Pre-Order OF FLAME AND FATE by Cecy Robson Today!

"So much action, so much violence and, oh, the lust radiating off of our heroes . . . I definitely recommend this series for lovers of all things paranormal and awesome.”—USA Today

"[With Cecy Robson's] edgy, witty and modern style of storytelling, the reader will be drawn deep into this quirky paranormal world. . . . Strong pacing, constant action and distinctive, appealing characters--including a gutsy heroine--will no doubt keep you invested."—RT Book Reviews

Make sure to pre-order OF FLAME AND FATE and add to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Keep on scrolling for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card and three runners up will win a digital copy of book #1 in the series, OF FLAME AND LIGHT.

Title:  Of Flame and Fate

Author: Cecy Robson

Release Date: September 26, 2017

Publisher: Cecy Robson, LLC

Series: Weird Girls Flame #2

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Page Count: 422

Synopsis:

Taran Wird, who commands the power to wield fire and lightning, is an oddity in the supernatural world. But neither Taran nor her unique sisters compare to the bizarre entity known as Destiny. And Taran is assigned to protect her.

Born of two witches, Destiny is revered among the supernatural elite for her acute ability to predict the future. Her biggest prophecy involves Taran’s sister, Celia, whom Destiny decreed will bear children strong enough to take on the evil that’s rising. Yet Destiny is not alone in her predictions, or individuality.

When Johnny Fate, a rock star among humans and a male version of Destiny is discovered, his powers and Destiny’s clash, triggering the start of Destiny’s demise and altering the fate of Celia’s unborn children.

Taran, her werewolf lover Gemini, and their allies must determine if it’s Fate who will decide what will become of Celia’s children, or if their lives and the world will perish with Destiny.

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OF FLAME AND FATE Excerpt

Copyright © 2017 Cecy Robson

I’m shoved into a cold room where a band of bloodsucking fiends tear off my clothes. Their long nails graze my skin as their master watches, his cold gray eyes glinting with malice.

“Son of a bitch,” I say, smacking Edith Anne’s hand away when she cops a feel. “The demon’s in my leg, not my tit!”

There’s something you don’t say every day, but then that’s why humans are safe in the world and weird gals like me are stuck with demons burrowing under their skin.

“Just making sure,” Edith adds with a wink.

I’m ready to punch her in the face, except I’m too busy cringing at the thing crawling beneath the length of my shin, its spindly insectoid appendages stretching the skin as it curls up and over my knee cap.

“Get it out of me!” I screech, growing nauseous with each numbing tug it creates beneath the underlying tissue.

“We’re trying,” Agnes Concepcion snaps, like I’m somehow inconveniencing her by having an evil being claw its way through me.

Her tiny plaid skirt smacks against my hip as she shoves me into a massive glass and tile shower. Three other vamps, dressed like naughty Catholic schoolgirls (don’t get me started) follow us in, bottles of champagne tight in their grips.

“What the hell?” I ask, kicking as if I can somehow shake this thing loose, and certain the booze is to celebrate my grisly death.

Bottles of champagne open with a pop, the naughty Catholics pouring the bubbly over my breasts, back, and ass. This isn’t real. This is something out of a bad porno and somehow I’m the star.

But as the fluid reaches my thigh the lump with the creepy legs bounces, pulling at the muscle it’s crawling over, squirming to the left then right, trying find its way around the torrent of liquid they’re pelting me with.

“Don’t let it reach her heart,” Master Vampire Misha Aleksandr orders from the opposite side of the bathroom.

“What’s it going to do to my heart?” My head whips back and forth when none of the vamps answer. “It’s going eat my freaking heart isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agnes mutters, adjusting her tiny librarian glasses as she angles the bottle she’s holding.

“Okay . . .” I begin.

“It needs your heart to nest and lay its eggs,” she explains.

“What?”

“But yeah, then the hatchlings will munch on your heart like raw steak,” Edith adds. She reels me around when additional vamps swoop in with cases of wine, drenching my chest with more alcohol.

She seems to be having fun. I’m mostly trying not to hurl and wondering how the hell this happens to me.

Agnes is more focused. She drips the wine just above the demon, forcing it back down my leg. “Quiesco,” she says, her tone as sharp and commanding. “Quiesco.”

My body shudders as the demon scurries downward. Its movement doesn’t hurt, surprising since I think it has pinchers, but the yanking motion is unnerving, like getting stitches while under anesthesia. My head flops forward and my vision starts to swim.

“I don’t feel good,” I mumble.

Agnes slaps me, the sting of the strike causing my eyes to whip open. “Don’t fall asleep.” She slaps me again when my eyelids flutter and close. “Taran, the poison the demon is spewing is numbing your skin and making you drowsy, if you succumb to it the alcohol won’t work and the demon will take you.”

Again, her palm whips across my face. “Stay awake so we can cut this thing out of you.”

I slap her back, knocking her glasses askew. “I’m awake, damn it.”

She smirks because she hits harder and maybe because she likes it, too. She returns to my leg when the vamp behind her hands her another bottle of champagne. “Quiesco,” she whispers against my leg, her breath hot against my cooling skin.

My head falls forward as I start to go under. This time, Edith smacks me.

“God damn it,” I hiss, my right arm quaking and threatening to release my flame.

“I was just taking my turn,” she replies defensively.

Her gaze locks on my arm. She eases away as a spark of blue and white escapes from my fingertips, giving me and my power ample space as the surrounding vamps shower me with alcohol.

“Master,” Agnes says, ignoring us as she concentrates on my thigh. “It’s settling. I need the knife.”

“The wolves are bringing it,” he replies.

“The wolves?” I ask. Okay. Now I’m wide awake.

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About Cecy Robson

CECY ROBSON is an author of contemporary romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double RITA® 2016 finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, and a published author of more than eighteen titles, you can typically find her on her laptop writing her stories or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

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PENTHOUSE PLAYER by Tara Leigh Review & Excerpt Tour!

We are excited to share with you PENTHOUSE PLAYER, by debut author Tara Leigh. PENTHOUSE PLAYER is the first book in the Billionaire Bosses series, where the stakes are high and love burns hotter. Follow the tour for reviews and excerpts of this sizzling hot office romance. Plus enter to win a $25 Amazon gift card!

Title: Penthouse Player

Author: Tara Leigh

Release Date: September 5, 2017

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, SWERVE

Series: Billionaire Bosses #1

Genres: Romance

Word Count: 80K

Format: Digital

ISBN: 9781250138507

Synopsis:

Abandoned by her mother and spurned by her father, Reina St. James is tired of being treated like a dirty little secret. It wasn’t easy making her way into the high-risk, high-reward Wall Street world ruled by financial kings and trust fund tyrants. But now that she’s got a

stiletto-clad toe into one of the swankiest firms in Manhattan, Reina is determined to prove she’s more than just a pretty face hiding an ugly past.

For Tristan Xavier Bettencourt IV, escaping the shadow cast by generations of family fortune has been difficult, and success hasn’t come without sacrifice. Tristan has always put business before pleasure… Until Reina’s curved lips prove an invitation he can’t resist.

Walking away from their explosive night together won’t be easy, even if the heat between them might consume both of their careers. Will Reina and Tristan risk everything by betting on each other?

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PENTHOUSE PLAYER Excerpts

Copyright © 2017 Tara Leigh

Excerpt #1

My eyes skipped over a blonde in a red dress, and then quickly returned. I hadn’t realized I’d started walking towards her until a waiter nearly spilled my drink. She was gorgeous. And when she tipped her head back to laugh at something the man beside her said, I decided that word was entirely inadequate. Stunning was much more apt. Exquisitely stunning, actually. Her creamy skin was flawless. And she was tall. I looked down, or at least she appeared tall with the five-inch stilettos on her feet. When her open-mouthed laugh faded into a generous smile, her wide eyes met mine. If she’d been an investment, she would have been labeled high risk, high reward, with a warning—Don’t buy if you can’t afford to lose.

Her lips closed around the edge of the glass in her hands, our stare unbroken. Her eyes were the bright shade of freshly cut, well-tended grass. And after she took a sip, white wine by the looks of it, she didn’t look away. Her open appraisal was a lure, and I took the bait. She could have been a model on a billboard in Times Square, or in the GQ magazine I subscribed to but never had the time to read. I know I should’ve turned away. This girl was clearly trouble with capital T, something I needed as much as a hole in my head.

After doing well with the first fifty million I’d been able to raise, I was just about to open my fund up to new investors. I didn’t have any official commitments yet, but I had no doubt my fund was about to grow to at least $500 million. I had a lot to consider, and a ton of work to do. This was the most important time in my career and I couldn’t afford to fuck it up by becoming a lovesick fool over some girl, exquisitely stunning or not.

I stopped in my tracks, maybe ten feet away, although I couldn’t tear my eyes from her face. She was young. Maybe too young? But then she smiled again. And not just any smile. This one wasn’t polite, or friendly, or casual in any way. No, her smile was so bright it heated the drink in my hands and blinded me from seeing anyone else in the room. Her curved lips were an invitation I couldn’t resist. Even though I knew I should.

Excerpt #2

“Obviously, something needs to happen between us. Soon. Preferably tonight, actually.”

Endorphins ping-ponged through my body like the ball in an old-fashioned arcade game. I’d tried to deny the chemistry between us, then suggested we ignore it. But to hell with that. It just wasn’t possible. I found my voice. “Someplace with a bed, or a couch.” I shrugged. “At least a rug, maybe a table.”

Tristan chuckled, attempting to finger-comb his hair into place. “Last time I checked, my apartment had all four.”

“Good. We can’t be seen in public together. At least not outside of the office.”

“About that. Bettencourt has more than one hedge fund you can work on. I’ll set you up with another portfolio manager or have you assigned to marketing or research, whatever you want.”

I shook my head. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. “No. Please don’t. Your strategy is the one I feel most closely aligned with. I applied to Bettencourt, hoping I’d have the opportunity to work on the Millennial Fund. This doesn’t have to be an either/or situation.” Taking a breath, I debated whether or not I should even verbalize the thoughts racing through my mind. Spit it out, already. I forced words through my mouth in a rush. “Let’s just have sex tonight and get it out of our system. Then we can pretend it never happened and focus on work.”

An aristocratic eyebrow arched upwards. “You think that’s all going to take? One fuck and we won’t ever need to do it again?”

I grinned at Tristan’s outraged expression. He even wore indignation well. “Okay, fine. Maybe we’ll have to do it more than once. But I just started here, and I intend to come out on the other side of this internship with a job offer. And I want it because I’ve proved myself on the Bettencourt trading floor, not in you bedroom. No one can know about us.”

Tristan scowled. “Is there someone else? Maybe not a boyfriend, just a friends-with-benefits kind of thing? You seem pretty eager to keep us in the dark.”

It’s what I know. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Tristan tucked in his shirt, adjusted his sleeves. Skepticism darkened his eyes. “Casual sex, no strings attached. That’s what you want?”

“I’m not exactly the next Mrs. Bettencourt, Tristan. I highly doubt your socialite stepmother would approve of me.”

“Why?” Tristan seemed less than eager to take my words at face value. “Because you want to do more with your life than plan overpriced parties with bad food and watered-down drinks?”

I looked down, a blush coloring my cheeks. If he knew that even my own mother wouldn’t be seen in public with me, he would feel differently. “Something like that.”

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About Tara Leigh:

Tara Leigh attended Washington University in St. Louis and Columbia Business School in New York, and worked on Wall Street and Main Street before “retiring” to become a wife and mother. When the people in her head became just as real as the people in her life, she decided to put their stories on paper. Tara currently lives in Fairfield County, Connecticut with her husband, children and fur-baby, Pixie. 

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In a Colorado mountain town, a good girl kindergarten teacher propositions a sexy bad boy uncle of one of her students…It’s all part of ROMANCING THE WALLFLOWER by Michelle Major

About ROMANCING THE WALLFLOWER 

Dedicated kindergarten teacher Erin MacDonald isn't the type to make the first move on a man—especially gorgeous David McCay, her secret crush. But when a crisis involving one of her pupils offers a chance to help the pro baseballer turned local brewery owner, Erin goes way out of her comfort zone. So way out she makes a shocking suggestion!

David moved to the Colorado mountain town to look after his sister and her son. Now he's a stand-in parent to his nephew, trying to fight his attraction to Erin…who just propositioned him. David is nobody's hero. So why can't he convince the sweet, kindhearted beauty that she deserves better than him? Is it because they're the perfect imperfect match?

On Sale in Print: August 22, 2017

On Sale in Digital: September 1, 2017

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Excerpt:

“Stop staring at the hottie brewmaster’s butt.”

Erin MacDonald choked on the gulp of strawberry daiquiri she’d just swallowed. “I’m not staring at anyone’s butt,” she said as she grabbed a wad of napkins and dabbed at her chin and shirtfront. “And don’t talk so loud.”

Melody Cross, one of the second-grade teachers at Crimson Elementary, snorted. “It’s a crowded bar on a busy Thursday night. No one can hear me.”

But Melody had the kind of booming voice that could quiet a room full of squirming eight-year-olds the afternoon before summer break. The tall table they stood at was a good five feet from the bar, but Erin swore she saw the man’s broad shoulders stiffen.

“Want me to take a picture of him?” Suzie Vitale, her fellow kindergarten teacher, offered with a tipsy smile. “It lasts longer.”

Before Erin could stop her, the curvy blonde aimed her phone at the backside of the gorgeous guy who not only worked the bar but also owned Elevation Brewery. The brewpub had opened a little over a year ago and had become a popular hangout for both locals and tourists in the quaint mountain town of Crimson, Colorado.

Erin had noticed David McCay, the brewery’s owner, the first time she’d stepped into the nouveau rustic—and very on-trend for Colorado—space. He was tall and lean, with dark blond hair that curled around the collars of the flannel shirts he favored. David McCay was as handsome as a movie star and built like he spent endless hours tossing huge sacks of barley—or whatever it was beer brewers did.

Erin, who was built like she spent her days sitting cross-legged on a reading rug, had surreptitiously watched him each time she came into the bar with friends or coworkers for a random happy hour or birthday celebration. He was often tending bar or sometimes she’d spot him coming out from the back, wearing the heavy rubber boots and backward ball cap that she’d quickly learned were his uniform when actually brewing beer.

Colorado was known for its craft brews, and the fact that Elevation had made a name for itself so quickly was a testament to his hard work and talent at running a business.

At least that’s what Erin wanted to believe. Her mother liked to remind Erin that she too often assumed the best about people, which allowed them to regularly take advantage of her.

But David McCay hadn’t taken advantage of her, even though it was the stuff of her fantasies. Even though his nephew, Rhett, was now in her kindergarten class and David had been with the boy and his mother for back-to-school night. Erin had barely been able to put a sentence together with David towering over the other adults in the back of her classroom, but he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge her. Heck, it was doubtful he even knew she existed.

Except when she blinked and looked up, he was staring straight at her. Sparks of awareness flamed through her body, setting every inch of her skin on fire. He lifted one thick brow as if he could read her thoughts. Which might be impossible since it felt like all of her brain cells had spontaneously combusted under the weight of his stare.

She heard Melody giggle behind her, and Suzie gave her a little shove forward. David now stood at the edge of the bar, only a short distance from her, with movement all around him. Customers in groups laughed and talked. A waitress set her tray on the rich wood bar top. A group of women at near the edge of the bar vied for his attention. But his focus remained on Erin.

Then something—someone—suddenly blocked her vision. Cole Bennett, Crimson’s recently elected sheriff, was talking to David. Cole was also tall and broad, and to use one of her mom’s favorite expressions, made a better door than a window.

Erin shifted to the right as she overheard Cole mention Rhett, David’s nephew. David’s gaze hardened and his jaw clenched. Unable to stop herself, she moved forward, sidestepping a couple heading toward the back of the bar and a group of twentysomething guys who looked like they’d just come off a hiking trail, until she stood directly behind the sheriff.

She was five feet four inches tall in the clogs she favored for work, so both men towered over her and were completely unaware she was listening to their conversation. Invisibility was Erin’s unintentional superpower. She knew much more than she should about her coworkers and neighbors, simply because people didn’t notice she was there.

“Rhett is safe,” Cole told David. “But they can’t get him to come out.”

“What the hell was Jenna thinking?” David asked, then scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “No, don’t answer that.”

“She’s in trouble, David. The crowd she’s running with—”

“I’ll handle it.” He pulled a set of keys out of one of the pockets in his tan cargo pants. “I just need to tell Tracie I’m leaving for the night. I’ll be over for Rhett.”

“I have to call Social Services,” Cole said softly, and Erin felt the tension ratchet up a notch.

“Give me some time with him first, okay?”

“Can you—”

“I’ll handle it,” David repeated. He moved behind the bar and spoke to the woman filling two pint glasses from the tap.

The sheriff walked out of the bar, patrons instinctively clearing a path for him although he wasn’t in uniform tonight.

When she looked up, David McCay stood toe-to-toe with her. She realized she’d moved forward to block his path from behind the bar.

In her daydreams, she’d compared his eyes to the brilliant summer sky above the ragged peak of Crimson Mountain or the iridescent cobalt of a tropical lagoon. But now his frosty stare was more like the ice blue of a glacier, so cold a shiver passed through her.

“I don’t have time for this, sweetheart. You and your friends are going to have to play your liquid courage bar games with someone else.”

“It’s not a game,” Erin said.

“Darlin’, you ordered a froofy drink in my bar. It’s either a game or a joke.”

This close to David, the heat and frustration radiating off him made her feel different from the woman she knew herself to be. She was aware of her body in a way that was new and exhilarating. She wanted more. She wanted…something she couldn’t name. Still, the promise of it made her weak with longing.

Also braver than she’d ever been. Or maybe crazy was a better word, because when he moved to step around her, she placed a hand on his arm.

“I can help with your nephew.”

Author Bio:

Michelle Major grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in Journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at www.michellemajor.com.

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The Baby Project by Miranda Liasson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What are the chances that two people who have a brief intense affair while both on mission in Africa might have another chance? According to the Baby Project those chances are quite good. I received a copy in exchange for an honest review from Barclay Publicity. Grant is news correspondent who has worked in some of the most dangerous areas of the world bring news of conflicts to the world. He is rumored to be close to winning a Pulitzer prize and his boss is chomping at the bit to get that award for his reporting organization. Liz is an OB/GYN who was stationed in Africa where she went when her life was at its lowest. She was seeking purpose and a break from her life.

Liz is now a partner in a local OB/GYN practice in a small town in the South, her home town where she lives within blocks of her parents, sisters and their husbands and her brother and his family. Both of her sisters are expecting babies and although Liz is very happy for them it brings her pain to know that she may not have a chance to have a baby. She has a condition that is getting increasingly worse which might prevent her from having a baby. She knows she has to act now if she will ever have a chance to have her own baby. Liz is ready to try insemination if she can find the right donor which has to be someone she knows as characteristics in a file are not enough for her.

Grant is in town to prepare his aunt's home for sale, or so he says since that home happens to be next door to the woman he had a brief affair with in Africa. Grant himself is not sure if he is only there to make repairs and prepare the home for sale, especially after he sees Liz again and he realizes he was only fooling himself. The trouble is he is not the kind of man to settle down, but, maybe he can get a chance to spend some time with Liz. Of course Liz decides that Grant has all of the characteristics of what she wants for her child and asks for his help.

The Baby Project gives the reader both sides of the story, how Grant and Liz met. It tells the story of their affair in Africa from both of their perspectives and what went wrong. It finally tells the story of how their relationship progresses while Grant is in town preparing a documentary on the state of small-town life. It is an endearing story that tells the story of a woman who has know great love from her family but been unlucky in romantic love and the story of a man who has not known great love from his family, other than his aunt), so he purposely stayed away from romantic love and how they find their way to each other more than once.

When a workaholic OB doctor asks her commitmentphobic, globetrotting ex-fling to donate a sperm sample, a simple request turns into far more than either of them ever bargained for…Here comes THE BABY PROJECT by Miranda Liasson…

About THE BABY PROJECT  

Liz Kingston spends her life delivering babies and longs for one of her own. All she needs is someone with fabulous genetic material. Who better to ask than her sexy ex-fling, who has no interest in ever settling down or being a father.

International correspondent Grant Wilbanks loves danger and travelling the world. But nothing in all this Brit’s experience could have prepared him for the way a torrid affair with Liz makes him feel. When she asks for his assistance, he figures he can help her out with a simple donation. No strings, no emotions, just…test-tube science.

But this simple favor gives them both more than they ever bargained for. Grant agrees to her terms, but stepping away gets harder and harder because the more time they spend together, the more he finds himself falling…and losing the battle to safeguard his heart.

On Sale in Digital: September 4, 2017

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Excerpt:

“I have one question,” Grant said.

“What is it?” Liz asked. Her body felt boneless, her throat suddenly dry, blood whooshing in her ears. Either she was having a heart attack or she was very, very turned on. Or both.

“Why are you wearing my bathrobe?”

Oh, dammit. Busted. At least the embarrassment made her thoughts veer back into safer territory. “I—spilled vinegar on my shirt and it was hanging on your kitchen chair.” That was the truth. She omitted the fact that she’d inhaled it repeatedly and probably would have slept in it if he hadn’t shown up.

His full, beautiful lips curved up in a smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

His hands stopped moving on her arms. He stood there looking at her, his grin slowly fading.

There went that whoosh-whooshing of her blood pounding through her temples, her pulse points, the heat from his gaze spreading through her, settling in her core.

“It might look even better off,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Oh God. Did she say that?

            His brows shot up in surprise. The smile returned, this time predatory. A gleam flashed in his eyes. Then he bent his head and kissed her. Just a graze of her lips, soft and featherlight, but it made her lose her breath, her balance. Her sense.

He steadied her. Pulled back, holding her by the shoulders and tracing her cheek with his thumb. “I need you to tell me what you want. Perhaps this isn’t a good time.”

She couldn’t let him leave. She wanted him more than air, needed him too badly. But to say that?

His thumb slipped down and traced her lower lip. “Let me make you feel better. I know how.”

Of course he did, and every cell in her body knew it.

His other hand wrapped around her neck, tangled in her hair. Slowly, he drew her in to him. Tugged on her lower lip, tasted it. Teased it. She gasped. The surprising tenderness of his touch, the slow, careful moves, had her trembling beneath his touch.

“Is this what you want?”

Oh, of course it was. Emotions collided inside her, some attached to warnings, but her absolute need for him pushed all her doubts away.

“Say the word and I’ll leave. But say it now.”

His voice was soft, tender, yet demanding at the same time.

“Yes.”

One word was all it took for him to seal her lips with his. He possessed her mouth with relentless kisses and thorough strokes of his clever tongue, making the slow steady simmer building within her go up in flames.

Suddenly their bodies were flush, and she could feel the raw, uncontrolled heat of him searing her through his thin robe. The hard thickness of his erection pressed against her belly, against the throbbing pulse between her legs. His mouth was on her, oh God, his wonderful, soft lips kissing her, possessing her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers.

She forgot everything—her sadness, her disappointment, her name. All were smoke and ashes scorched by the absolute hunger between them.

            He slid his hand down her back and cupped her ass, positioning her over his raging erection. She ground her hips against him until he emitted a deep, low growl, which pleased her greatly. She felt his smile against her lips as he scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

“I will,” he said, tossing her lightly onto the bed and shrugging off his suit jacket. “But only if you give me back my robe. I’m quite possessive of my clothing.”

Author Bio:

Miranda Liasson loves to write stories about everyday people who find love despite themselves, because there’s nothing like a great love story. And if there are a few laughs along the way, even better! She’s a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart winner and an Amazon bestselling author whose heartwarming and humorous small–town romances have won accolades such as the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and have been Harlequin Junkie and Night Owl Reviews Top Picks.

Connect with Miranda: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | Newsletter | Bookbub | Pinterest | Blog