Thursday, July 14, 2016

creepyfair
Series: FaeTAL Series
Author: Becca Moree
Release Date: July 16th, 2016
Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00007]

blurb
Brett sold his soul to the devil. Only hell isn’t a fiery pit in the bowels of the earth. Hell is the Carnival of Darkness where the freak shows are real, the screams never end, and the girl of his dreams has become a part of his nightmare. Charlee has been kidnapped by the freaks that run The Carnival of Darkness. If that weren’t bad enough, she’s harboring a secret that will put her life in even more danger should her captors find out. Now, she has a decision to make – keep her head down and wait on someone to save her, or fight to escape and get back to the ones she left behind. Brett wants to trust Charlee with the reason he is working at the carnival, but she still has reservations about his intentions. Charlee doesn’t trust anyone, but Brett may be her only hope.

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July 16th from 2pm-10pm EDT

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excerpt
Brett Being surrounded by this demented fucking shit twenty-four, seven is really starting to get to me. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a good Halloween party or carnival as much as any other good ol’ southern boy. Problem is, this one never ends. These sick fucks actually seem to get off on it all. I swear on my daddy’s grave, if these people knew what all went on behind the scenes at their beloved Carnival of Darkness, they might think twice about handing over their hard earned cash. Shit! Just thinking about all the sick things I’ve seen in the last six months makes my damn stomach turn. I’d surely be happier than a pig in shit if I could get the hell out of here. But that ain’t in the game plan just yet. Wish I had never accepted this god-forsaken job. I owe Mac my damn life, so when the man says jump, I don’t even ask how high until I’m already in the fucking air. For now, I have to keep up appearances and keep acting my part. I run the menagerie. It’s my job to care for the animals used around the C.O.D. Lucky me, I also get to put on a little show once a night. You just gotta love being ogled by a shit ton of freaks while riding a horse and lassoing a hot chick who is wearing very little in the clothing department. Not to mention that same chick just happens to be running from a knife-wielding, creepy ass, blood-covered clown. I get no damn satisfaction in roping some helpless woman so that the clown can catch her. Hell, each and every night my need to take that fucking knife from the clown and give him the fight of his life grows harder and harder to resist. If it was all an act, maybe I could look the other way a bit easier. Unfortunately, I know that it’s not. I know that each and every night the girl gets kicked, dragged around, and stabbed, and not a single fucking second of it is fake. Her screams of pain and her fear-filled eyes are one hundred percent real. They fill my dreams, turning them into nightmares I can never escape.

about 2

Becca Moree is an adult romance author who lives in middle-of-no-where, South Carolina with her amazing hubs, her two adorable little girls as well as enough adorable fur and feather babies to qualify as a mini-farm. When asked about all of the animals she rescues, is given, or manages to bring home her hubs just laughed and said “I basically fund her having a zoo at this point. I’ve gotten used to it. I’m waiting on the day I come home to a potbelly pig and 2 rabbits that someone “gave” her…” An ex-elementary school teacher, Becca is now a stay at home mom to her two rambunctious little girls. When she isn’t chasing them around or writing she is working on her custom sewing and embroidery business. (Or reading…reading is a slight obsession!) Becca describes herself as a kid in an adult’s body. She loves games of all types but is a massive computer/console gamer chick. Her favorite movies tend to be of the Disney/Pixar variety, even before her girls were old enough to use as excuses. She is a Trekkie at heart and not afraid to let her dork flag fly high. Becca has been writing since high-school. Most of her stories start as either a strange dream that refuses to stop repeating until she sits down and storyboards or a random conversation that would get most people committed. She openly admits that when it comes to her stories, while she does outline and use character development sheets, often the story takes off on a completely different path than she planned. She is an absolute passenger to her stories and typically just sits back and enjoys the ride as they tell her their stories.




Come get Wrecked with Stone and Willow in this second chance Rock Star Romance!



Stoned is NOW LIVE!









Blurb



“A rock star with no rhythm is a man with no soul.” – Stone Lockhart



As the lead singer of one of the hottest bands to hit the rock scene, fucks are free, drugs come easy, and music is life.

For as long as Stone can remember, Willow has been his music – the notes that weave his soul together.

His rhythm.

Until he threw her away.

All he has left is a handful of pills and a few lines of powder to make him forget her.

And he tries, over and over.



Clean and ready to make things right, he’s faced with the fact that Willow’s moved on. She’s not the same girl he cast aside. Willow’s a woman sure about her purpose in life. Sure about who she’s meant to love.

Stone may be lost without his rhythm, but Willow has found so much more.




Excerpt



Willow isn't a performer. She’s too honest and pure for that. She plays and sings with her heart. If she’s mad, she sings angry shit. Happy, she smiles throughout the whole damn song making you smile too. But I know the moment I hear the chords of “Over,” this set she’s working on is all me. She can’t see me in the corner here, but she sings for me nonetheless, and I feel every fucking word. Every last note as she pours her heart out. This is a Willow that was always reserved for me. She never wanted to be in the spotlight. We begged her to be in the band and not just help write the music, but she said no, over and over. But when it was just her and I, this was the Birdie I got. We would play for each other for hours, late into the night, sometimes it would lead to us fucking, and other times it was because we had just finished, our bodies sated, but our souls still full of passion and adrenaline. A naked Wills wearing nothing but a guitar is the most beautiful fucking sight in the world and just thinking about it now makes me hard.



“Stone? Babe? Wake up, I can’t sleep.” I can hear her but can’t make my eyes open to see her. The bed shifts and then dips. Willow straddling my lap has my eyes opening slowly, blinking the sleep away. I suck in a breath when I can finally focus. My beautiful Birdie is sitting astride me, completely naked except for her brand new custom Martin. Her fingers lovingly stroking over the fret board. “I wrote you a new song,” she whispers excitedly. Peering up at her, I can see the excitement on her face, the love in her whiskey-colored eyes. As she starts playing I shift. My bottom lip clamped between my teeth I gently tug the sheet lower down my legs inconspicuously. She begins singing and I feel a lightness wash over me. Her words like a balm on my now overly heated skin. Every time she opens her mouth, beauty pours from it, and I have the urge to fill her. Fill her any way that I can so that I can touch that music. Be her music the way she’s mine. Entranced, I watch as Willow falls into her zone, eyes closed, face intense in its peacefulness. As she hits the bridge, her voice raising an octave, I slip inside her. Pussy wet, always so wet when she gets like this, I thrust. Her eyes don’t open, but she softens, all of her relaxing into me. When I begin rocking back and forth, slowly, rhythmically in sync with the chords she plays, she falters for a beat. Gradually her eyes open, landing on mine just long enough for me to see all the love from moments ago turned to lust and a deep, needy want. She’s close. Thank fuck.

Careful to not bump the guitar, I slide my thumb to her clit and play her, same as she plays her Martin. Silently we make music together as her song envelopes us, breathier than before. I join in on the chorus, my raspy voice melding with hers as I fuck her, pushing us both over the edge.

Blissed out and with hands on her thighs, I smile wickedly, “Sing it for me again, Wills.”



I’m brought from my thoughts when Law elbows me. “Where’d you go, bro? You okay?” he whispers just as the song finishes and she takes a moment to sip from her mug. I’d bet money it was tea. She always drank tea to soothe her throat when she was serious about a session or we had a lot to work out in the studio.

“Yeah, man. Just thinking about Wills.” Shrugging sheepishly, I glance over at him before letting my gaze settle back on Willow. “I haven’t had to share her like this in forever, not even with you guys really. Not like this.” My voice is pitched low so that it doesn’t travel. “It’s fucking with my head a little. There’s never been a time that she wasn’t mine and that music wasn’t ours. Ya know?”





About the Author

Writer, wife, mom, student and avid reader.



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Title: Sociopath's Revenge
Series: Sociopath, Book Two
Author: V.F. Mason
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: July 26, 2016
Mine. 
She was mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Sapphire
The future finally started to brighten up for me. 
Memories of the past didn't belong in my life.
The nights held nightmares, but I learned to deal with them.
Until he showed up, once again shattering any peace I had.
Sociopath
In the hopes of destroying Sociopath, my enemies hurt and used my only weakness.
Sapphire.
My Sapphire. 
The time had come for my ultimate revenge, so those who wronged us would answer for every scar and pain they’d inflicted.
*Warning: It is necessary to read first Sociopath's Obsession, before starting Sociopath's Revenge.
Copyright @V.F. Mason
Prologue
Damian
Pain.
Agonizing pain burning through my body woke me up. My lungs immediately filled with the smoke surrounding me.
Fire.
Shaking the fogginess from my head, I tried to get up but my legs wouldn't move. No matter what I did, they didn't respond. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the haze around me, I spotted a huge piece of wood pinning my legs. I sat up and tried with all my strength to push it away, but it was useless.
Blood slowly dripped from my forehead to my cheeks and lips. My callused hands were covered in blisters. How could this happen?
Sapphire.
My eyes searched for her as the fire spread more rapidly. I saw her silky black hair lying across the bench. She appeared unconscious. The orange flames surrounding us moved dangerously closer, heading toward her body.
No!
"Sapphire." Her name came out as a hushed whimper. No matter how hard I tried to clear my throat, I couldn't speak any louder. After the accident five years ago, talking with more volume was a luxury I couldn't afford. How I wished to shout just then to make the woman I loved open her eyes so we could run with our little one.
Then the terrified scream filled the air, and my body froze in fear.
"Daddy!" Kristina cried out somewhere from my right. "Daddy, help me! He wants to take me away." She started crying and kept screaming my name. A man's laugh echoed in the warehouse, and the familiar sound of flesh being slapped created a burning rage inside me. My hands fisted and once again, with a loud cry, I pushed the wood, but it didn't budge.
He couldn't have her.
He wouldn't have her.
My little girl.
"See, boy? You can never win with me. Now your precious daughter will know what it's like to make me happy." Kristina whimpered, and in a second, I heard the door shut loudly, trapping us inside.
My child.
S had my child.
No!
"I'm sorry, baby girl," I whispered. "Daddy is so sorry."
No matter what I did, she'd have those nightmares for the rest of her life.
And unfortunately, I was powerless to stop them.
 

“All I can tell you is if you want a book that is going to crawl up into your skin and grab a hold of your soul this is it. Its brutal, its terrifying, its consuming and its one of the best (yes friends) love stories of two people I have EVER read.” - Reader Review
“I’ve read a lot of dark books, but I think this may be one of my absolute favorites I’ve read this year!!” - Alpha Book Club
V.F.Mason always loved reading books and had quite a few fights with her momma over the genre she liked (romance, duh!) She studied filmmaking and thought that would feed her desire for stories, but that didn't happen. Finally, when she was tired of all those voices in her head, she sat down and wrote a book. It was a huge decision to make and she thanks her friends and family for supporting her in it.When she is not writing, she can be found with her friends doing all sorts of crazy things or reading recent romance books that were written by her favorite authors.

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Title: Complexity
Series: A Kinky Connect Chronicles Novella
Author: Harper Miller
Genre: M/M Erotica Novella
Published: July 8, 2016
Fairy tale endings weren’t made for people like me. Happy for now usually ain’t in the cards, either. The dents on my wall from where my headboard kept knockin’ against the same spot was the first clue that I needed to calm my ass down. At the rate I was racking up notches and plowing through hookups, I wasn’t ever gonna find nothing real. Guess I kinda jinxed myself. I created my circumstances. You can’t get what you want if you keep falling back into the same pattern of bad habits. But then things changed. I stumbled onto somethin’ I never in a million years expected to happen. You gotta understand, I’m never the guy who wins. It was supposed to be just sex, but that shifty rhyming and scheming bastard, Cupid, pulled a fast one. I may have changed some stuff to protect a couple of people. But before you go believing the tabloids, make sure you understand that you’re gettin’ the lowdown straight from the source. I needed to get this off my chest, and it’s only fair that you at least get my side of it all. At some point, I might regret telling you any of this, but for now, you need to know. *Disclaimer* This is a novella. Not a short story, novelette, or novel. This tale features an M/M pairing. If gay erotica/erotic romance is not your cup of tea and you are offended by same-sex relationships or crass language, you should bypass this story. Content is intended for a mature audience, 18+. Complexity is the fourth installment in The Kinky Connect Chronicles. The Kinky Connect Chronicles are short erotic stories/novelettes all wrapped up in neat little bows. These stories are standalones. No cliffhangers in the lot!
 
© Harper Miller 2016
“Hey,” he says. The hoarse sound of his voice catches me off guard and a stabbing sensation seizes my chest. I know it’s all in my head, but it’s like rapid, tiny needle pricks all over my skin.
I’m a mess.
Has it only been a week since I’ve heard his voice? Hearing him now—just that one syllable—is painful relief. No matter what’s going through my head, right now I’ve gotta keep my shit together.
“Hey, yourself.”
“It’s good to hear your voice, Manny. You’ve been avoiding me.” Wasn’t a question, but a statement—a true statement.
“Yep,” I nonchalantly reply. “If you’re leaving messages and callin’ me ‘Emmanuel,’ then you must really wanna get my attention.”
He lets out a half chuckle. “I’ve been trying to get your attention all week. I’ve missed your company. Care to tell me why you’re shunning me?”
I avoid answering his question and ask one of my own instead. “Were you really gonna make a trip up here?”
Ever since this little thing between us started, I’ve always headed downtown to his place. He’s never come up here. Too many things could go wrong and make a bad situation epically worse. There are mild fuckups and things you can’t come back from. Me taking the trip downtown is a better bet.
“If you didn’t pick up your phone, yes. I’ve been calling and calling and calling. And would have pounded on your door all night. I’d do whatever needed to be done until you talked to me. It’s been a week, Manny. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
Avoiding his question again, I say, “That ain’t the smartest move, loco. You’re not exactly unrecognizable. The paparazzi would be up here with the quickness. Not to mention the cops. You don’t come up here making a crapload of noise and not expect the cops to get called.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It was a dumb idea, but I wasn’t thinking. You do that to me, you know—cause me to not think straight.”
“I see,” I respond with a low grunt. He always does that shit. Make comments about how I affect him. I quickly wonder if he’d been leavin’ me a trail of bread crumbs all this time. Hope slams against my rib cage. Does he have feelings for me too?
“Can I see you, Manny?” he asks, his voice that syrupy-sweet tone he uses when we’re in bed. The shit that sucker punches me right in the gut. And now I’m hot, but for an altogether different reason.
“What do you need to see me for? Armand not occupying enough of your time?” I was being a dick, but whateva.
“Ah, so now we’re getting somewhere. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me? Because of Armand?”
I remain silent.
“Manny?”
“What?” I can’t deal right now. Not with the way he says my name. . . .Manipulative bastard.
“Come see me. Let’s talk about it.”
“Nah. No need.” I’m acting like a pissy bitch, but I don’t care. “Got a client in the morning and have to be up early.”
“Fine, you won’t come here, then I’m coming to you.”
“Didn’t we just agree that that is a dumb idea? What the fuck are you doing?”
“You might not want to talk, Manny, but clearly some things need to be addressed. Avoiding the issue won’t make it go away. We need to straighten this out, now.”
“Mierda,” I mumble under my breath.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he says before hanging up, leaving me no time to talk him out of it.
I almost fling the phone across the room, but if I do, I won’t have shit to use once it’s broken. I bite down on my tongue to tamp back my anger, and I ain’t tasting whiskey no more.
He’s an idiot. An idiot for comin’ into my space. An idiot for putting himself out there like that. So what if I wouldn’t go to him? I had been tryna put some distance between us, but it only seemed to make shit more difficult for me, and there is only one explanation.
Love. I’m in love with a guy, and I’m so fuckin’ angry. Angry because I can’t do anything about it. I tried to fight it, and I mean hard, but the way I reacted to his voice and to him threatening to trek up to my apartment, risking shit just to talk to me, tells me all I need to know.
I am in love with Christopher.
 
Harper Miller is a thirty-something native New Yorker. She’s traveled the world and lived in a variety of places but always finds her way back to the Big Apple.

A lackluster love life leaves time to explore new interests, for Harper it is writing. The Sweetest Taboo: An Unconventional Romance is her debut novel. In her mind, the perfect Alpha male possesses intellect, humor, and a kinky streak that rivals the size of California.

When she isn’t writing, Harper utilizes her graduate degree in the field of medical research. She enjoys fitness-related activities, drinking copious amounts of wine and going on bad dates.
   
   
 
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