. She had to turn away. Away from Daniel Pierce to and her breath.
What the holy fuck was that, Charlie Girl?
Her body howled awake at his handshake. At his touch. The first time in six years it had responded to any man.
As a bodyguard, the sets she worked on accustomed her to being surrounded by beautiful people, men and women. She had seen, hell fought off, how such beauty was as much a burden as a blessing for many of them. She learned to treat them like nobodies. Or anybodies. It was one of the many reasons they trusted her.
But damn. Daniel Pierce, famously the sexiest man alive, possessed so much exquisite physical DNA it required a full audit. Sure, she had seen him plastered across covers and screens. A sudden flush fired up her cheeks for the solo plea‐ sure she gave herself at the sight of his photo a few times in the past. But that was a screen, a fleeting fantasy. This was him, palpable and in person. And oh, where his staggering bounty of beauty stopped, his sexy charisma raced, lapping her body for the win.
Damn, Charlie Girl. She adjusted the scope on the rifle. Slow your roll. You’ve got a job to do. A girl at risk.
And she’d fucking asked for this. Asked Anders where the cast hung out. Wanting to meet each one of them. Off set. In a setting where their guard was down. In a setting where a stalker may betray himself.
She wasn’t wheels down in Madrid for twenty-four hours, kissing her relaxing trip to Miami with Juliette goodbye, before she found herself jumping into the damn deep end of this job. Right into the ocean of Daniel Pierce.
And it was raging wet.
Over six feet of hulking muscles wrapped down a body that famously took discipline and sacrifice to achieve. Black hair fell in soft waves, framing aqua eyes as deep as a cenote, enticing anyone to jump in. Stubble blanketed a square jaw and deep cleft chin. Pillow lips formed a perfect soft bow, almost feminine, until they flashed a white-hot, hungry smile.
He was cast as Zeus, the god of gods who had no equal, many enemies and could bed any woman in a comic book series turned movie franchise. Two films had dominated the box office in the blockbuster series. A third was rumored. And everywhere Daniel Pierce went, he was “Zeus” to his fans. Charlie read how many followers and press also branded him— “Sex God.”
Careful, Charlie Girl. With a look like that, you’ll have a lot more to protect than a girl.
Kelly Finley is fiction author of contemporary romances featuring bada** women and grown-a** men. She lives in the Carolinas with her husband and family. A rebel with many causes, she fancies black leather, dirty jokes, and smart mouths.
Thrilled by a flipped script and ticked off by women portrayed as weak, she noticed how many steamy, sexy heroines were missing, particularly from suspense and military romance. Her friends shared the frustration and told her to practice what she has taught for twenty years. Her books feature characters we champion and love—ones with shameless heat, brave hearts, and whip-smart minds.
She's most likely at her keyboard right now, putting the next heroine on the page.
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Dior or Die
Laura E. Akers
Publication date: January 22nd 2022
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Suspense
She’s survived dangerous missions for the government, but can she survive life among the rich?
Davia Glenn is the first woman on a covert paramilitary team until a mission goes deadly wrong. She inherits a fortune, moves to a wealthy community, and soon discovers the crazy under all that money. On a terrorist’s hit list, Davia must navigate her new life while dodging assassins.
Torn between two men and two worlds, Davia must decide her future— but this time, she wears haute couture instead of camouflage and combat boots.
If you love the grit of Jack Reacher and the fun of Stephanie Plum, one-click Dior or Die today for your next addicting, suspenseful mystery read.
Four men shot at me with automatic rifles.
I sat in a chair blindfolded, arms bound behind me with duct tape, and a gag stuffed in my mouth. The relentless gunfire battered my senses.
Control the mind-game, Davia.
Forcing my hands into tight balls, I leaned forward and arched my back, preparing to free myself. In response, a bullet cracked one of my chair’s legs, and I almost crashed to the ground.
This ordeal was a boys’ club welcome to the first woman assigned to the most elite covert paramilitary team in existence. Of course, the team wouldn’t greet me with candy and flowers, but this?
My face grew hot from suppressed fury as the rounds whizzed past unabated. I slowed my breathing. Four breaths in, four out.
Finally, there was silence.
The malignant perfume of gunfire burned my nostrils. I listened for the click of empty magazines dropped and replaced. Instead, booming laughter and the dull thud of men slapping each other’s backs echoed through the space.
“Let’s give Glenn some time to sit in her messed drawers.” It was James Warden, my team’s leader. When we met this morning at our training base in Virginia, he radiated Apex Alpha. Now, I amended it to Apex Asshat.
“We can tell the colonel we didn’t hit the hostage,” said another.
After their voices drifted away, I renewed my efforts to break the bindings. Within minutes, I was loose. I spat the gag from my mouth and tore the blindfold from my eyes, temples throbbing. How long would it take my shattered hearing to return in full?
My location was a plywood shoot house with movable walls. Dummy targets riddled with bullet holes surrounded me, and spent brass casings blanketed the floor like a golden carpet. Crouching, I snuck to the door, flattened myself against the wall, and peeked out.
Another teammate, Savant, sat at a distant table under a canvas shade, headphones atop his mop of fair hair. Hunched over a laptop, he bopped in time to an unheard beat. Gunfire began at a nearby range.
The group had moved on.
Bending, I lifted the combat knife strapped to my right calf and noticed a bullet hole had pierced a cargo pocket. The round missed my leg by a fraction of an inch.
I was almost a victim of high-speed lead poisoning.
Jaw set, I crept forward and thrust the knife under Savant’s chin in case he wanted to continue the hazing. Complex surveillance images streamed across his laptop’s screen as heavy metal blared from the headphones I tugged off.
“Don’t move,” I hissed.
“Oh, hey, Davia.” He pointed toward the distant gunfire. “Have fun.”
He never looked up.
Dropping Savant’s headphones into his lap, I put my knife back in its sheath. At the weapons table, I selected a submachine gun.
Popping in filtered ear protection, I stalked out to the range. Let’s find the hyenas.
Four battle-hardened men turned in sync when I approached, their expressions ranging from surprised to annoyed at my unexpected appearance.
“Sorry, I’m late.” My voice was saccharine sweet, like I was tardy for a Sunday picnic.
“We wasn’t ’specting you at all,” said Hodge, our burly Texan medic. “You’re tougher than a one-eared alley cat.”
Most worked to hide smiles, but Warden scowled. “Careful with that gun,” he said. “I’ll show you how to use it in a sec.”
Show me? I trained for years on every weapon they used, and some they didn’t. Not pausing, I discharged all my ammo, disintegrating the bullseye of the target.
When I finished, teammate Ned tugged at his scruffy beard and said, “We should nickname you Bombshell, and not because you’re blonde.”
The men all laughed, except Warden.
FIREARMS PRACTICE CONCLUDED, we entered the primary building of the complex. Our boss, Colonel Streeter, kept an office in a nearby wing.
“Why isn’t Savant coming with us?” I asked Ned.
“He operates on a different plane than us mere mortals.” Besides his unkempt beard, Ned wore his brown hair in a hipster bun. Grooming rules did not apply to this unit.
A female aide who worked with Colonel Streeter beckoned to another team member, K. He put up a hand in acknowledgment. K resembled Idris Elba, but younger and buffer. They moved away down a side hall.
The rest of us turned into a room with a mat-lined floor. On one wall, racks held fighting sticks, knives of various sizes, and boxing gloves.
“Ned, you and H pair up. I’ll take on Bombshell,” Warden drawled, emphasis on the B. Ned and Hodge pulled on boxing gloves.
Warden handed me two twenty-eight-inch sticks, took two himself, and we faced off. At six-three, he had me by six inches.
It was Davia versus Goliath.
“Ready?” Warden’s full lips curled into a sneer.
“Ready to lay you out.”
He came at me and didn’t hold back, hitting with the power of a rhinoceros in a charge. Stepping fast to keep him from knocking me over, I blocked blow after blow. I pictured Batman bubbles over our heads: Bam! Pow! Krunch!
Warden made the men on the cover of Muscle & Fitness magazine look like featherweights. He was one hundred pounds heavier than me and sported gallon jug biceps. Our weapons were a mere blur until a searing thwack landed on my upper arm, and I cringed away.
“Give up?” Warden asked, driving me toward a corner.
“You. First.” I gasped, sucking wind.
Back up-Duck-Back up.
At the edge of the mat, our sticks clanged. Cornered, I did a quick roll and slammed one of my bars against the back of Warden’s knees.
He crashed to the floor.
A giant hand caught my right ankle and jerked.
I fell hard on my face.
Kicking free, I sprang up, but Warden did the same. Rivulets of sweat coursed from his close-cropped, dark hair and down his face. We circled each other, and I grinned as he also fought to catch his breath.
“Let’s go weaponless,” he grunted. “Fine.” We tossed our sticks aside.
We went at each other in an all-out grappling fight, working through an entire catalog of wrestling, martial arts, and street fighting tactics. Kyle Kavanagh, my South Dakota neighbor, and his myriad of deadly friends, had drilled me relentlessly through the years. I remembered their admonition: The bigger they are, the harder they— Warden latched onto my shoulder and tossed me to the ground.
His reinforced steel body landed on top of me, and the air blasted from my lungs.
Before he could trap my arms against the mats, I thrust a hand past his groin and wrapped my arm around his upper thigh. He went still for a split-second, hyper-aware I was a woman near his most prized and vulnerable possessions.
To make up for his momentary pause, he grabbed for my hair, but it was too short. He rolled over in an instant, clamped an arm around my chest, and spoke close to my ear. “You don’t belong here.”
“Says you.” I walloped him in the midsection with an elbow, leaped sideways, and broke away.
We jumped to our feet, circling again, checking for weaknesses.
My stamina hit the edge of empty. If I didn’t do something soon, this fight would be over. Warden lunged for me, and I caught his forearm. Using the last of my strength, I flipped him to the ground and trapped one of his knees with my legs.
“Call it quits?” I drove his joint to an unnatural angle, grinding my hips against his bulk.
Warden growled with frustration but didn’t give up. He bucked against me like a fly trapped in a spider’s web fighting for its life. After an age, he tapped out. I released him, falling back on the mat, drained. He untangled himself and got to his feet.
“Here.” He reached down to help me up. I took his hand, and he yanked me within inches of his face. Our eyes locked.
He held me much longer than necessary, then let go.
“Welcome to the team,” he said and walked away.
I grew up in a small town in Southern California. My early writing career began when I created a neighborhood newspaper, won an American Legion essay award in 8th grade, and became editor of my high school newspaper.
At age 24, I became a prosecutor for the San Diego County District Attorney's office. I handled high-profile murder, rape, domestic violence, and gang cases. When I person I convicted made death threats, I trained in self-defense and weapons with a former black-ops agent. This led to the creation of my protagonist, Davia Glenn.
I'm a Distinguished Toastmaster and like to advocate for suicide prevention, elder abuse prevention, and fighting sex crimes against children.
This all sounds serious and achievement driven, but I also enjoy traveling, taking photos, and Korean dramas. I have two cats and a great guy.
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