Sunday, October 17, 2021

#RomanceSunday #ShadowFire


Shadow Fire

Courtney Rene


Genre:YA/ Paranormal/Fantasy

Book Heat Level: 3


Buy at: Amazon


BLURB:  Shadow Fire


No one really knows who Leif is. They know the man he portrays and the things he has done, both good and bad. He was a boy that came from nothing and grew into a man full of rage that almost killed the one person he set out to save. He roams the realms waiting for death. Waiting for an absolution that doesn’t come. Then a rumor surfaces. A threat has been made against Sunny. Leif sets out to try to right the wrongs of his past. He sets out to do what he was meant to do from the beginning, save the queen. Can he do it alone or will he have to do the one thing that is hardest for him, which is:  Ask for help. 



EXCERPT: Shadow Fire


"I have been looking for you."

I opened my eyes, turned my head, and stared up, way up into a pair of big brown eyes fringed in long lashes. Eyes so dark they looked almost black.

"You're a hard person to find."

That was the point. I didn't want to be found. I liked my hermit existence. I didn't have to see anyone or talk to anyone if I didn't want. I liked to roam the realms and see what I could find. There were so many things we didn't know about the four realms. It wasn't so much as fun, as it was time consuming. That was what I wanted, though. The sooner time passed, the better off I would be.

"You look like crap, Leif," she said when I didn't respond.

Her voice, although lowered in disdain, was soft and feminine. If I weren't waiting for death, maybe I would have cared more. I tried not to notice her creamy, pink tinged skin. I tried not to notice her high cheekbones, and lush lips. I tried not to, but I did anyway. How could I not? She was beautiful. Not that I cared.

"Man, and you stink. God, when was the last time you shaved…"

I lifted a hand up to my face and felt the length of coarse hair that covered the bottom part of my face. How long had it been?

"…or taken a bath for that matter."

A bit longer than I had realized apparently. "What do you want, Cinder?"

She was silent for a moment. Was it my voice? It was gravelly with disuse, but the tone was indifferent, not aggressive.

Finally she said, "I came to bring you this." This, being a sunshine yellow envelope with my name written in bold calligraphy on the front. She held it down to where I lay on the rocky red ground.

I hesitated a moment before I took the proffered envelope. I didn't open it. I could only stare at the writing. I knew the writing and, therefore, who it was from without even having to open it. What did she want? What did it say?

"Why are you here? Why are you laying down there on the ground like that?" Cinder asked.

I used her questions as an excuse to put off the inevitable and said, "I like it down here." I lay sprawled out on the rocky red dirt that made up the Fire Realm. The air was hot, the sun even hotter. If I lay there long enough, maybe I would just evaporate and be gone. No more Leif. No more running. No more hiding. Just gone. Finally.

"Yeah, but why?"

I didn't answer, instead my attention returned to the yellow envelope. I lifted the unsealed flap, and slid out the thick ivory card with silver writing.

…cordially invited…..




I slipped the card back within the envelope and dropped it down next to where I lay. One grain of the red clay had found its way on top. My eyes fell to that red dot.


"So, what?" I said still focused on the grain of clay.

"So, are you going to come?"




"Why not?"

I stayed silent. Everyone knew why not.

"She's not mad at you. In fact, she misses you. She talks about you all the time," Cinder said.

She did? Did she talk about how I tried to kill her? What about how I used her?

"She really is hoping you will come. That's why I'm hand delivering your invite. She wanted to make sure you got it. Saw it."

Did she really want me there? Was it all just a joke to get me back for all I had done?

"Will you at least think about it?"






Saturday, October 16, 2021

#SciFiFantasySaturday #DesertBlood


Title: Desert Blood

Author: Brain Young



Genre: Sci Fi/Fantasy

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 1


Buy at Amazon



BLURB: Desert Blood


The Dolus invasion rolled over the unassuming Kingdom of Larista leaving ghost towns in its wake. It brought death and destruction in abundance and left the people of Larista without their king or his heirs. It left the kingdom reeling with the realization that they weren’t alone on their isolated side of the Maker’s Mountain but instead part of a world that desperately wanted and needed the life giving water they took for granted.


One of the king’s sons, the Prisoner Prince Alexander, is still alive but held captive on the unexplored eastern side of the Maker’s Mountain known as the Wasteland. The man that holds him is the Emperor of the Free Cities, Jameson. His quest for vengeance and conquest has stirred up the other nations of the Wasteland and made them aware of the riches of Larista.


Alexander’s lifelong friends, Percival and Maximus must set out on individual journeys to find their friend, their king and themselves. But they will face a litany of foes along their paths. A horde of Beleick soldiers led by the Dictact threaten to sweep over the land sending everything into chaos while the Sisters of Gnaritas and the Death Stalker assassins weave their own intricate schemes for control of the Wasteland and the water that might flow from Larista.


Amongst so many people blood thirsty for power can Alexander find his way to the Maker’s Path or will he succumb to his own demons and find the Wraith’s Den in Oblivion…


REVIEW: Desert Blood


Book Whiz

This was a very fun, action-packed read. Desert Blood has very well-paced POV switches. Also, I love the fact that there are POVs for the villains; it helps us gain an insight into their world and how they think, which is a very good idea. There’s a massive character development arc in just one book! The characters in this book have dimension and their own backstories. I love how throughout the book, each character has a specific subplot and in the end, all these subplots just tie together wonderfully. I like the fact that you feel sympathy for every character — even the villains! I caught myself rooting for them a lot. The author’s writing style is eye-capturing, descriptive and full of action. He has more of a show – don’t tell – style, which I love in books. This book has so many cliffhangers; they kept me up all night reading! Overall, this book is an engaging, tension-filled read with beautiful descriptions and an amazing writing style.



EXCERPT: Desert Blood



Gravel bit at his face and the palms of his hands; it tore at his light shirt as well, causing pain to sear across his chest and elbows and mixing his blood with the grit and dirt of the road. Being thrown from a moving vehicle wasn’t something Maximus had ever intended to experience. Until a couple of months ago, I hadn't even seen one in working condition.The thoughts managed to penetrate the turmoil of his current circumstances.

The frayed ropes that had bound his hands together snapped from the impact of his fall. Once he skidded to a stop, Maximus tore the rough sack off his head. Light from a high and hot, late day sun forced his eyes half shut, and he started to cough as the corrosive grit swirling in the air invaded his lungs. He forced himself to suck in more of the dreadful stuff along with the oxygen mixed with it and painfully made his way to his feet.

The choppers, as the locals affectionately called them, circled around him. Their riders hooted and jeered over the rattling engine noise that provided the bikes with their name. They were makeshift versions of the motorcycles high-priced couriers possessed and cobbled together from whatever spare parts their riders could scrounge up. Tires spit more sand at him and added to the growing cloud of dust. He turned circles, in vain, attempting to follow the dancing mob and make an accurate head count. After a moment, he realized it was pointless as not only was the sun hampering his vision, but his sight was slightly blurry as well. He didn’t remember hitting his head when he was thrown from the chopper, but it throbbed nonetheless.

He did notice an abandoned building that loomed in the distance beyond the motorcycles; it was distorted from the dust swirling in the air and heat waves radiating from the ground. Its broken windows and sagging roof weren’t very promising, but it would be better than standing out in the open. The only problem was getting to it. He doubted he’d get more than a few steps in any direction before being run down by one of the gangers. And that was definitely all they were. Despite his foreign status, Maximus had spent enough time in the military to tell the difference between a professional unit and a bunch of testosterone teeming punks.

It’s worth a try.He sprinted towards it and made it all the way to the ring of riders before realizing he would never get through them. The idea of trying to dive past them and hope his luck held out crossed his mind, but his instincts took over. He skidded to a stop and one of the passing riders gave him a boot to the chest. The rider’s momentum was jarring and Maximus fell on his back hard enough to send the wind rushing from his lungs.

He looked up to see the rider who had kicked him wobble out of line before his bike tipped over and spilled him to the ground. A howl of laughter loud enough to be heard over the other riders was aimed at their fallen brethren. He responded with muttered cursing and a show of rude gestures. Maximus pulled himself to his feet for the second time in as many minutes.

Motion caught his attention and Maximus tried to focus his gaze on one of the riders who broke from the pack. The man sped to mere feet in front of Maximus before slipping his rear wheel to the side and coming to a skidding stop, spraying more sand into the air. Maximus didn’t flinch from the display of showmanship; he only closed his eyes and tilted his head aside to avoid the worst of the grit.look at his greeter, he allowed himself to slump against the relatively cold stone wall. 



Friday, October 15, 2021

#Friday'sFeaturedTitle #HighlandMiracle


Title: Highland Miracle

Author: Christine Young



Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Paranormal/Historical

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 2


Buy at Amazon:  


BLURB: Highland Miracle


HURTLED THROUGH TIME, Sean Michael Sterling, landed in the midst of a May Day celebration he didn’t understand, assuming the role of Laird Sterling. 

ILLIGITAMATE CHILD OF NOBILITY, Reagan Douglas searches for a way out of her half brother’s house.


EXCERPT: Highland Miracle


"Look, Tia," Reagan said as she pointed toward a nearby hill.  

"What is it?" 

"A handsome stranger," Reagan giggled, instantly transfixed by the man. "Coming to dance around the May Pole?" Reagan looked a little more closely. "Oh, it's the Laird of Sterling Castle. Why is he on foot?"

"You are not thinking what I think," Tia said. "You dinnae know who he is. He looks like the laird but then he doesn't."

"How do I look?" Regan asked, ignoring Tia and smoothing her skirts then hoping she looked beautiful enough to snare this man. She wanted to sweep the laird off his feet. This might be her one and only chance.

She heard the celebration in the background and watched as all eyes rose to meet the Laird's. Her brother William's eyes were startled then guarded and thoughtful. Tia's were intrigued. Some of the others gazes were wary and distrustful. They were a superstitious lot here in the Highlands. But even as she watched the people around her, she could not fully keep her attention from the Laird who had never attended this celebration before. 

She felt a curious draw as she met his piercing gaze. She had only once before seen the man. He was an illusive creature, usually keeping inside the walls of his castle. Rumor had it the castle was haunted and the ghost was a woman who kept him from finding true love or happiness.

"Who do you think he is and where did he come from?" Tia asked peering intently at the man. "I really don't think it's the Laird. No one has spoken to the man in years. He is so withdrawn. A few months ago people were saying he had died."

The man possessed a calm air as if he knew and recognized all the people in front of him. His dark gaze was mysterious, and when he stopped walking, he stood as still as a rock, striking and in clothes she had never seen anyone wear before. She had thought then, though, it would not have mattered what he wore.

Reagan could not draw her eyes from his and felt her flesh grow warm. The way he stared at her was unnerving. Her heart thundered beneath her chest. It seemed as if she knew this man from some long ago time.

But that wasn't possible.

It was May Day. The very air was filled with such excitement, and now this man was here as if sent for her and her alone. In the meadow maids and youths already danced around the Maypole. A man with a bear had the animal dancing circles upon his hind feet, and a marionette show was in progress. A flutist played in honor of King James, a group of Highlanders played the bagpipes. Noise and confusion flourished. The day was bright, clear blue, and so very beautiful. 

She saw a strange gold dusting swirling and dancing in the air around her. Instantly, she felt compelled toward the stranger. For a moment she thought someone spoke to her, encouraging her onward.

Reagan was grateful she'd taken so much time with her clothes. Her hose were white silk, and her little leather slippers were blue decorated with glass stones. Next to her flesh she wore a soft silk shift and over it a binding corset and three different petticoats. The dress was blue brocade, with stomachers in velvet, low-cut bodices, and half sleeves with scores of blue lace. Her facemask was covered with feathers and plumes. Her golden hair was done in ringlets, tied through with blue satin ribbons.  When she'd looked at herself in the mirror, she had been quite pleased with the results. 

So lost in thought, she had lost track of the man. 

Until he stood next to her.

"A...hi," he said. "I'm Sean Michael Sterling." He stared at her with dark dangerous brown eyes as he crossed his arms on his chest.

Thursday, October 14, 2021

#MySweetBroc #HistoricalRomance


Title: My Sweet Broc

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance

Book Heat Level: 


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Read first chapter




Bliss MacTavish finds the repercussions more than she bargains for when she gives herself bad boy, Broc Wallace.





He's a bad bad boy...


Broc Wallace is a fun-loving rake who never thought any beautiful woman could melt his heart. He lives life in the present enjoying the camaraderie of his friends and the pleasures of his mistress. When Bliss races into his life, he is ill prepared to deal with her secrets or give up the tenor of his life. When the truth is revealed, he finds himself unable to forgive and forget the betrayal. 


...but she's sweet for him


Bliss MacTavish knows she's playing with fire when she refuses to tell this bad boy her name. He tempts her with sweet whispers of seduction knowing her innocent nature will be unable to refuse all he yearns to give her. Deciding to follow her heart, she finds the repercussions more than she bargains for when she gives herself to this bad boy.





Broc didn’t want to let go of her hand, at least not until she made it clear she didn’t like this tiny advance. He was inexplicably drawn to her and hoped she wasn’t some debutant who would seek a commitment. He liked his freedom and didn’t mean to lose it anytime soon.

            “Bliss,” he paused, “where do you live?” he asked, trying for a bit more information from her. The thought of a debutante seeking him out sent a wave of precaution through his head. But what would some random debutante be doing riding hell bent across a meadow on MacTavish land? A debutant would not have to earn a living.

            “Why?” Her answer was curt.

            “Just curious. It seems you know more about me than I do you. It’s only fair, don’t you think?” 

            “No, fairness has nothing to do with any of this. I barely know you,” she said. “I’m not going to give you my address. A lady needs an air of intrigue about her.”

            “You know me well enough to watch me half naked chopping wood,” he told her, thinking he’d like to see her naked. Her dress hid her curves fairly well, but he could still tell quite a lot about her body. “I’m sure you know exactly where I live.”

            “And you weren’t a wee bit bashful either. I also saw a beautiful woman ride to the stables. I saw you kiss her. When you were half naked. So,” she paused gazing at him, her eyes simmering, “I’m sure you don’t care if I saw your chest and rippling muscles.” With that said she looked away as if she didn’t want him to see her reaction. He was sure he saw more than she intended.

            “Jealous?” Good lord but that was at least two months ago. His mistress paid him an unusual visit and he sent her away with the order to never come to his home again.

            “Of course not,” she protested to quickly.

            “The blush rising on your cheeks tells me you’re not speaking the truth. I think you should apologize or let me kiss you. Perhaps we should make a bet. Every time you lie you have to kiss me.”

            “No, I wouldn’t like to make a bet like that with you. I’ve been told you’re a very bad man where it comes to women.”

            “Who told you that?” He could only think of a few people who would say that about him, and it would be in jest or to warn a debutant away.

            “Just heard it. Don’t remember where. Probably one day when I was in town to sell my paintings.” She smushed her lips together, squinting, her eyebrows drawn together as if she was thinking.

            “Something doesn’t ring true.” 

            “Don’t know why you say that?” 

            “Back to my question, are you jealous? Should we find out if you like my kisses?” He grinned at her hesitancy, but the way her tongue swept across her lips told him she was thinking about telling him yes, or at least about a kiss.

            “Probably not a good idea.” She backed away from him, but she didn’t take her hand from his. “A kiss. No something like that could lead to other things a lady shouldn't do.”

            “Other things? What do you know about other things?”

            “Nothing really.”

            He decided a bit more persuasion might be appropriate here. He traced gentle circles on her wrist with his thumb and he watched her eyes cross for a second. “Probably not, but what if kissing you is a very good idea? What then? You’d miss something you would enjoy.”

            “Again, I barely know you. It’s not proper to kiss a man when you’ve only known him for a few minutes. One must wait...”

            “Proper!” he roared then chuckling. “You are the least proper woman I’ve ever met. And we’ve known each other over an hour now, not a few minutes. So a kiss would certainly be proper.”



























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He's a bad bad boy...Broc Wallace is a fun-loving rake who never thought any beautiful woman could melt his heart...but she's sweet for him Bliss MacTavish knows she's playing with fire when she refuses to tell this bad boy her name. He tempts her with sweet whispers of seduction knowing she will be unable to refuse all he yearns to give her


Wednesday, October 13, 2021

#Devlin'sAngel #HistoricalRomance


Title: Devlin’s Angel;

         Bad Boys Book Ten

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance

Book Heat Level:


Buy at: AmazonBarnes and NobleApple,KoboGoogle Play


Read first chapter


TAGLINE: Devlin’s Angel


Posing as a commoner, Devlin Mathews finds dealing with the tiny she-devil, Merry Stewart, exasperating as well as intriguing.


BLURB: Devlin’s Angel


He's a bad bad boy...


Merry Stewart is wildly unpredictable. Left alone to run wild over the Bordeaux and Scottish countryside she becomes impetuous and daringly bold. Over the years, she's found she can bedevil her softhearted brothers into allowing her exploits to go unnoticed. As a young woman she has learned she can do as she pleases when she pleases. Now, Merry has set her amorous sights on the Duke of Weston—a man she has never met but has every intention of marrying. No other suitor will satisfy her—especially not the exceptionally striking, horse breeder, Devlin Mathews.


...she's the woman of his desires.


Posing as commoner Devlin Mathews to escape a potentially fatal confrontation, Devlin is enthralled and infuriated by the audacious, duke-hunting dark haired vixen. Bedeviled at every opportunity, he finds dealing with the tiny she-devil exasperating as well as intriguing. Without revealing his true identify, the infamous rogue pledges to thwart Merry's plans to wed the man of her dream-never imagining the bewitching strategist would turn out to be the only woman he would ever dream of marrying.



Excerpt: Devlin’s Angel


“A sticky bun.” He grinned accepting the coffee, his mind taking a different route all together than what she would expect. Yes, I would definitely like to try her buns.As he sat down, her stare travelled along his chest, lower then lower until it stopped at his unfastened pants. Heat flamed inside him at her blatant perusal. What had he expected? He chose not to wear a shirt for his own purposes, wanting to see if the heat from the night before still existed between them.

It did. Now it flamed brighter and hotter.


“Daryl taught me. I made some for the bakery. Some of the customers told me they are really quite good.” She sat down on one of the chairs, sipping the hot liquid she held in front of her, watching him expectantly, a hesitant smile.


“I bet your buns are very tasty.” He bit into one, chewing thoughtfully, studying her, realizing she had no idea what he meant.


Her brows drew together, chewing over his words. “They are,” she agreed with him. “As is the coffee.”


“How did you know, Brat?” he asked.


“Know what?”

“That I preferred coffee over tea.”


“Do you? I always thought coffee tasted better with my buns,” she said straight faced. “Link, my youngest brother brought a lot back from Virginia.”


The liquid in his mouth spewed out with a cough. “What did you say?”


“You heard me. Coffee tastes better with my buns,” she told him so much indignation in her voice.


Keeping his laughter behind his teeth, “That’s what I thought you said.”


He’d like to try that particular combination as he wondered how much of what she said was feigned innocence or if she knew exactly what he was talking about. He’d like to discover that too. Did she have any clue what he referred to?


“So, what do you think?” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with anticipation of his response.


His heart twisted, lightened, changed from his usual jaded thoughts. With his mouth full of sticky buns, his eyes catching her gaze, he said. “They are really very good with your coffee. Or is it your buns with the coffee? Maybe it’s the cinnamon and sugar with the melted butter that makes your buns so delicious.”

She smiled, her twin dimples changing her face, so much he gasped, “Thank you. I can make them for you every morning if you like. You can taste my buns every morning along with all the cinnamon, sugar and butter you want.”


He inhaled then very slowly he said, “I would like to taste your sticky buns every morning, thank you.”


She beamed even more. “Ask and you will receive,” Her eyes were alight, her smile beautiful, overpowering.


Inwardly, he groaned. Ask and you will receive. There were a lot of things he could think of that he might want to ask of her. Trying to stick his wayward thoughts to the farthest recesses of his brain, he finished eating.





Scotland, Glasgow, Romance, Historical

























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Tuesday, October 12, 2021

#TellTaleTuesday #PleasingAri


Title: Pleasing Arie

            Bad Boys Book Six

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance

Book Heat Level:


Buy at: AmazonBarnes and NobleAppleKoboGoogle Play


Read first chapter




Alison Fletcher is stunned by the magnificently handsome Arie Demir who buys her and expects her to become his slave.


BLURB: Pleasing Arie


He's a bad bad boy...


Arie Demir has never been denied anything in his life. He takes what he wants. What he undeniably yearns for is the beautiful redheaded spitfire he sees in a restaurant in Glasgow. At every turn, she confuses him by disputing his power over her. Alison refuses to accept the fact he owns her. While Arie tries desperately with patience and tenderness to drive her wild with new sensations, his scorching kisses ignite the fires of her very soul to make her understand he is all she will ever want. 


...but is she pleasing him?


Alison Fletcher never expected to find herself kidnapped and sold to a whorehouse then bought by a Turkish sultan to become his slave. She vows to never surrender to the arrogant man who believes he owns her. She is stunned by the magnificently handsome man who awaits her compliance. Unexpectedly, she finds Arie the lesser of all the evils. The hidden depths of his mesmerizing dark brown eyes hold her into their power; his muscular embrace makes her weak with desire. She is his to do with as he wishes.



EXCERPT: Pleasing Arie


Arie stared at the doorknob for a few seconds before he slowly opened the door. Alison was still standing at the window, dressed in the see-through lavender harem pants and bolero jacket he gave her a few days past. Without a second thought, he grinned, appreciating the view, the finely sculpted curves. From the back she was just as beautiful as he imagined, her vibrant red hair spilling to below her waist, curling around her, tested all his senses.


“Go away.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” He stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. The outside lock turned as he walked toward her. “We need to speak, to understand each other. I need you to comprehend why you are here rather than the brothel.”

“Who are you?” Her voice quivered when she spoke. 

Her shoulders were stiff. Still she didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to see her face. Her visage was etched in his memory.

Arie understood this would not be easy between them. Now, he wasn’t sure if she was terrified or angry, perhaps both. He hoped it was anger causing her body to shake. Anger he could deal with much easier than fear. He prayed she didn’t cry. There would be no tears. Despite the lecture from Chelsea, Alison wasn’t going anywhere. She was his for as long as he wanted her.

In any case, Ali had nowhere to go. Donovan sold her house after selling her to the whorehouse. She had nothing save what he would give her.

“My name is Arie.” 

He stood beside her, looking out the window, his body barely touching her shoulder. A crescent moon stood out in a cloudless sky while brilliant stars emerged as the city lights dimmed even more with the hour.

“Then, Arie, what am I doing here?” she asked, her voice tense. “You have no right to keep me prisoner.”

“Do you want me to be brutally frank?” 

He smiled, wondering exactly how she would react when he gave her the truth of her existence now.

“Brutal?” she queried, her eyes wide as she turned to look at him, her hands fisted at her sides. “Everything that has happened to me in the last couple of days has been brutal. I’m a free woman. You’ve no right to hold me in this house.”

“You didn’t answer my question. I find I cannot continue on without an honest answer from you.” He smiled, realizing this woman was not afraid of him; defiant yes, angry yes, but not afraid.

She turned away from him, her hands on the windowsill seeming to support all her slight weight. He was afraid when she learned the truth she would no longer be able to stand on her own.

“Why would you be anything less than honest?” Her voice quivered while her shoulders trembled.

“Perhaps you should sit down first.” He turned to the pillows and bedding gracing the floor behind them. “Have something to eat, a sip or two of the fine wine I’ve procured for us. You should relax.”

“I’m not hungry or thirsty. I don’t want to relax.” She moved to look at the pillows then him. “I’ll stand, thank you.”



KEYWORDS: Historical, Romance, Scottish, Highlands, Bad Boys, Regency


























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He's a bad bad boy... Alison Fletcher never expected to find herself kidnapped and sold to a whorehouse then bought by a Turkish sultan to become his slave. She vows to never surrender to the arrogant man. Unexpectedly, she finds Arie the lesser of all the evils. Arie Demir has never been denied anything in his life...but is she pleasing him?