Thursday, September 21, 2017

Book Spotight on Abel's Obsession by Lynn Burke #BDSM #romance @evernightpub @authorlynnburke

HAPPY BOOK BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

When faced with truth beyond faith, Abel must decide where he belongs—with the Amish community, or the woman who owns his heart.




Abel Beiler's story came about while visiting my parents in Amish country this past April. While leaving for home early Sunday morning, I pulled up to a stop sign at a four-way intersection as horses labored to pull their Amish owners and families in their buggies to Sunday worship. 

One young man in an open buggy sat to my right at the stop sign, unsmiling, leaning forward, elbows on knees and reins slack in his hands. I had this overwhelming urge to smile at him, trying to bring a little sunshine to his miserable countenance. 
My plan didn’t work, and even though I was in an SUV with 3 children, the idea of Abel and Dani slammed into my brain, occupying my thoughts the whole way home. I voice-to-text in my phone’s notepad off and on the entire seven hour ride back to Massachusetts as Abel whispered his struggle to find himself in my brain.
Abel’s Obsession is by far the raunchiest story I’ve written to date, and I’m hoping the most eye-opening as well. An oppressed life isn’t a joyful one, and finding the strength to free yourself isn’t always easy. Neither is the choice to take wing and fly.
~Lynn


Abel's Obsession
Cover Art: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art
Release Date: August 30, 2017

Be Warned: BDSM, restraints, sex toys, anal sex, spanking

A young man of religious fervor and self-control, Abel Beiler has every intention of honoring his parents and being baptized into the Amish church. The woman with red curls and flashing green eyes in the back of a convertible, however, makes Abel wonder what life with the English might be like.
He strives to withstand temptation, but the memory of the woman he yearns to dominate, coupled with the explicit images in his cousin’s filthy magazine, threatens his restraint.
Red, his sinful obsession, haunts his shameful dreams and becomes a secret part of his life. When faced with truth beyond faith, Abel must decide where he belongs—with the Amish community, or the woman who owns his heart.

**GET YOUR COPY 25%SALE AT EVERNIGHT!**
Evernight: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/abels-obsession-by-lynn-burke/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0757FM2KL

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0757FM2KL

~~~oOo~~~
EXCERPT:

Much later and hoarse from singing for two hours, my curiosity overrode my better sense, and I followed Eli into the hayloft of their barn. While I held the kerosene lamp, he climbed high into the rafters and returned with a magazine clutched in his hand.
“Got this from my new English friend, Toby.” He sat on a bale, opened the magazine, and turned it toward me.
Lust kicked me in the gut, and I couldn’t speak.
A naked woman lay spread eagle and bound by ropes to a bed, a blindfold and some sort of ball gag in her mouth. A man loomed over her, whip in hand. Tear streaks lined the woman’s face. Red slashes marked her thighs. Wetness coated the pink folds of her sex, glistening, and set my mouth to watering.
The image burned into my brain—submission in an entirely different way than the Old Order’s definition of the word. Spirituality is submission, is what had been reiterated in my ears since childhood. Self-surrender. The willingness to give up oneself to the community and Gott’s chosen leaders.
I soaked in the sinful picture, and for the first time in my life wanted power. Wanted control. I wanted a woman’s submission like the man in leather beside her owned. Unable to tear my gaze off the image, I struggled to swallow.
“Didn’t know people actually did this shit.”
Eli’s curse, the first I had heard from him, barely registered past the blood rushing in my ears. My body tensed as longing to be the man standing over that woman, whip in hand raced through me faster than any thoroughbred—or car.
The image of Red flashed in my mind, and suddenly it was her bound to the bed in the picture, breathing heavily, trembling, and begging for me…

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~~~oOo~~~

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.



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Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Book Spotlight on On a Dark Tide by Naomi CLark #ff #LGBT #romance #ocean #paranormal @evernightpub @naomi_jay

Thanks for having me here today! I'm excited to share my latest Romance on the Go, ON A DARK TIDE, a story I constantly (and probably annoyingly) referred to as the Creepy Ocean Story whilst writing it. I'm a mermaid at heart. I love the ocean, whatever the season, whatever the weather. Nothing makes me feel as at peace or inspired as sitting by the shore. ON A DARK TIDE is one of several stories and books I've written with the ocean at its heart, and it won't be the last.

My jokey reference to it as the Creepy Ocean Story got me thinking about other creepy ocean stories. ON A DARK TIDE was partially inspired by that idea that the deep, vast ocean is concealing a very alien and inhospitable world from us - and that maybe we don't want to uncover it's secrets.

These three books share that theme, and were all incredibly formative reads for me growing up. Enjoy!

1. DAGON
 
DAGON was one of the first stories Lovecraft wrote as an adult, back in 1917. Told from the point of view of a morphine addict recounting a horrific experience he had as a merchant marine, it's classic Lovecraft, encapsulated into a short but striking story. Adrift in an unknown region of the ocean, he finds "a slimy expanse of hellish black mire" thrown to the ocean's surface by a volcanic upheaval. Upon exploring the landmass, he discovers an inhumanly large monolith covered in hieroglyphics that suggest a terrifying truth about humanity. As he studies the monolith, an enormous creature emerges from the waters. Insane with fear, the man escapes, but is cursed to madness as fear of the creature consumes him.

This was the first Lovecraft story I ever read! It set me on a long and happy path of trying to make everyone I knew read Lovecraft (only partially succeeding). It's short enough that his sometimes purple prose doesn't grate on you, and leaves enough to the imagination that you can't help being fascinated by his submerged civilisations and cold, distant gods.

2. TELLING THE SEA

On a rather different note, we have TELLING THE SEA by Pauline Fisk. I must have read this dozens of times as a child. It's the story of Nona, who moves with her mother to a coastal village in Wales to escape an abusive partner. Isolated and lonely, Nona deals with her troubles by sharing them with the sea. But as life grows more complicated and no answers seem to be in sight, Nona does more than just talk to the sea...And soon her life is danger as the waters lure her in.

This is a YA book dealing with some heavy topics - domestic abuse and suicide, chiefly. I don't think I truly appreciated as a child how well those topics were addressed, but it's a book that's stayed in my memory my whole life. The setting and Nona's strange, difficult relationships, and her sanctuary in the sea, make this a one-of-a-kind book.

3. SEA DRAGON HEIR


Oh man. If you want your high fantasy ripe with incest, have I got a book for you. Twins Valraven and Pharinet are heirs of a royal family cursed many hundreds of years before. Any woman married to Valraven was destined to become the Sea Wife, a being capable of commanding the vast powers of the sea dragons. Growing up, Val and Pharinet become lovers, and an intricate web of magic and betrayal engulfs them and everyone around them. 

I love this book, but it's definitely not for everyone. The nature of the sea dragons (are they real or just metaphors for the family's magic?) and the complex political intrigue make this an outstanding first book in the series. The rest of the trilogy drifts away from the ocean and the incredibly sinister dragons, sadly.






Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't share a snippet of my own Creepy Ocean Story with you now...




True crime podcasters Piper and Cam have travelled to the sleepy seaside town of Findlay to investigate the disappearance of a woman nearly a decade ago. The theories are wild—everything from murder to mermaids, and Piper is determined to get to the truth. Battling her fear of the ocean, Piper soon realizes Findlay has deeper, darker secrets than she could ever have believed. As she struggles to master her fear and deal with her unrequited love for Cam, Piper is lured into perilous waters. The truth waits beneath the waves—and Piper's fate waits with it. 

Be Warned: f/f sex


Cam,” Piper said again, almost wailing it as Cam took off back up the shore toward the town. Piper started after her, got her feet tangled in those grabby strands of seaweed, and toppled over. She landed face-first in the sand, grit and water-worn stones digging into her palms. “Shit!”

She lay there for a few seconds, berating herself for being so stupidly tongue-tied. Then she picked herself up and hugged herself against the bitter cold wind rushing off the waves. She could fix this. 
All she had to do was run after Cam and say … something. She didn’t know what, though. She still wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened. What Cam had expected to happen.

But she wouldn’t find out hanging around on the beach, would she?

She started walking, the distant lights of the town guiding her. She and Cam had come further than she realized, and night had swept in while they walked. She couldn’t even see Cam’s silhouette up ahead. But she couldn’t have gotten far, surely. Piper had only been down a minute.

Piper cupped her hands to her mouth. “Cam? Cameron!”

There was no answer. The wind shrieked down the bay, suddenly wild, and Piper flashed back vividly to her dream last night. She wondered if that’s all it had been, a howling gale invading her dreams. She glanced out across the ink-dark waters of the bay, watching the white caps rise and fall as the tide drove in. It was too easy to imagine being tossed around in those wild waves, mouth full of salt, lungs burning, body sinking and rising at the will of the water. It was too easy to imagine Dina Mackay walking into the sea...

Piper shivered, unsure where the idea came from. The wind rose and fell in strange harmony, filling her head with shipwrecks and yellowed bones polished by centuries of sand and water. She stopped looking for Cam, entranced and disturbed by the song of the bay. It did sound like voices, eerily so. Sweet, inhuman singing as the wind ripped through hidden caves and over knee-high banks of marram grass.

Dina could have heard that beautiful, awful music the night she went missing. She could have walked out of the Lobster Pot, just like Piper had tonight, pleasantly buzzed, and thought she heard voices down on the shore, out in the water.

Piper didn't remember moving, but the water lapped at her feet now, so either she’d moved or the tide had. She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. The singing swirled around her, warming her where the wind had chilled her. The water washed over her canvas shoes, soaking in and anchoring her to the shore. The singing pulled at her, dragged at her, as inexorable as the ocean.


Available now from



About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find me online:

Blog - http://naomiclarkwrites.blogspot.co.uk/
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/naomijclark?ref=bookmarks
Twitter - @naomi_jay

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Every cell in him hummed to life.-- #WeekendWritingWarriors and #SexySnippets from my current WIP #vampires #amwriting #romance



Happy Sunday, lovelies!

Last week I gave you a glimpse of Christopher and today, I'm giving you another look a little further in the manuscript. This is the first time he "sees" the heroine...

Bear in mind that A LOT of creative editing has taken place to keep to the guidelines. Nevertheless, enjoy! 

XoXo
Elyzabeth





 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Christopher took in a deep breath and froze as every cell in him hummed to life: human.

The sweet scent of blood seeped into him. His eyes narrowed and his stomach growled. How long had it been since he’d sunk his fangs into a living being? In here, he didn’t need to hunt as his boss provided all the nourishment he needed, most of it animal. It was never the same but it kept him going. 

But this. 

He inhaled sharply again, realizing how he’d missed it. The delicious fragrance, coppery, yet sweet, and particular to each person. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. 

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


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Thursday, September 14, 2017

Book Spotlight on The Time by Peri Elizabeth Scott #dystopian #fiction #suspense








Excerpt:

The quick retreat wasn’t totally silent. She could hear the sounds of the others, moving quickly along parallel lines to her own painful effort. Wondering how long she could keep the burst of energy up, she noted the noises diminished as people worked their way outward like the spokes of a wheel. Four hundred paces and the air burned in her lungs. Sh e fought the tough terrain and avoided the thickening flora, the damn sled hanging up at each and every turn. Her arms burned with the desperate efforts to free the runners and the hound whined with pain.
Six hundred paces had her bent doubled over with a stitch in her side. She went to her knees when the ground sloped away into a small ravine, nearly causing her and Gehlert to tumble into its depths, the momentum of the heavy sled a terrible burden. It was the dog who saved them, digging his forefeet in and throwing his body weight back to settle on his haunches. She hugged him fiercely, his pants and thundering heartbeat mirroring her own.
Skirting the ravine took them well away from what she reckoned was a straight path outward from the original starting point. She scanned the treetops in a near futile effort to reorient herself. The filtered light told her the sun was at four o’clock, so she deviated slightly to her right and pushed on, wondering where the strength to do so had come from.
Having lost count of her pacing, she chanced another three hundred, using images of what would happen if they got caught to spur her on. Certain they’d walked a half marathon, she chose a thick clump of gorse bushes, insanely wondering how they’d come to flourish this deep in the woods. The hound stepped away from the harness the instant she freed him and staggered sideways to collapse on a bed of leaves and other organic debris. Doggedly working to separate the lower branches of the bushes and wincing at the spiny press of the remaining leaves despite the cover of her thin gloves, she managed to secret the sled, or at least muddle the outline of it. She bent thinner twigs to camouflage it further and made herself take the time to stand back and take as critical a look as she could. Satisfied, she found another clump of the same vegetation and crawled in backward, stopping only when her feet couldn’t press any deeper. She then pressed a dog sized space open to her right.
“Gehlert.” Even a whisper hurt her parched throat, but she was rewarded with a faint thump of his tail. “Come.”
The hound visibly considered her command, ears lowering and eyes drifting before he levered upward, limping to her. He’d pulled more than his weight and was clearly on the brink of exhaustion. Even in the dappled light she could see where the harness had cut harshly into his hide, the thick guard hairs rubbed away. She wanted to cry. Blinking hard, she swallowed against the emotion.
“Here.” She patted the small space beside her and he obligingly wiggled in, somehow turning in place three times before he settled down. Draping an arm over him, she tugged a few branches into place over, poking herself in the cheek as she did so, then dropped her head onto the fertile earth.
After a time, her heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal, as did the hound’s, although he hitched from time to time with a little gasping noise. At last, she could focus on her surroundings and actually hear the forest sounds, the faint creak of living wood, the rustle of a small breeze among the remaining leaves, and the occasional call of a bird. The ground was reasonably warm, despite the approach of winter, and with Gehlert pressed close, she wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. She only wished she’d thought to bring one of the water bottles into her makeshift shelter, her body crying out for moisture after the forced march.
Time crept by and she became aware of how her pistol rested with solid intent against her belly, the barrel grinding into her hip. Seeing that her weapon was the only thing between her and whatever was out there hunting them, she cursed fluently under her breath and hitched up enough to worm a hand beneath her. With some judicious pulling and peeling back of the layers of clothing, she was able to free the butt and work the pistol out from under her, blessing her foresight to set the safety. She brought it up beside her head, one finger through the trigger, palm resting lightly against the pommel, before she flicked the safety off.
The hound stiffened beneath her lax arm and she strained her ears, suppressing a shudder. Perhaps it was one of the others, off course and passing by, still trudging those thousand paces, that had alerted him. Or an animal, picking its way through the trees. Alas, it was the base notes of a number of male voices she heard, far off, their words indistinct, distorted by the numerous trees and the uneven terrain—and the sudden escalation of her heartbeat. Stark terror froze her in place, chilling her blood, making her sex draw up in self-defense. Her belly clenched in on itself and goose flesh broke out all along her spine. Air rushed in and out of her nose as she tried hard not to pant, knowing how foreign the sound would be, how easily heard if someone cared to stop and listen. Her dog shivered in response to her angst and made a faint whine.
That whimper awakened her higher brain functions and she gained control. With a firm squeeze, she signaled Gehlert into silence. They huddled together and waited as she held her weapon at the ready.
Disjointed phrases drifted to her ears, accompanied by faint crashing sounds of something larger than a person.
“…signs of at least…”
“Over here!”
“…nothing…”
She was certain she felt a cold stare focused on their location, something malevolent and inhuman, and remained as still as possible, willing their hidden forms to blend into the surroundings. Nothing to see here. Just more trees and underbrush. She prayed there were no dogs, and cast her eyes down, refusing to risk even that chance of a flicker of awareness.
Minutes passed as she counted the seconds. Three hundred and sixty, then six hundred and sixty. Eleven minutes, give or take. The evil stare lingered in her imagination, or perhaps its owner was still out there, patient as a spider. The adrenalin leached out of her muscles, leaving her spent and far more fatigued than ever. She wouldn’t move, wouldn’t make it easier for whoever it was out there to find her, but felt as though she had nothing left to defend herself if he did. Her pistol seemed impossibly toy-like against the threat and her knife was still in her boot. 



Author Bio:

Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. After closing her private practice as a social worker and child play therapist, she joined her husband in running their season business where they pretend to work well together.

Writing for years, The Time is a departure from her usual romance genre, but it was a story that had to be told!

Peribeth also pens erotic romance under a different pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.