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Friday, August 19, 2016

Blog Tour + #Giveaway: Russian Tattoos: Prisoner by Kat Shehata @KatShehata @XpressoTours


Russian Tattoos: Prisoner
Kat Shehata
(Russian Tattoos, #2)
Published by: Limitless Publishing
Publication date: August 2nd 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense



American tennis player Carter Cook is being held prisoner by the Russian mafia…

Carter is the obsession of mob boss Vladimir Ivanov, a man she once loved. Now a mafia war has erupted on his home turf, and Vladimir’s enemies have put a bounty on her head to force him to surrender. If she is captured, his rivals will deliver a deadly ultimatum—his life in exchange for hers. The price for Carter’s freedom is Vladimir’s blood.

Vladimir holds ultimate power as godfather of the Ivanov Bratva…

He spent five years in a Siberian prison camp and has earned every tattoo inked into his skin. He is a powerful man who rules his crew with an iron fist.

But his enemies have discovered his only weakness—Carter. Vladimir knows if she stays in his world, he is handing her a death sentence, so he vows to get her home and never interfere in her life again. Giving up the woman he loves is the only way to protect her from the bad guys—including himself.

Vladimir’s rivals have a different plan for the ill-fated couple…

Some punishments are worse than death, and the head of the Ovechkin Bratva will go to any length to seek vengeance and inflict maximum suffering on Vladimir.

Carter may be Vladimir’s weakness, but she is also his only hope for survival. When the boss of the Ovechkin family threatens the man she loves, she must fight for Vladimir’s freedom before their rivals can deliver the fatal blow.

Love is blind—but it could also be deadly.


Sequel to:


Excerpt:
Vladimir had a talent for collecting all my faults, wadding them up into a ball, and using the negative energy to magnify my good qualities. Even after I found out about his involvement in the mafia, I still loved Vladimir. I wished I could erase the bad parts of our relationship, leaving only the passion and love we shared.
He ran his fingers through my hair, tucked my head in the crook of his neck, and rubbed warm circles on my back. I instinctively molded into the contours of his body and inhaled his earthy aroma. His heavenly cologne no longer mingled with his masculine scent, but I recognized his essence and a rush of memories of our intimate moments washed over me.
I unfastened the buttons on his flannel shirt and snuck my hand inside to touch his skin. I traced the outline of the devil tattoo on his chest with my fingernail. I couldn’t see his inky blue face, but I knew he was there. Vladimir’s body tensed from my touch. He whispered my name, chastising my decision to cross the line, but his hand moved to my ass and I knew he didn’t want me to stop. A loud crack of thunder rattled the window. Startled, I jumped.
Vladimir picked me up, carried me to the tiny bed, and laid on top of me. Feeling the weight of his body pressing down on me and the way he was kissing me with so much passion, I felt like the bed might crash through the floor and drop us in the living room.

His beard scratched against my skin, and the deeper his kiss, the rougher it felt—but in a good way. I groaned out his name and snaked my fingers up his shirt, squeezing and rubbing his muscular back. I’d been paralyzed by fear and loneliness since my capture, but right or wrong, I felt safe and loved in Vladimir’s arms. 


Author Bio:
Kat Shehata’s first career involved caring for exotic, dangerous, and adorable animals as a zookeeper. As an author, Kat weaves her love of animals into her work. She is the co-author of the New York Times bestselling children’s book Animals on the Other Side written with Sylvia Browne. 
She is an avid tennis player and spends her free time playing matches in a recreational league in Cincinnati, Ohio. She holds a bachelor’s degree in theatre from Wilmington College, a professional writing certificate from the University of Cincinnati, and a master’s degree in creative writing from Spalding University. 

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Book Tour + #Giveaway: The Mixtape Manifesto by SW Hammond @SWHammond @JaidisShaw

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Title:   The Mixtape Manifesto: A Pop Culture Confessional
Author:   SW Hammond
Published:  August 23rd, 2016
Publisher:   Surf Star Media
Genre:   Non-fiction / essay / relationships
Recommended Age:  16+

Synopsis:

A compilation of articles spanning more than a decade woven together to create the misguided anti-love story of a young man learning about relationships and the opposite sex through music, movies, and television.

From music industry professional, SW Hammond, comes The Mixtape Manifesto: A Pop Culture Confessional, a collection of provocative short stories on his life as a Lost Boy in search of Winnie Cooper.

Raised on rock n’ roll, Hammond blends an unparalleled view of pop culture and philosophy that follows him from his early twenties through his early thirties. The Mixtape Manifesto is filled with rich photography that captures Hammond’s days as a tour manager on Warped Tour and working for Sony Music Entertainment, as well as bringing to life the music, movies, and television that has plagued his rational sense of love and relationships. From childhood viewings of Full House leading to his lifelong hatred of John Stamos, his introduction to the Riot Grrrl movement and Kathleen Hanna, and to a questionable infatuation with The OC’s Summer Roberts—each story blends a reflective Kevin Arnold-like inner monolog with Wild Turkey.

The Mixtape Manifesto is the byproduct of one too many romantic comedies. Inspiration, enlightenment, and delusion fuel Hammond’s quest as he searches for a bit of meaning to life and someone to share it with.

Amazon | GoodReads | SW Hammond Store | Apple iBooksKobo

Excerpt from The Mixtape Manifesto 

by SW Hammond:

The Blunder Years

Whatever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV? Casual drives over the Golden Gate Bridge and neon windbreakers to protect us from that brisk Bay Area sea breeze? Back when times were simpler and the world had three fathers—and by no means am I referring to the Holy Trinity. I’m talking Danny, Jesse, and Joey. All were miserable failures with personality dysfunctions, but somehow were able to pull themselves together to raise America’s favorite girls. What this country’s fascination is with “three men and a baby” is beyond me.

Aside from the horrible acting and Afterschool Special “the moral of the story is” writing style, Full House was mashed potatoes and gravy to my generation. When the theme song kicked on, you felt good because “everywhere you look there’s a heart and a hand to hold on to.” I always acted as if I was bored while I watched the show, though; even at an early age, I was aware that it wasn’t socially acceptable for a dude to like chick flicks. And that’s what Full House was—a weekly soap opera for young girls.

I watched habitually, though, especially once Rebecca became a regular. I’m not afraid to say it: Lori Loughlin was hot. She still is. In 1989, I didn’t even really know what hot was, but whatever Rebecca was, I liked it. And so began my lifelong hatred for John Stamos. The guy makes me sick. He’s too fucking cool. His gelled-up hair, scruffy metro shave (before the world even knew what metro was), black Italian boots, a rock n’ roll attitude but with a sensitive and understanding side… What a prick. Moreover, he was briefly married to a supermodel. Still, Romjin aside, the only Rebecca that really mattered to me was the one on Full House.

I remember sizing up Stamos on every episode. I’d sit there and scowl at the TV as I’d watch his performance. The majority of my Full House viewing was around the age of 10, so looking back, that must have been quite the sight. Back then, I didn’t know what it was, and I couldn’t clearly put my feelings into words, but I certainly knew that Uncle Jesse was a pretentious asshole. The Elvis impersonations are eventually what did me in. One too many “Teddy Bears” made Rebecca’s love for Jesse unforgivable and I eventually had to move on. I learned early on that chasing after women who were attracted to Jesses was fruitless. I’d never be that guy.

I tried to seek solace in DJ, but she just didn’t have what made me tick. Kimmy was way too easy, so I figured I’d give Steph a shot and maybe try someone my own age. I appreciated her wit and subtle vulnerability, but the fact she shared a roof with Stamos was a deal breaker. I finally had to part ways with the San Francisco family and I found myself becoming best friends with Kevin Arnold. His lifestyle was much easier to swallow than three misfit dads living in the gay capitol of the world. He rode his bike, played football with Paul, thought way too deeply about the world around him, and had a crush on Winnie Cooper—the single greatest young female character up to that point in television history.

Kevin and I got along great, primarily due to our strikingly similar inner monologue. Yes, that’s what it sounds like in my head all day. Winnie was off-limits, however. I admired her from afar, but the show taught me trust and loyalty, one of the lessons that always seemed laughable coming from Jesse’s mouth. Winnie was everything a 12-year-old boy could ask for. She had her own set of wheels, enjoyed milk shakes, and was never afraid to make the first move. In the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t sound too bad to someone in their mid-twenties.

Kevin was my boy though, even through their on-again off-again late adolescence. We shared a comradely, an understanding of sorts. Kevin always ultimately did the right thing, learning life lessons along the way. I took notes and mentally never had an affair with his girl. That’s how it all went down until the final episode.

That night, I turned on my TV, half-depressed. I was anxious to see the big finale, but I felt like my childhood was ending just as Kevin’s was. The suspense ate me alive as I slurped from my juice box. The show ended by flashing forward to present day. Winnie got off a plane from studying art in Paris only to be greeted by Kevin, his wife, and new son. Those fuckers. I dropped my fruit-flavored beverage and let it seep deep into my favorite childhood blanket.

From that moment on, it’s been nothing but Guns n’ Roses, cheap strippers, Wild Turkey, and an immense Winnie Cooper void I’ve never been able to fill. Rebeccas are a dime a dozen, just like the Jesses they date. But not Winnie Cooper. Only a Winnie can make you… melt.


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About the Author:
SW Hammond, short for Sean William, is the author of The Mixtape Manifesto: A Pop Culture Confessional and The Final Book fictional series. He is also a freelance writer contributing to countless music zines, athletic, lifestyle, and technical magazines and websites across the world.

SW’s writing style, particularly within his commentary, is often compared to Chuck Klosterman-esq with countless references to pop culture, especially music. His brazen and honest approach creates camaraderie with the reader, then tests the boundaries with sensitive subject matter. Philosophy, ethics, and nobility square off against a materialistic society driven by instant gratification, with Hammond treading water directly in the middle.

His fictional writing makes a conscious effort to blend perception, rumor, and fact leaving the reader to question reality. His stories often taking place in historical settings or playing on modern headlines, Hammond uses common themes to drive home critical points about the human condition. Though often grand, epic, and futurist, the backbone of his novels hinge on honor and virtue, or lack thereof.

Hammond has a very unique background as a music and sports industry professional. He has worked for Major League Baseball as a Marketing Coordinator, was an Assistant of Arizona Operations in the Kansas City Royals farm system, and a Stadium Manager of the Los Angeles Angels Spring Training facility. He is also credited as a Marketing Representative for Sony Music Entertainment, a Senior Tour Manager for the Vans Warped Tour, and an intern at WAR Records / United Interests Management.

SW was born just outside of Denver, CO and hasn’t stopped moving since. Aside from Colorado, growing up Hammond also lived in Maine, California, Utah, and Hawaii. As an adult he returned to Colorado and Utah, also adding Arizona and Nevada to the list. He currently resides in Las Vegas. Hammond has never been married and has no children.


Giveaway:

There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:

  • A $25 Amazon gift card & ecopy of Mixtape Manifesto
  • 5 ecopies of Mixtape Manifesto
Giveaway is International.


Ends August 31st, 2016 at 11:59 PM EDT 




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Book Blitz + #Giveaway: Shadow Born by Jasmine Walt & Rebecca Hamilton @InkMuse @jasmine_writes @XpressoTours


Shadow Born
Jasmine Walt & Rebecca Hamilton
(Shadows of Salem #1)
Publication date: August 16th 2016
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy



Chicago Police Detective Brooke Chandler is keeping a secret… and if she’s not careful, it could get her killed.


Brooke is no stranger to the supernatural. In Chicago, vampires are just as prevalent as drug lords, and infinitely more bloodthirsty. So when her partner and fiancé dies in a mysterious fire while chasing down a lead in Salem, she suspects something dark and otherworldly is at play.

Blessed with the ability to see into the past by touching inanimate objects, Brooke transfers to the Salem PD, hoping her talent will help her get to the bottom of things. Between dodging assassination attempts and being stonewalled at every turn, the going is tough. Add in a mysterious fae club owner with secrets of his own and a personal grudge against her, and it becomes nearly impossible.

If Brooke wants to play in the supernatural sandbox, she’s going to have to roll up her sleeves and get dirty. But how many people will have to die for Brooke to discover the truth about her fiance? And is she even ready to know?

Find out what lurks in the SHADOWS OF SALEM by pre-ordering SHADOW BORN, the latest Urban Fantasy hit readers are comparing to Karen Marie Moning and Patricia Briggs.



EXCERPT:

“They’re conniving, manipulative, and take things that don’t belong to them.” Maddock hissed, then shoved to his feet. “Such as the fae that have been going missing recently.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” I muttered, eyeing him warily. He was glaring at me, as if this were somehow my fault. “But how do you know it’s the witches doing this? A symbol on a wall isn’t what I call concrete evidence.”
Maddock crossed his arms and glared down at me, making my heart jump into my throat. “So yer defending them now? Somehow I’m not surprised.”
His sarcastic tone was so accusatory that his behavior suddenly made sense. All the animosity, the condemning glares…

“You think I’m a witch, don’t you?” I jabbed a finger at him. “That’s why you don’t like me, and why you always look at me like I’m a piece of shit stuck to your shoe.”
“I dinnae know what ye are,” Maddock growled, clamping his hand around my forearm. “Aside from a heaping of trouble. But right now, I need ye, which is why I’m tolerating yer presence in this city. Now let’s get going already. I’ve something to show ye.”



Author Bio:
Rebecca Hamilton writes Paranormal Fantasy, Horror, and Literary Fiction. She lives in Florida with her husband and four kids, along with multiple writing personalities that range from morbid to literary. Having a child diagnosed with autism has inspired her to illuminate the world through the eyes of characters who see things differently.
Rebecca Hamilton is represented by the ever-more-amazing Rossano Trentin of TZLA. 
Author links:
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

Jasmine Walt: I'm obsessed with books, chocolate, and sharp, pointy objects. Somehow, those three things melded together in my head and transformed into a desire to write. Usually fantastical stuff, with a healthy dose of action and romance. My characters are a little (okay, a lot) on the snarky side, and they swear, but they mean well. Even the villains sometimes. 
When I'm not working on my next book, you can find me working on my dao sword form, spending time with my family, or binge-watching superhero shows on Netflix. I love to hear from my readers, so if you've got a question or just want to say hi, feel free to contact me via my website at www.jasminewalt.com. 
Author links:
Website / Facebook / Twitter


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Book Blitz + #Giveaway: Extracted by Sherry D. Ficklin & Tyler Jolley @AuthorSherry @DocJolley @XpressoTours


Extracted
Sherry D. Ficklin & Tyler Jolley
Published by: Clean Teen Publishing
Publication date: August 15th 2016
Genres: Steampunk, Young Adult



Two opposing factions of time travelers vie for control of the future in this thrilling steampunk series opener dubbed “Interesting” and “Unexpected” by Kirkus Reviews.

Lex and Ember—two time travelers with no memories of their lives before being recruited into the time war—are torn between the factions. When Lex accepts a mission that lands him deep within the heart of the Telsa Institute, he meets Ember, and the past that was stolen from them comes flooding back. Now armed with the truth of who they were, Lex and Ember must work together to save the future before the battle for time destroys them once again.



EXCERPT:

My breath comes in short, shallow bursts. I can feel the warmth of Ethan’s body radiating like a tuning fork against my back. In front of me, there is only darkness. I strain, listening, waiting for the next wave of attack. The leather straps holding up my suede harness dig into the skin of my shoulders, but the ache only sharpens my focus. The urge to turn around is strong, though I know better. Months of training have taught me exactly what happens when I turn my back to the darkness. So I listen, honing my senses until I catch the sound of Ethan taking a small step forward, away from me. My eyes are useless, so I close them. Knowing my attackers are well paid for their ability to move in silence, there is little hope that they will give themselves away. We need another strategy. As if reading my mind, Ethan picks up the conversation we were having earlier.
“All I’m saying is, maybe you need the extra practice,” Ethan says, his tone mocking. Even without being able to see him, I can sense him moving, beginning to circle counterclockwise. I know he’s trying to draw them out, to bring the fight to him. It seems like a sound strategy, so I jump on board.
“Oh, yes, because it isn’t like she turned around and kicked the crap out of you, too.” I’m mimicking his movements now. My voice is flat, free from emotion, and my words are empty. I can’t see him moving, but I can feel him, as if we’re connected by a million invisible threads.
“How am I supposed to just punch a girl?” Ethan asks. “And I was tired from taking the guy out like five seconds earlier.”
“She isn’t a girl. She’s more like a pissed-off kangaroo in a top hat. She has a nasty right hook, I’ll give you that.”
I hear the sharp whip of air as a bamboo pole cuts through the darkness, headed toward my face. Even with our phony argument going on, I’m able to hear it coming before it lands. I bring up my hands and block the blow with my forearms. The impact stings, bruising the bones there, but better my arms than my face. With a movement perfected after one too many blows to the head, I grab the pole and pull it aside, dragging my attacker with it. As he closes in, I drop the pole and lock arms with Ethan. I flip over his back and kick out, knocking my attacker to the mat. As he struggles back to his feet, Ethan spins into my place, delivering a secondary kick that sends the man flying into the wall with a dull thud. “Yeah, but she’s scrappy,” he says.
“Scrappy? Is that boy code for you couldn’t stop staring at her rack?”
Behind me, I feel Ethan duck a blow, and then land one of his own before pressing his back against mine. “I… that’s not… I didn’t even… I mean…” he sputters.
I smirk. Busted.
Footsteps approach, but we keep sparring. I bend over, using my attacker’s own momentum against him as I put my shoulder into his gut and stand, propelling him over my head and onto his back on the mat. I don’t need to see my victory to realize what the maneuver has cost me. A muscle in my lower back seizes, and it’s all I can do not to drop to my knees in agony. I clench my fists until I feel my fingernails cut bloody crescents in my palms. There is no way I’m going to be the weak link—no way I’m going to let Ethan fight alone. Back to back, that’s how Rifters are trained to fight. And Ethan always has my back.
“Don’t feel too bad. She was pretty scrappy after all.”
Ethan mumbles, “It’s a girl thing.”
“Hold up, what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, stiffly regaining my footing as my back screams in protest.
As usual, Ethan turns to check on me. “Nothing personal, Ember.”
Not wanting him to get slammed for it again, I grab him by the shoulder and pull, revolving us to our starting positions just as the first attacker flips back onto his feet and lunges. He would have taken me in the stomach, but I bring up my knee just in time to block his advance before kicking him in the face. There is a loud crunch that sounds like breaking bone. I hear him hit the mat with a groan. The lights flick back on, and Mistress Catherine blows her whistle.
Normally we spar with off-duty guards, since most of them have military training of some kind. They know how to take a hit and how to deliver one without doing too much damage. We might be lowly recruits, but Rifters are rare, and our lives are precious.
But as the man whose nose I have just broken pulls off his black ski mask, my heart falls into my shoes. Flynn is staring up at me, and his face is covered in blood.
“Nice hit, Ember,” he says as blood drips from his nose and onto his white shirt. Mistress Catherine hands him his horn-rimmed glasses and shoots me an amused smirk. Behind me, Ethan snickers.
Great. And here I was thinking this day couldn’t get any worse.
Reaching down, I offer Flynn a hand up, which he accepts with a smile.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, but he waves it off.
“Catherine told me you were really coming along. I wanted to see for myself.”
The others are shuffling out, so I turn to grab a towel and follow them, but Mistress Catherine closes the door behind a worried-looking Ethan, presses her back against it, and narrows her eyes at me. I used to think it was hard to look menacing in a knee-length pencil skirt and beige brocade top, but she radiates power. It might be the stern pucker of her thin lips, or the way her graying hair is knotted tightly at the nape of her neck. She resembles a librarian except for the long, jagged scar that runs from her left temple to the cleft in her chin. Well, that and the spider-shaped, iron shoulder harness permanently affixed to her upper arm.
Not sure what’s going on, I freeze, yellow towel in hand. Before I can say anything, I feel something moving behind me. I manage to move to the side just as a wooden staff comes slamming down against the spot where I’d stood a heartbeat earlier. I turn and see Flynn grinning, blood still dripping off his chin. He spits before whirling the staff like a windmill in front of him. “What I don’t understand,” he says, circling to my left, “is how that Hollow got the best of you. According to Ethan’s report, Kara had no problem with her. And Catherine here tells me that you mat Kara at almost every practice now.”
I have no idea what to say. Does he think I let her beat up on me? Just then, my legs are swept out from under me. I fall to the mat, but, rolling swiftly backward, I bounce up onto my feet. Catherine has a staff, too, and comes toward me from the right. I hold up my hands and back up slowly. In the corner of the room, a vent erupts in a cloud of steam, and Tesla’s image appears but says nothing.
“Look, I didn’t let her get away,” I say. “If that’s what you’re implying. She was strong. And fast.”
Catherine shakes her head. “You are strong. And fast. And clever.”
“I’m sorry!” I blurt out when my back hits the corner and they are still coming at me.
I don’t think Flynn would ever hurt me, not really, but Catherine, well…
Without another word, they both attack. I manage to duck one blow but take another in the ribs before I decide to make a break for it. Jumping as high as possible, I’m able to get a hand on the chain attaching one of the punching bags to the ceiling and hoist myself up. I leap over Flynn and roll as I hit the ground behind him. They’re quick, though, and have me surrounded again in seconds.
It’s easy to forget that they are trained Rifters, too. Catherine doesn’t rift anymore, but Flynn is still active and in really good shape. They aren’t holding anything back either. Flynn lands a blow to my lower back, but when Catherine moves in, I’m able to grab her staff and force it from her bad arm. Suddenly, time is moving in a blur. I’m not thinking about my next move anymore. My body is reacting of its own accord. I’m not sure how it happens, but I blink and Catherine is on her knees. Flynn is standing in front of me, and I have the two staffs crossed at his neck. He’s holding up his hands and saying my name.
I drop the sticks and step back. The muscles in my arms and legs are twitching like I’ve just run ten miles.
“That’s what we mean,” Catherine says, climbing stiffly to her feet. “You could have taken the Hollow girl. So, why did you hesitate?”
I close my eyes, calling the fight to the front of my memory. There was something about the girl. She was beautiful, for sure, but that wasn’t it. There was something else, too. Something I can’t put into words. I look up to find they’re staring at me, waiting for some kind of answer. I can feel Tesla glaring holes into my back, watching me like one of his little science experiments. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Flynn sighs and holds his hands out to me. I take them without hesitation. “Ember, I know it’s hard. I know you don’t like hurting people. It’s against your very nature to harm someone or let someone suffer. But you are too important to risk losing. Understand? Sometimes, you have to put someone down, let someone get hurt or even die, to save yourself and your team. You can’t hold anything back.”
I take a deep breath. “And what if someone dies because of me? Because, for some reason, my life is worth more than theirs?”
Flynn lowers his head, looking me in the eye. “That is a burden you will have to learn to carry.”



Author Bio:
Sherry D. Ficklin is a full time writer from Colorado where she lives with her husband, four kids, two dogs, and a fluctuating number of chickens and house guests. A former military brat, she loves to travel and meet new people. She can often be found browsing her local bookstore with a large white hot chocolate in one hand and a towering stack of books in the other. That is, unless she’s on deadline at which time she, like the Loch Ness monster, is only seen in blurry photographs.

Author links:
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter
--
Tyler H. Jolley is a sci-fi/fantasy author and full-time orthodontist, periodontist (see: Overachiever). He divides his spare time between writing, reading, mountain biking, and camping with his family.

Author links:
Website / Facebook / Twitter


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Book Blitz + #Giveaway: The Templars Falter by Holly Blackstone @HollyBlackstone @XpressoTours


The Templars Falter
Holly Blackstone
(The Void Chronicles, #3)
Publication date: July 23rd 2016
Genres: Erotica, Fantasy



Julianna Foss, full fledged Templar, finds herself in an impossible situation.

The High Templar and Julianna’s lover, Tristan, seemed about to commit himself to their relationship when he became entranced with Iris, the lone survivor of the attack on Hayden’s Gate. The thrall he and many of the other Templars are under is unnatural and Julianna is at a loss as to how to break the spell until Prior Basil asks for her help. It seems that Tristan and his lieutenant Tor have taken deathly ill, and the High Templar’s death would practically assure the Void dragon Dryx succeeds in enslaving the land.

She is forced to confront Lucas, the captured necromancer, and ask his assistance in understanding the source of Iris’ power – but it will come at a price, as Lucas grows increasingly possessive and entranced by Julianna, the first female Templar in hundreds of years.

Julianna succeeds in destroying Iris, but in some ways it is a Pyrrhic victory. Iris really is Reena, sister to the head necromancer Vaux, and that means Julianna has a price on her head. Vaux is ruthless and bloodthirsty, and will stop at nothing to avenge the death of his little sister.

So begins a chain of events that leaves Julianna on the outside once more, confused by her attraction to Lucas, who should be her enemy, and her wounded love for the Tristan. She is further alienated by the secrets she carries, and the terrible knowledge that has been revealed to her about VoidCleaver, the godsword she wields. Basil and Tristan are convinced that she is the Deorwyn, a woman prophecy claimed would help rid the world of Dryx, but she chafes under this new expectation

Julianna is stressed beyond endurance – she carries the fate of the world on her shoulders, will it prove to be too much for her?

*Contains explicit depictions of warfare and sex and is intended for adults.



EXCERPT:

Julianna threads her way through the corridors until she stands in front of a large door. The sentries look at her a moment, then at one another and open the portal for her and once she is inside, they close it.
Lucas is kneeling near the centre of the cage, his hands and arms bound together, his body bare except for the cloth that covers his sex. I am sure he has hidden his clothes somewhere handy for future use, she thinks as she scans the room briefly before resting her gaze on him.
“Ser Foss”, he says coolly, but his eyes betray the lust he is trying to contain.
“Lucas”, she answers and squats down, pushing her scabbard out of the way.
They stare at each other a moment and then he stands, forcing her to stand once more.
“Are we playing a game, Lucas?”
“I know why you are here.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I believe I do. The High Templar is ill, and you want my help restoring your former lover to his old glory.”
She sighs, and rubs the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I don’t know what the future has in store for any of us, Lucas, but I know he has been afflicted by something horrible, and I believe he will die – and soon – if nothing is done.”
“I have no reason to help him.”
Julianna quickly erects a ward to ensure privacy. “Do you have any reason to help me?”
“To aid you in this defeats my purpose, my desires. You KNOW this, Julianna.” He looks at her hotly.
“Why are you still here? You could have left last night; I’m sure those clothes are secreted away somewhere.”
“My reasons for remaining are my own.”
“Lucas – I just want to know if my thinking is sound; is it so much to ask that you help me with that?”
“You know what you ask of me!”
“What do you want from me, Lucas? Do you think that allowing him to die will endear you to me? I defended you to the Prior and Calix; we all know Iris is behind this but lack proof. I can take care of her but I want to know what she used on Tristan and Tor; what can we do to unmake that sorcery?”
“I will extract payment from you for this. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Lucas.” She doesn’t hesitate, despite the ominous tone to his voice.
“There is only one thing that can cure their illness – a life.”
“What?” Julianna blanches.
“The magic is strong in their bodies – too potent for most people to combat; only perhaps a few might have a chance, myself included. The quickest and swiftest way to stop the illness from progressing is to end the life of the one who begat it; the sorcery is tied to her power and life force.”
“Iris’ life is forfeit then – so be it.”

“You do not realise what you will unleash once you kill her; it will pave the way for other… difficulties, other challenges. Her death will not go un-avenged; it may be – will be – a terrible price to pay.”
“If Tristan dies the Order will falter; there is no choice to be made. Whatever happens in the future we will deal with it then.”
“I warn you again – the cost may be great.” Lucas’ brow furrows. “I can feel Fate move beneath our feet. Julianna! I…”, he shakes his head. “I do not advise it.”

“I take that responsibility.” As she says it, Lucas’ shoulders slump and Julianna feels as if something has passed in front of her.
“I will pray to the gods for you, for mercy. Go then, hatch your plan”, Lucas says and walks towards the bars of the cage. “As for you, love – I will see you again very, very soon.” He casts one more hungry look at her before turning and walking to the far side of his enclosure. Julianna stares at his muscular back for a moment, watches him breathe, and then removes the ward and stalks from the room.


Author Bio:
Holly was born in New Jersey and moved to the Pacific Northwest at the age of eighteen. She's always loved writing and expressing herself and scrupulously kept a journal at a young age. She started her first book around the age of eight, although she never completed it, and in high school was co-editor of her school's literary magazine. She enjoys blogging, reading, and writing poetry and novels. Although an American, Holly is fascinated with British and Scottish history and culture; this interest is reflected in her choice to often use British spellings for words because she likes them better. 
Holly likes exploring how a character's personality changes and adapts as they are introduced to new experiences that are challenging. She also enjoys creating worlds and tales that are deep and complex and are driven by a solid story, yet have intense erotic elements. 

Much to her chagrin, Holly has many interests and has a hard time keeping up with them all. She enjoys cooking and has made wine with friends; she likes gardening, drawing, reading, video and board games, dancing, eighties music and yoga, to name a few of her more regular preoccupations. 

She welcomes comments and questions at her website: http://www.hollyblackstone.com 


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