Monday, July 14, 2014

Hot-Blooded Blitz-Kendall Grey for July 14,2014



Title: Hot-Blooded (The ‘Ohana Series, book 1)
Author: Kendall Grey
Publish Date: July 14, 2014



‘Ohana is everything…

When an accident claims her mother’s life, Keahilani Alana must take charge of her `ohana(family) or risk losing what little they have. With an underage brother to care for and no education, she has few options. The door to a heavenly hellish opportunity opens when she stumbles upon a valuable secret her mother left behind on the slopes of an extinct volcano—a legacy that tempts the family with riches beyond their wildest dreams. But the secret is much bigger and more sinister than they realize. As reality unravels and exposes eerie truths about the ‘ohana that should have remained deep under the mountain, Keahilani must either resist the call of her blood or risk being consumed by its darkness.

Blake Murphy is an assassin working to infiltrate a new Hawaiian cartel. His investigation reveals that Keahilani, the sexy surfing instructor he pegged as an informant, is much closer to the drug ring than he thought. Passion ignites between them in the bedroom, but their ironclad ties to opposing interests pit them against each other everywhere else.

When tensions reach the breaking point and her ‘ohana is threatened, the only cure for Keahilani’s hot-blooded fury is a loaded clip with a body bag chaser.

They don’t call her Pele for nothing 
WARNING: HOT-BLOODED does NOT end with a happily ever after. It contains drug use and graphic sex, language, and violence. The story is intended to entertain, not to condone or glorify illegal or immoral activities. This book is unsuitable for sensitive readers and those under the age of 18.

*Written in 3rd person with multiple POVs. 






Chapter One

Maui, 2008

“You think Bane will win this year?” Kai asked from the backseat. It was hard to hear him over the sputter of the coughing engine, but a tinge of uncertainty blurred his soft voice.
From the passenger seat, Keahilani glanced back at her twin. The wind from Mahina’s open window in front of him blew the sun-kissed brown hair from his face. His locks executed complicated flips like a drunk diver stumbling off the cliffs of Black Rock on Kāʻanapali Beach. 
“Maybe.” Keahilani didn’t want to jinx their little brother’s chances, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Kai had always been the optimistic one who searched for the good in every situation. She considered herself practical above all else. In short, Kai hoped. Keahilani hedged.
That said, she had no doubt Bane would totally kill it in the surfing competition today.
“Absolutely,” Mahina said. Keahilani felt her mother’s smile rather than saw it. That’s how Mahina was. Energy rather than form. Larger than life. A force to be reckoned with. To those who didn’t know her, Mahina was intimidation made flesh. To her family, she was the epitome of love and respect with a sharp edge.
Years filled with alternating tragedies and triumphs had that hard-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside effect on a person.
Keahilani fumbled with her hair, wrestling the tangles from the wind’s clutches as she squinted into the sun. Damn car’s air conditioning hadn’t worked in ages, and Mahina probably wouldn’t have run it even if it did. She pinched pennies at the expense of the smallest comforts. Recycled water for gardening. No lights on during the day. Not a single bite of food wasted. Hell, the members of the household even took timed, lukewarm showers. Five minutes was all anyone ever got, birthdays included.
Keahilani sighed. As soon as she landed a higher-paying job, she’d help the family move out of government housing into something better. Her mother had given so much of herself to keep the ‘ohana strong. She deserved some reward for her struggles. They all did.
Mahina shoved one hand into the hemp bag lying between the bucket seats while the other maintained tenuous control of the steering wheel. She glanced away from the road a couple of times.
Sitting up, Keahilani swiped the thin sheen of sweat from her leg. God, this heat. “What do you need? I’ll get it.”
Mahina gently pushed her away and continued fumbling around in the bag.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” Keahilani gibed. Her mother always said the same when she drove.
Mahina paused her rifling as she rounded a sharp curve. “Bane told me that rude haole boy from Kihei—what’s his name? Josh something?—is the biggest competition this year. That little shit needs his ass handed to him.”
True. Josh beat Bane (barely) at their last surfing contest, and afterward he bragged about haole surfers being better than Natives. Mahina’s lip curled, and she bared her teeth over a growl. Keahilani had to physically restrain her from attacking the kid. Mahina could take a lot of crap, but when you brought her or her children’s heritage and/or wave-riding abilities into question, things were guaranteed to get ugly.
And they did. Josh ran to his mother and hid behind her. Keahilani was pretty sure he peed his pants too. Served him right.
Most people agreed religion, money, and politics were topics best avoided in social situations. Mahina’s top three incendiary topics were Native Hawaiians, surfing, and social justice.
“He’ll get his.” Keahilani gazed at the ocean. “They always do.”
The bend navigated, Mahina returned to digging through her purse. “Damn it. Where did I put those cigarettes?” She glanced down and shoved half of the contents aside.
Smoking was her one vice—the single luxury she allowed herself. She only smoked two cigarettes a day, always out of sight from Bane, so Keahilani tried not to nag her too much about it. Mahina said she felt guilty for spending an extra seven bucks every week and a half on cancer sticks, but Keahilani was more concerned about her health than a few lost dollars.
Another curve snuck up on them like a rogue wave out of nowhere, and a motorcycle breached the double yellow lines, heading straight for them.
Fear punched her in the gut, and Keahilani slapped a hand to the dashboard. 
“Mahina!” Kai’s shout from the backseat struck a perfect chord with Keahilani’s cry.
“Shit!” Their mother yanked the steering wheel, avoiding the motorcycle, but the car careened across pavement, tires screaming in protest.
Keahilani clutched her seat, and the world slowed to a dreadful, slow-motion panorama. Reality spun into blurred brown lines intermingled with blood-curdling, rubber-ripping howls that danced around her head like little cartoon birds. Her body succumbed to laws of physics she couldn’t break as it thrashed against the belt crossing her chest. Bones protested at the impact.
Twirl. Skid. SLAM!
The dreamlike scene ended abruptly. A bloody wake-up call infused with a double shot of delayed reaction lit up her pain receptors. Deadly silence, save for a hissing radiator, commanded the airwaves.
Keahilani tried to unbuckle herself, but her arm wouldn’t cooperate. It was stuck between the seat and the door. Dazed, she turned toward Mahina and wished she hadn’t.
Red. Not on her lips where it should be, but trickling down her temple. Saturating her light shirt. Pooling on the seat. The crumpled door embedded her side as if it were made of cardboard rather than steel. Red-dipped glass fragments lay shattered in a macabre butterfly shape on her lap.
A chill alighted on Keahilani’s skin, soft like a blanket at first, but then it seeped in, a sinister terror, seizing her whole body.
“Mahina?” Keahilani whispered, afraid that if she spoke too loudly, she might somehow break her mother further. Heart shuffling into a gallop, she couldn’t catch her breath. Couldn’t catch her racing thoughts as they sped away, leaving her control high and dry. Sanity whirled into a vortex, and adrenaline-powered fear clamped around her throat. “Makuahine?” she said more forcefully.
Kai groaned behind Mahina and lifted his head from his tipped-over position in the seat. He’d avoided the impact when the door caved in. Thank God.
A quiet rattle nabbed Keahilani’s attention. Dread anchored to her gut, and gravity dragged it down. No. No. No. Mahina would be okay. She had to be.
She wrestled the door and with great effort, wriggled her sore arm free and scrambled for the seatbelt. Mahina’s chest crested with another rattle. 
Mahina … oh God, Mahina … Her pulse increased to an impossible speed, flooding her ears with wild thumps, goading her into action. The belt sprung loose, and Keahilani’s hands flew to her mother, who was such a horrific mess, she didn’t even know where to start.
Flag someone down for help. You can’t fix this yourself.
“Makuahine?” The high pitch of Kai’s normally low voice startled her.
Keahilani yanked the door handle and shouldered it open. The grisly rattling spurring her on, she stumbled out of the car. Searing pain shot down her leg. She caught herself before face-planting on the pavement and limped into the road.
The asshole on the bike that almost hit them was long gone, but a car headed their way. She waved her good arm in an exaggerated arc. Eyes wide, the driver slammed into park and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll get help.” Keahilani nodded her thanks. She awkwardly galloped back to her ‘ohana.
Kai tumbled out of the backseat, wincing, eyes watering, brows knitted together in a tight weave of physical and emotional agony. A furious bruise bloomed on his cheek. “She’s gonna die.” His voice cracked. “Mahina’s gonna die.”
Keahilani ignored him and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Avoiding the bloodied bag of flesh trapped in the seat, she studied the accordion of metal and gave it a gentle tug. Nothing happened. She grasped the panel with one hand, the handle with the other, and put all of her might into pulling it open. Kai appeared beside her, sniffling, shoulders heaving. Barely controlled panic rolled off him. With his help, she managed to budge the door open. Mahina jerked as the air hit her, and blood flooded out of her side in a rush.
Kai tugged his shirt over his head and stuffed it into the wound. He smoothed Mahina’s wet hair. “Makuahine. Makuahine, can you hear me?” The sudden calmness in his tenor frightened Keahilani more than the blood did. Her brother was right. Mahina—her mother, her sister, her best friend—was going to die.
A lump clogged Keahilani’s throat, but the approach of a wailing siren didn’t give her time to grieve. Kai knelt beside their mom until the paramedics barreled up with a gurney and took over.
The ensuing moments were yet another blur in the blizzard of unbelievable events. Someone asked if she was okay. They helped her to the side of the road and checked out her and Kai. Red and white lights whirred. Urgent voices chattered. A line of cars backed up the highway. Dazed, Keahilani followed when a paramedic guided her into the back of the ambulance with Kai and the bundle of splintered pieces that used to be their mother.
Doors slammed behind them, locking her into a wheeled mausoleum. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be trapped in there with her mother as she died. Panic tore through her, weakening and electrifying all at once.
The engine roared, the siren shrieked, and tires spun.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.
“I’m dying,” Mahina whispered on a shallow current of air. The garbled words blended with what Keahilani feared was blood filling her mother’s punctured lung. They were almost a plea. Whether for relief, a merciful end, or escape, Keahilani wasn’t sure, but she felt as if she was the one who’d been crushed by the door.
Clutching the crisp white sheet on the gurney, Mahina tensed and arched her back. More blood seeped through the bandages the EMT slapped over her abdomen. God, so much blood. The horrible rattling inside her chest picked up. Thick creases of anguish and fear marred her unusually pale face, gobbling up her ha, her very breath.
“Be still, Mahina.” Trembling hand squeezing her mother’s, Keahilani shot her gaze out the ambulance window. Not too far from the hospital, but the way things were going, it might not matter.
Her mother could not die. Could not.
“Makuahine, you gotta stay awake. Let me know you’re still with me.” Keahilani kissed her mother’s clammy cheek. Forbidden droplets poised at the corners of her lids. A fresh rush of adrenaline surged and prevented those damned tears from falling. She had to be strong for Mahina. And for Kai.
She glanced to her twin in the seat beside her, head stuffed in his tanned, shaking hands. Damp brown waves of hair framed his thumb and fingers. The unbearable siren stifled what must have been chokes issuing through his dry lips.
“The doctors will help you.” Keahilani didn’t believe the words any more than her mother or Kai did. Even if her mom had a chance, the family had no insurance. Odds of getting quality treatment were nil. The haole doctors were interested in paying patients, not “moochers” off their precious system. If you couldn’t help them cover their golf expenses at the country club or the mortgage on their multimillion-dollar suites at the tourist-dominated condominiums, they’d provide only the most basic services because they had to. People like Mahina were nothing more than quickly forgotten chores marked off over-filled to-do lists.
Keahilani clutched her mother’s hand tighter and wiped her nose on a lifted shoulder. Another deep rumble of fluid inside Mahina’s chest fought for control of a space designed only for air. Mahina’s body rose from the gurney again. She emerged gasping, nails digging into Keahilani’s flesh. With a glut of super strength, her mother commandeered Keahilani’s T-shirt, balling the thin, faded cotton. Her bloodshot brown eyes widened, and frightening acceptance dawned over them. She swallowed a couple times in quick succession, her gulps like those of a fish left on a dock to die.
“My garden. You must protect my garden. You know where it is, huh? You remember?” Her words transformed from desperate pleas into unyielding demands.
Keahilani nodded. “I remember. But I won’t need to tend to your plants. You’ll be here to do it,” she lied.
Somehow Mahina’s eyes popped even wider, and her grip became painful. Heated droplets pooled in Keahilani’s palm. Blood.
“No. Death hunted me for years, and now he’s found me. My secrets—our secrets—lie near Kula within the slopes of Haleakalā.” Her brows wrenched together. “Protect them.”
Why would Mahina care about her stupid plants at a time like this?
 “Keahilani!” She tried to sit up, but the straps across her chest stopped her. “Promise me!”
“I promise.” Keahilani pressed her lips together to keep the emotion at bay, but an eruption was overdue. Boiling sorrow welled from deep within, tainted by the injustice of her mother’s situation. Waves of regret rolled off Kai beside her, clashing with the whiff of death surrounding Mahina. The combined stench overwhelmed her, suffocated her, lured the burning lava higher up her gullet. She tried bargaining with the impending explosion. Mahina needs you to remain calm. Don’t upset her. If this is her end, honor her with your silence.
“How much longer?” she demanded of the driver through clenched teeth. 
“Three minutes.”
Mahina didn’t have three minutes.
Ironic how fast life could transform into death. One moment, they’d been driving to Lāhainā Harbor to see Bane surf in the groms competition. The next, a freak car crash robbed her not only of her mother’s life, but her entire family’s. If Mahina hadn’t been rifling through her bag for that damned cigarette instead of paying attention to the road, they’d probably be sitting on the beach now, cheering for Bane as he dominated ka po‘ina nalu and showed the haole surfers how it was done.
Keahilani had always feared smoking would kill her mother.
She hated being right.
Mahina’s breaths decreased to mere whispers of garbled air. Her dark eyes lost focus. Her hold on Keahilani loosened.
“Stay with me, Makuahine. Come on. Wake up.” Keahilani tapped her mother’s cheek a couple times. Kai lifted his head, his face streaked with tears. He leaned closer.
“Makuahine.” His voice cracked.
Their mother latched onto Keahilani and Kai in turn. “‘Ohana is everything. The blood is everything…” The words were barely intelligible. The ghost of a smile passed over her parted lips. The gurgle kicked up again with her inhale.
Keahilani held her own breath and counted the seconds. 
Five … six … seven …
The word “‘ohana” surfed on the wave of Mahina’s lengthy exhale.
The ambulance driver slammed the brakes and took a sharp right into the emergency entrance at the hospital, jostling the three bodies in back. Two reacted. One didn’t.
Kai shook their mother. Her vacant gaze remained fastened on Keahilani, her final word forever emblazoned in Keahilani’s mind.
‘Ohana.
As shadows converged and undiluted rage consumed her, she channeled the heavenly fire she was named after, pushed it out from her core, and unleashed all of her anger and frustration and sorrow into a vocal eruption. “NO!”
The ambulance windows rattled and sent the petrified EMTs scrambling to cover their ears. 
When the last echo of the word died on her lips, the searing heat cooled like lava expelled from the darkest depths, forced to chill in the unyielding harshness of reality. Left with cold blood and too many memories, Keahilani threw herself over her mother’s lifeless body. “No …,” she cried.
Kai’s shaky hand pressed into the small of her back. “We’re alone.” His frame quaking, he nuzzled her shoulder.
‘Ohana was all they had left. 





1. HOT-BLOODED is a cross between Point Break, The Sopranos, and Twin Peaks. So, if you like surfing, gangster-style grit with a side of psychological suspense, this one might be right up your alley.

2. HOT-BLOODED’s heroine, Keahilani Alana, is a Hawaiian surfer chick with skeletons (and some other dark, bump-in-the-night baddies) in her closet. She’s strong-willed, independent, and more than willing to use force to get her point across.

3. The tagline for HOT-BLOODED is “‘Ohana is everything,” and boy is it EVER! ‘Ohana means “family” in Hawaiian, and this book explores the nature of family—good, bad, and deadly—on many levels.

4. It’s set on the lush island of Maui where every color of the rainbow rules—and where terrifying shadows exist in places you least expect them.

5. HOT-BLOODED is loosely connected to Kendall’s JUST BREATHE urban fantasy series. You don’t have to have read those books to enjoy this one, but JUST BREATHE readers who do a little digging may notice some subtle connections. There’s a reason for that. Stick with the ‘Ohana series to find out more! :-) 




Paperback from Amazon: http://bit.ly/HotBloodPB
Buy signed paperbacks directly from Kendall: http://www.kendallgrey.com/?page_id=4666





Kendall Grey is the self-appointed past, present, and future president of the Authors Behaving Badly Club. A whale warrior and indie freedom fighter, she spends summers in the corner (usually with a dunce cap on her head) and winters hunched at the peak of Mt. Trouble, fiery pens of fury (complete with invisible ink) flying across the pages. She has a big set of cajones, and she's not afraid to use them. In her spare time, Kendall speaks your mind so you don't have to.







Irrevocable by Skye Callahan Release Blitz

Irrevocable Banner
Title: Irrevocable
Author: Skye Callahan
Genre: Dark Erotic Romance
Release Date: July 14, 2014
add-to-goodreads-button31
Synopsis
Sometimes when you can’t go back, the only way out is to descend into the darkness. 
my Captor
When I woke in that place, I just wanted to survive. But survival came at a cost, for which they demanded my will and body.
my Master
With pain came acceptance. Fully-dependent on the man who claimed me, I learned to appreciate what I had-life and relative safety. 
my Protector
I watched him spill blood and tend my injuries. With betrayal came a revelation. 
The only way out was to bring them all down or die trying.
Warning: This isn't your rainbows and love sonnets kind of romance. This story explores topics of abduction and slavery, and contains explicit scenes of dubious consent, graphic violence and sex.
Buy The Book
21946232
Excerpt
Through the haze of sleep, I felt hands on me. Cold and rough. I thought for a fleeting moment that it might have been Kyle. Then, I remembered our break up. It had happened weeks ago, but maybe that part was the dream. My memory was fucked and I couldn’t latch onto a thought long enough to ride it out of the fog. “Did you make a decision?” Kyle asked. I rolled over and pulled the comforter up to my neck. I had decided that I didn’t want to make a decision—mostly that I didn’t appreciate him trying to force me into a decision when I had told him time after time that I didn’t want him moving into my apartment even after six months together. “You can barely afford the place anyway since your sister moved out. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal unless you don’t want to be together.” I did, and yet, the threat of him leaving seemed like a relief…. Hands groped and pulled—rough against my skin and digging into muscle and bone. Too many hands. The bits of memory faded as I tried to retreat from the onslaught. My back pressed into a hard surface beneath me, and my nostrils filled with the smell of musk and damp stale air. I had no idea where I was, or how I’d gotten there. I kicked and gasped, trying to get back to the surface where reality lurked. It shimmered in the distance, just out of reach, like the sun on the surface of the water during a dive. A hand latched onto my hair and held my head back. My eyelids were finally freed from the sticky muck that held me in semi-consciousness, and I opened them to find myself staring up into unfamiliar eyes. I only held his gaze for a few seconds—if that—but it seemed like it lasted for hours as my brain fought to categorize the details. Its useless attempt to understand what was going on. The man clutching my hair had vivid green eyes, but they may as well have been black given the emotionless void they displayed. His hair was shaggy, brown with a mix of grey, the same colors that stood out in his unkempt stubble. As if he needed any help looking rough.  
About The Author
Skye Callahan is an Ohio-girl who has spent a lifetime chained to the imaginary worlds of the characters who live in her head. Although it was her interest in paranormal that originally inspired her to pick up the pen, she has recently followed her interest in BDSM and dark romance to venture into other realms of fiction. She currently lives with her husband and two ferrets, who keep her plenty busy when she’s not writing or at the day job where she serves as a Jane-of-all-trades in a non-profit business outreach center.
Mailing List for releases and updates: http://eepurl.com/UW1ET
Irrevocable-Full-1024x741
love p

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Assumption by Aurora Rose Reynolds Cover Reveal

assumption banner.jpg\
Presents
COVER REVEAL: Assumption (Underground Kings #1)
By Aurora Rose Reynolds



Full Jacket/Cover
Assumption (Underground Kings #1)
Cover Artist: Melissa Gil
Photographer:  Scott Hoover
assumption full.jpg
assumption cover.jpg
RELEASE DATE: September 5th, 2014
Blurb
as·sump·tion:
a thing that is accepted as true or as certain to happen, without proof


They say when you assume that you make an ass out of you and me. Kenton Mayson learned this lesson firsthand when he made assumptions about Autumn Freeman and the kind of woman she is based on what little information he had. What he finds out is she’s not only beautiful, but also smart, funny, a fighter, and exactly the kind of woman he wants to share his life with. Autumn made assumptions of her own about Kenton, and now he needs to prove her wrong in order to protect her and their future.

assumption teaser 2.jpg

Prologue & Chapter 1

Assumption The Underground Kings series Kenton Aurora Rose Reynolds Prologue I see you judging me. I know what you’re thinking. She has to be a slut; she works at a strip club and takes off her clothes for money. Yes! I work at a strip club, and you may think I’m a whore for showing off my body, but this is a talent that has been forced down my throat since I was a young child. Look pretty and smile. I put on a show for those who choose to watch. However long I’m on stage, I’m not even me. It’s what I imagine an out of body experience would be like—a performance, nothing more, nothing less. The people watching make assumptions about who they think I am, or cook up a story in their heads of whom they want me to be. I’m just another beautiful face. Beautiful. I hate that fucking word. Who gives a crap if someone is attractive on the outside if they are dying inside? My whole life has been about what I look like. I swear, the only reason my mother kept me was to have a real-life, living, breathing doll she could dress up and control, which is the exact reason why as soon as I became eighteen, I got as far away from her special brand of crazy as I could. That’s also why I don’t date. The first thing guys do is look at me and see a pretty face, a nice body, and an empty space where my brain’s supposed to be. They have no interest in getting to know the person I am on the inside. They don’t care I volunteer my spare time, and they couldn’t care less I’m going to school to be an RN. They don’t ask about my hopes, my dreams, or about where I see my life in twenty years. They don’t care about me at all. They just want someone pretty to follow them around and tell them how handsome they are, how special they are, while agreeing with everything they say. Fuck that! I did that for too many years. That’s why I live inside books. At least there I can choose where I want to be—from the highlands of Scotland, to a king’s bed in a faraway land—and even if it’s pretend, sometimes that’s a lot better than reality. Chapter 1 I look out the plane window, my finger going to the glass, feeling the cold on my fingertips as I look out at the land moving quickly below me. It’s funny how from up here, everything looks so small. I never traveled in a plane before today; just the idea of being trapped inside a tin can while flying at six hundred miles an hour never appealed to me. I take a breath and look at the TV monitor that’s in the seat in front of me. The small, animated plane on the screen shows we’re over halfway to Tennessee. “Are you traveling for business or pleasure?” I turn my head and look at the guy sitting next to me. He’s slightly overweight and balding, but he also has wrinkles around his eyes, giving him the appearance of someone who smiles often. I debate with myself on whether or not to answer before replying, “Business.” His eyes drop to my mouth, then to my chest as I fight the urge to punch him in the throat. I hate when men go from nice to creepy. I shake my head, turning away from him. I don’t know why I even try. I feel a hand on my bare leg and my head swings around quickly. “Touch me again and I will rip off your balls and feed them to you,” I tell him in a soft tone, trying not to bring attention to us. He quickly removes his hand before swallowing hard. “I…I’m sorry.” I shake my head before turning my body away from his. I feel tears sting my nose, but I fight them back. No way am I going to cry now—not when just six hours ago, my whole world exploded and I didn’t shed one single tear. I lay my forehead to the glass, closing my eyes. I still can’t believe how fast my life changed… Yesterday I got up that morning and went to the hospital like I always do. I work at one of the busiest ERs in Vegas. I’ve been working there since I finished school, and was required to get my clinical hours for my RN certification. As soon as I walked into the building, I was loaded down with work. Weekends are always crazy in Sin City, but yesterday seemed worse than normal—two drug overdoses, three stomach pumps, and one gun shot victim. Later, I was leaving the hospital exhausted, only to head to my real job—well, the one that pays me the money I need to live. “Hey, Angel.” “Hey, Sid.” I gave him a half-smile as I walked into The Lions Den, the gentlemen’s club I worked at. Do I like to strip? No. Does it pay my bills? Yes. The second I get on stage, I’m no longer me; my brain shuts off and my body takes over, the same way it used to when I was growing up and my mom forced me into pageants. I’m accustomed to being on display and used for my appearance. I wish life was different, but it is what it is. Some people complain about being overweight or having acne; for me, I hate being beautiful. I know it sounds stupid; I mean, why would anyone complain about being attractive, right? Here’s why: men see me as an object, and women see me as competition. No one is ever willing to give me a chance; they all judge me by what’s on the outside, never taking a second to find out even the smallest detail about who I am. I know I’m a walking cliché; I hate being beautiful, yet I work in a business where I put myself front and center to be viewed and judged. The difference? For the first time in my life, when I get on stage, it’s my choice; no one is forcing me to do it. I get up there to earn the money so I can change my life in a way that will make it where I never have to be objectified again. “Tired?” Sid questioned, following me. I had worked for Sid for the last three years. He was a friend of sorts; he’s also my boss. “Yeah, I can’t wait until my clinical hours are over and I can start working at the hospital full-time, instead of having two jobs.” “I don’t like that I won’t see your face all the time, but I know you need to move on,” he conceded. “Some other girl will come in and you will forget all about me.” “Never, Angel.” His eyes move over my face and he shakes his head. “You’re working VIP tonight.” He followed me down the hall towards the dressing rooms. “Sure,” I agreed, already exhausted. I needed a shower and a bed, but knew I was going to be there for at least eight hours, so I might as well suck it up. “The guys coming in are important, so you need to make sure they’re happy the whole time they’re here.” “I have done this before,” I reminded him, stopping outside the dressing room door to frown at him. “Normally, I wouldn’t say anything—you know that—but I gotta go get on a plane, so I won’t be here to check on them.” “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of,” I assured him. “Thanks, Angel.” He kissed my forehead like he often did before walking away. I watched him go for a second before pulling myself together. “Oh! Look who’s here,” Tessa said as soon as I entered the dressing room. I ignored her and tossed my bag into my locker before pulling my scrubs off. Tessa is a bitch; she is just like the girls I used to compete against in pageants. To her, life is a competition, and she is determine to come out the winner, even if she has to throw everyone else under the bus on her way to the top. “Mick said I could work VIP tonight,” she said to one of the other girls in the room. I ignored her, knowing better than to tell her it wasn’t happening. I was sure Mick did tell her that…after she took him in the backroom and gave him something to convince him. “Pixie said the guys coming in are some big-time land developers, so you know the tips are going to be outrageous. Thank God, because I need to have my tits redone, and that shit is not cheap.” I rolled my eyes and headed for the shower room. I had met a couple nice girls during my time here, but most were just like Tessa—a whole lot of hair, tits, ass, and not much else. I stood in front of the mirror and put on a coat of red lipstick before standing back, looking myself over. The VIP dress code is different than the rest of the club. The required outfit consists of a sheer, black overlay bra, black silk panties, a black garter belt with sheer hose, and black heels. My long, naturally red hair was pulled back on one side by a large flower; the rest was loose and wavy, flowing down my back and one shoulder. My creamy white skin, red lips, and smoky eyes made me look almost like a sexy vamp. “You ready, Angel?” Sid asked, pounding on the door. “Showtime,” I whispered before opening the door. “You look beautiful; I’m going to take you in there and introduce you before heading out.” “Sure.” I followed him down the hall to the club. The Lion’s Den is well-known in the area for its exclusivity. The walls are painted a dark brown, and the booths are designed into the walls, making the space feel intimate. The stage is in the center of the room, with a single spotlight shining down on it. Every booth has a girl assigned to it, and VIP has two girls. We aren’t allowed to interact with the customers without being asked directly to do so. The club is less of a strip club, and more of a place for men to hangout and drink while having beautiful women tend to them. If they choose to, they can watch the girl in the center of the room put on a show. I had been on stage several times in the three years I’ve worked here. I never told Sid I didn’t like it up there, but he normally put me in VIP, or assigned me to a booth for the night. “Why are you so worried about these guys?” “They’re thinking about opening up a Lion’s Den in one of the new casinos they’re building.” “That’s huge! Congrats, honey.” I squeezed his bicep and gave him a smile. “One day, Angel, I’m gonna take you away from this place and show you happiness. I wanna see that smile everyday.” My heart did a little thud. Sid is a very attractive man, but he’s not for me. I don’t want or need a man; they get you all discombobulated, filling your head with a bunch of lies then expect you to follow them around. I did that once. I thought a man was going to save me from the hell I was living in. I gave him my virginity and my heart, and he gave me a child I wasn’t allowed to keep and a heart so broken nothing or no one would ever put it back together again. I looked through the two-way mirror at the men around the table in the VIP room. “All right,” Sid says from beside me, “the man in the center at the table is John Barbato; he is the owner of three of the largest clubs in the city. The guy there on his left is Steven Creo; he’s some big wig on Wall Street and has backed more than half the new clubs and casinos opening on The Strip. The guy to the right of John has a location they’re interested in purchasing.” “Got it. Who’s working with me?” I asked him. “Tessa, Mick said she would be the best out of the girls we’ve got on the schedule tonight.” “I’m sure he did,” I mumbled, looking back into the room. “What other bouncers are on tonight?” I hated when Mick and Craig worked together; they were both more concerned about hooking up with the girls than what was going on out on the floor. “Link’s here now.” “Good.” Link was a good guy and a close friend. He also took his job seriously. “All right, let me introduce you quickly before I head out.” “Sure.” I followed him into the room; the men’s heads turned in our direction smiling. “Guys, I want you to meet Angel. She’s gonna be your girl for the night. You need anything, you ask her, and she will make sure you’re taken care of,” Sid tells them, gesturing to me. “Nice to meet you,” one of the men said, smiling while the others nodded. “Nice to meet you.” I smiled back. “Angel will be right back; give me a minute guys.” “Sure,” the one that spoke before said. As Sid and I stepped away, I heard from behind me, “Do you think the curtains match the drapes?” and they all laughed. I hated that saying, and I swore once I was free of this lifestyle, I would kick the next man in the nuts who said it. “Okay, I gotta head out. I won’t be back for two weeks,” Sid said once we were standing in the hall. “Have a safe trip.” His eyes searched my face. His mouth opened and closed like he was going to say something, but instead, he shook his head, kissed my cheek, and walked off down the hall muttering something under his breath. Tessa came around the corner a couple seconds later with a smug smile on her face. I hate to admit it, but she is beautiful. Her skin has a natural glow that makes her look healthy and youthful. Her hair is black and thick, reaching the top of her ass. Her eyes curve out at the corners, showing off her Asian-American heritage. “You ready?” she asked, looking at me from head to toe. I avoided rolling my eyes at her before stepping into the room behind her. After we took the first orders, we stood back while the men talked. I learned a long time ago to zone myself out. We were there as eye candy and nothing else. There was a knock on the door, and I knew the drinks had arrived. Tessa answered it, opening the door wide, and the man who brought the tray in was someone I had never seen before. He looked to be mid-thirties, had long, shaggy black hair, and brown eyes. When he set the tray down on the table in the corner, he turned and did something odd that had me watching him more closely. His hand went to his back as he looked over at the men who were still busy talking. When his eyes came to me, he smiled before walking out of the room. I looked at Tessa to see if she had noticed anything strange, but she was busy handing out the drinks and flirting with the men at the table. We stood to the side again once the men had their drinks; every once in a while, they would ask me a question about the club, and I told them what I knew. About thirty minutes after they had their first drinks, I called and had more ordered. This time, when the guy came in, he did the same thing—hand at his back, looking at the table. I had no idea who he was, but planned to find out as soon as the men left. One of the men received a phone call and stepped out of the room, and when he returned, he had another man with him. They all sat down, and this time when they called me over, they wanted a bottle of Chives Regal Royal Salute Scotch. One glass of the stuff cost close to six hundred dollars, making it over ten thousand dollars for a bottle. I placed the order and waited for it to be delivered. When the knock sounded on the door, I opened it up, and the same man from earlier came in and set the tray down. I watched to see if he would do the same thing he had done the previous times. Sure enough, his head turned towards the table and his hand lifted behind his back, but this time, he lifted his jacket, pulling out something black. It took a second for me to realize what it was, and by that time, it was too late. He let off four rounds in rapid succession, then turned and fired a round, hitting Tessa. I screamed as he turned the gun on me, and before I could think, I ducked down and ran as fast as I could out of the room. I felt a bullet whiz past me as I turned the corner, and another as I entered the main part of the club. I spotted Mick; right away his eyes got wide and I yelled at the top of my lungs, “HE HAS A GUN!” Everyone started screaming and running in every direction. I ran into a solid wall, and when I looked up to see it was Link, he wrapped an arm around my waist, turned, and pushed me behind the bar. I stumbled in my heels, falling to my knees and hitting the ground hard. I crawled under the counter and curled myself into a ball, shaking out of fear for my life. I listened as people screamed, but didn’t hear anymore gunshots. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but it felt like forever until I heard police sirens. “Autumn,” Link called my real name, snapping me out of my terrified huddle. I peeked out from behind my hands as he crouched down in front of me. “Did you get him?” He shook his head, putting out his hand for me to take. I shook my head no—I was safe; I didn’t want to move from that spot. “Come on, Angel, he’s gone.” I shook my head again. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise you’re safe.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, squeezing my eyes closed. “Tessa?” I asked him. His eyes closed and his head dropped forward. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No.” “Sorry, Angel,” he said quietly. “Why?” “Not sure, but the cops are here. I need you to come out of there so you can talk to them,” he told me gently, holding out his hand again. I nodded, reluctantly taking it. Even though I didn’t like Tessa, she didn’t deserve what happened to her. None of the people in the room deserved what happened to them. “I should have tried to help her.” “Nothing you could have done,” Link said, and my eyes went from to the floor to his. He shook his head, wrapped his beefy arm around my shoulders, and walked me over to a barstool. I sat there until the cops came up a few minutes later and told me they needed to talk to me at the station. “Can she get some clothes on?” Link—who had given me the shirt off his back and hadn’t left my side—asked one of the detectives. “Sure,” the guy mumbled. I slid off the barstool and dazedly walked to the dressing room. When I walked in, all the girls were there, huddled together and crying. I didn’t know what to say to them; most of them had been friends with Tessa. I felt horrible they had lost their friend, but was unsure if they would want me to express my condolences. I walked to my locker and started to pull off my stockings when one of the girls came up to me, wrapping her arms around me. Shocked, I hugged her back, and more of the girls gathered around me. We all stood there silently for a few minutes; most of the girls were crying while a couple mumbled about how everything would be okay. I wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again; I just watched five people die and was lucky to still be alive. “I have to go with the police,” I told the girls when it didn’t seem like they were going to let me go. After a second, they all started breaking away from me one-by-one, giving me reassuring hugs. “Call me if you want to talk,” one of the girls, Elsa, said, handing me a business card with her personal information on it. I looked at it for a long second before nodding. I had never really been friends with any of them. Maybe that needed to change. I went to my locker, pulling off my clothes before slipping on a pair of jean shorts, a black tank top, a large, oversized grey sweater, and a pair of black flip-flops. I grabbed my bag, shoved everything into it from my locker, and left the room without a backwards glance. Link was waiting for me outside the dressing room door, his back against the wall, his head tilted back, looking at the ceiling. I had known Link since I started working at The Lion’s Den. He was a nice guy, blonde hair cut low to his head, tan skin, blue eyes, and a southern drawl that made women fall to their knees. He used to flirt with me when I first started, but when I didn’t return any of the banter, he laid off and became a friend. He’s one of the only people who knows about my past and the things I’ve gone through. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” I told him, pulling my bag across my body. “I’m not letting you go through this alone.” He pulled me into his side. I could feel tears sting my eyes, and I fought them back. I wasn’t going to cry until this was all over, when I could do it alone, hiding under my covers with my face stuffed into a pillow…like I always did. “Thank you.” He gave me a squeeze, and I felt his lips at the top of my head. *~*~* “I don’t understand why I have to leave the state,” I told Link, putting another pair of shoes in my bag. I had no idea how long I would be gone, and Link made it sound like I wouldn’t be able to come back to Vegas for a long while. “Angel, I hate to remind you, but you’re the only witness, and from what the cops said, the guy is a killer paid by the mob to do hits on people.” I sighed, looking around my house. I hated I was leaving, but knew it was for the best. I was at the police station for over eight hours going over what happened then sitting with a sketch artist. Somehow, the guy who had shot Tessa and those men had avoided every camera in the club. The cops informed me I needed to be extra cautious. I was the only witness, and they were concerned he would come after me. When Link found out what they said, he made a call to one of his friends from back home in Tennessee and asked if he would be willing to let me stay with him until the police caught the guy. The man, Kenton, agreed, telling Link I would be safe. I hated I was leaving my home, but if my only options were either death or moving, the choice was begrudgingly clear. “I hope they get the guy fast,” I mumbled. “Me too, but until then, you will be far away from here where your safe.” “Are you sure it’s a good idea to have me stay with this guy? I mean, how well do you really know him?” “We were best friends growing up. He’s a good guy; you’ll be safe with him.” I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded before going into the closet to get another suitcase. Might as well pack enough stuff to last me. Once I was all packed and ready to go, we got into Link’s SUV and headed for the airport. I was nervous the whole way, feeling like something crazy was about to happen… Today “Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re about twenty minutes out from our arrival destination. The weather in Nashville is mostly clear and sunny; the temperature is eighty-five degrees. The pilot has now turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. Flight crew, please prepare for landing,” I hear through my sleep-ridden state and lift my head from the wall where I had rested it. I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater before looking around to see everyone is putting their belongings away. I make sure my seatbelt is secure before sitting back. My leg starts bouncing up and down quickly, and I rub the tattoo behind my ear, trying to think about something other than the plane landing. Once we are on the ground, I wait until everyone is off the plane to make my way out into the terminal. I go to baggage claim and look around, but I have no clue what this guy looks like. All I know is that his name is Kenton, and he is supposed to be picking me up. I don’t see anyone who looks like they’re searching for someone, so I go to the conveyer belt and spot one of my bags as soon as I get there. I pull it off, stumbling back slightly from the weight, as every guy here just watches me without offering to help. I look around again, wondering if I’m supposed to call someone to tell them I landed. I pull my phone out, click it off airplane mode, and send a text to Link letting him know I had arrived. He sends me a message back letting me know Kenton had called and told him he couldn’t make it to pick me up, and I should just catch a cab to his house; the door would be unlocked. I shake my head, cursing under my breath, and almost miss one of my other bags going around the belt. Luckily, I catch it at the last second. I carry it over to my other bag, and turn around just in time to see my last bag about to go through the tunnel. I run as fast as I can in my flip flops, and land half-on the conveyor belt, my bottom-half being dragged along the floor as I grab the handle of my bag, pulling it back so hard it flies over my head, causing me to land on my back with my hands over my head. “You must be Autumn,” I hear rumbled from above me. I tilt my head back and look up at the man standing over me. He’s upside-down, but even from my awkward position, he is good looking. His chuckle makes me grit my teeth though, and I stand up, putting my bag on its wheels before turning back to face him. “You are?” He raises a brow to me, shaking his head, looking me over from head to toe. My body heats immediately under his gaze. I take my sweater off, wrapping it around my waist and clearing my throat. “You are?” I ask him again, getting annoyed that he’s obviously finding this so funny if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. “Kenton.” He smiles. “Those bags yours?” He nods towards my other two bags. “Yes.” I blow some hair out of my face, looking into his blue eyes and wondering why the hell I feel so hot all of a sudden. He looks away, going over to my bags while I take the time to look him over. He’s tall—much taller than my five-five. His hair touches the edge of the black t-shirt he has on. He needed a cut a while ago, but judging by the dark scruff along his jaw, I can tell he doesn’t care much about grooming. His shoulders are broad, tapering down to a lean waist; his thighs are thick, incased in a pair of dark jeans that have shredded around the bottom by his heels, and his wallet is imprinted in the back pocket like he wears them often. I look at his ass as he leans over. I can’t believe I’m checking a man out; I’m not one to be the slightest bit sexually interested in anyone. My eyes travel lower, looking at his feet, which are enclosed in a very large pair of black boots. I wonder absently if what they say is true about shoe size. I shake my head at my thoughts, dragging my bag with me towards him. “I thought you couldn’t make it,” I tell him when I reach his side. My head tilts back to look up into his eyes. “Yeah, change of plans,” he mutters, looking at me. I wait to see if he’s going to say anything else. Apparently, he isn’t going to, so I shake my head again and lower my face towards the ground. “You tired?” His voice is dark and rich, and does something crazy to my insides. I nod, lifting my head. “Let’s roll; you can sleep when we reach the house.” I don’t say anything else. Something is wrong with me; maybe I’m getting sick. I follow him out of the terminal into the car park. When we reach the parking lot, he stops and pulls a set of keys from his pocket. I hear the beep and look around, expecting him to be driving a large truck, a Hummer, or maybe even a tank. I never expected him to be driving a Dodge Viper, the black-on-black of the car only making it look hotter. I look at my bags, wondering how we will get them in the car. “It’ll be tight, but they’ll fit,” he mumbles, pulling my other two bags with him. I can’t help noticing the flex of his muscles as he gets my bags into the car, or the fact even his fingers are attractive. It takes some maneuvering, but he does get my bags to fit. I sigh, sitting down on the warm leather once we’re done. “I’m just gonna drop you off at the house. I gotta head out for a bit, but you have free rein. Just make yourself at home; there’s food in the fridge, and fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room.” “Thank you for doing this,” I tell him, looking at his profile. He is seriously good looking, and the butterflies in my stomach are making me feel anxious about staying with him. “Don’t mention it. So…you and Link?” It took a second to decipher his words between the thickness of his accent, his smell, and the nervous energy I was feeling. Being in his presence, my brain seemed to have shut down. “He’s a friend.” Shit, maybe I should have said he was my boyfriend. I looked over at him again; he didn’t seem to be as on edge as I was. He was probably used to women swooning over him. My gut tightened with something, and it took a second to realize what it was. My body froze. Jealousy, really? I must be going into shock or something—I don’t get jealous. “How’d you two meet?” “We work at the same club,” I murmured, squirming in my seat. “Oh yeah,” he mumbled, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel. I didn’t know what that meant, but the energy in the car changed, making me want to get away from him. We drove in silence for the next half-hour, the car winding its way through one small town after another until we went up what seemed like the side of a mountain. The area was surrounded by forest on either side of the road. We drove for about five minutes more before turning onto a dirt road that took us deeper into the forest. I wanted to ask if he lived out here and about where he worked, and a million other questions, but my mouth had gone dry, and the energy in his car hadn’t gotten any better, so I decided to keep my mouth shut. I was going to be stuck with him for a while, so I figured there would be time for all of that later. I looked ahead of us, and squinted as the image of a large house came into view. It was a very large brick house; the front had two porches, one on the first floor, one on the second, and both wrapped around the front of the house. It was beautiful and expansive. I looked over at Kenton again, gaging if I should ask him if this was his house. His jaw was ticking, and the vein in his neck was pulsing wildly. I had no idea what had set him off, but figured my best bet was to sit there quietly until he calmed down. We parked in front of the house, where there was no real designated parking place. He unfolded himself out of the car without saying anything, and I took that as my cue to follow him. By the time I made it to the back of the car, he had both of my bags out and was back on the driver’s side, sliding his seat forward so he could get to the bag in the backseat. Without a word, he carried two of my bags up the front porch and right into the house. I dragged my last bag with me, following close behind him. He set my bags down at the bottom of the staircase, then turned to look at me. “Your room is at the top of the stairs to the right. There’s a bathroom across the hall you can use; I have my own.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked me over again, anger apparent on his face. “I don’t want random men in my house, so if you need to get off, take care of yourself.” I blinked at him as he continued. “The code for the alarm is 4593; don’t forget to set it when you’re in the house. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but you’ll be safe here.” Before I even had a chance to form a complete thought, he was closing the door behind him, shouting, “Set the alarm.” I stood there for a few minutes, just looking at the door, then I looked around for an alarm, but didn’t see one. Tears stung my nose again as I recalled the look of disgust on his face when he told me to get myself off. I said a silent, “Fuck you,” and looked at my bags then the stairs, shaking my head—I could cry once I got settled in the room. I carried my bags up the stairs one at a time, and by the time I was done, I was so exhausted that I laid face first on the bed, put my head under the pillow, and cried until I fell asleep. There was a pounding on the door, and I rolled, falling off the bed and onto the floor. “You didn’t set the alarm,” I heard growled. I stood up, pushing my hair out of my face, glaring at Kenton, who stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “I looked and didn’t see the alarm to set it.” I copied his posture, crossing my arms over my chest. “You should have called and asked me where it was.” I scoffed. “With what magic? I don’t have your number.” “You could have asked Link for it.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but if you wanted me to have your number, I figured you would have given it to me,” I retorted. “Did you eat?” he asked, changing the subject suddenly and throwing me off-guard. “Pardon?” “Did you eat something?” “No, and I’m not hungry; I’m just really tired,” I told him, rubbing my face. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about the last forty-eight hours. “You need to eat something,” he chided, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his hips. “Okay, don’t get me wrong; I’m really thankful for you looking out for me, but I have been taking care of myself for a very long time. I don’t want nor need a babysitter.” “Suit yourself.” He shrugged then looked me over again, his eyes lingering on my chest. I glanced down and groaned. Seriously? My boobs were in my bra, hanging over the top of my tank-top. I quickly adjusted my shirt before narrowing my eyes on him. He smirked, looking up into my face. “Make sure you set the alarm from now on. The panel is inside the room off the entry, first door to the right.” “Got it.” My body was doing that hot thing again, and I wondered why it kept happening when he was around. “All right, doll, get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He let his eyes linger on me for a few moments more, and then shook his head, stepping out of the room. I went to the side of the bed and turned on the light before walking to the door and shutting it. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply. I ran a finger across my tattoo behind my ear before opening my eyes and looking around. I could do this; I had lived through much worse and came out on top. I just needed to get a plan in place.
ASSUMPTION.jpg
assumption teaser.jpgassumption 3d.jpg

Additional Books by Aurora Rose Reynolds
Until Series


Until November (Book 1)
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1k2XK31


Until Trevor (Book 2)
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1iWBUQK


Until Lily (Book 3)
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1pzOdYk


Until Nico (Book 4)

About the Author:
aurora bio.jpg
Aurora Rose Reynolds is a navy brat who's husband served in the United States Navy. She has lived all over the country but now resides in New York City with her Husband and pet fish. She's married to an alpha male that loves her as much as the men in her books love their women. He gives her over the top inspiration everyday. In her free time she reads, writes and enjoys going to the movies with her husband and cookie. She also enjoys taking mini weekend vacations to nowhere, or spends time at home with friends and family. Last but not least she appreciates everyday and admires it's beauty.


THANK YOU!

Saturday, July 12, 2014

THE OBSIDIAN COLLECTION Nine authors. Nine dark-love novellas BLOG TOUR

The Obsidian Collection Blog Tour Banner Synopsis 
  THE OBSIDIAN COLLECTION Nine authors. Nine dark-love novellas. The wicked have never looked so good... Obsidian Escape by Rebel Adams Just one look at the battered form of Whitney Geddings awakens a fierce protective instinct in Detective Jackson Ogden...but at what price? Obsidian Liquor by Scarlett Dawn Reporter, Elizabeth Forter, never expected one drunken challenge to leave her sexually satisfied and waking beside Daniil - the head of the Russian mafia. Obsidian Faith by Bev Elle Shanice Bailey’s epic faith in Trevor Kyle, the man she’s loved since they were both wards at the Baptist Children's Home, is shaken when his sketchy foster father shows up on their honeymoon. Obsidian Heart by Nicole Flockton Will Erika's holiday fling with Brandt bring him out of the shadows, or is his heart destined for darkness? Obsidian Sky by Lara Henley When military man, Brandon Michaels, comes home to a town he no longer recognizes, his salvation may rest in Arabella Knight, a woman who has secrets that no one knows. Obsidian Ice by Missy Johnson Medical intern Cam Fletcher knew becoming a surgeon would be hard work, but what he wasn't counting on was falling for his mentor - cocky surgeon Eric Langdon. Obsidian Jewel by Angel Lawson Professional thieves, competitors, and occasional lovers, Maya Clarke and Malcolm Kent, must work together for the job of a lifetime and try not to kill one another while doing it. Obsidian Desire by t.h. snyder Can one chivalrous act change Tyler Jones, a coldhearted man, or will desire burn through his soul and change him forever? Obsidian Beauty by Emily Walker Out of jail and finally ready to confront the man who left her there to rot, Abigail Rivers is upset to learn Benton Sellers has moved on with no regard for the sacrifices she has made for him.

REVIEW

This was my first anthology read and I’ll tell ya, I can’t wait to pick up a couple more. What a wonderful idea to bring together a bunch of authors with different writing styles to one book… awesomesauce! I am not going to do individual reviews of each book/novella that was in this collection but in a nutshell the whole collection itself was a 4 star read.
There were a couple of stories in the collection that were so good, I couldn’t put the book down and a couple that I found a little slower to get into, but all in all, they were all great reads. My favorite part of reading this anthology was being able to read from authors that I haven’t had the pleasure of trying before and now I will be looking for in the future!  The writing styles and stories from each author was different and refreshing. I enjoyed that the most.
So if you are looking for a great read with with a dark-love twist, The Obsidian Collection is a great anthology for you to try! I am definitely looking forward to the next collection and more from each author introduced in the collection.
Obsidian Escape by Rebel Adams
Obsidian Liquor by Scarlett Dawn.
Obsidian Faith by Bev Elle
Obsidian Heart by Nicole Flockton
Obsidian Sky by Lara Henley
Obsidian Ice by Missy Johnson
Obsidian Jewel by Angel Lawson
Obsidian Desire by t.h. snyder
Obsidian Beauty by Emily Walker

Reviewed by Tonya Nichols @ Eye Candy Bookstore

Meet the Author
Rebel Adams is writer and lover of good prose, better cigars, well-aged whiskey and fine women-- and not always in that order. Website | Facebook | Twitter

Scarlett Dawn is the author of the Forever Evermore new adult fantasy series, which include King Hall and King Cave. She lives in the Midwest, where she loves to 'people watch' and daydream. She adores her music loud and her fries covered in melted cheese.

Bev Elle is the author of sweet and spicy, contemporary romance. She’s a lover of books–those already written, and those she harbors in her very active imagination. Writing is a passion she’s had for many years, but was unable to act upon. Until now. Bev Elle is the mother of three human children and two canines. She is also the lover of one husband. When Bev isn’t writing in her spare time after work, she is thinking of doing so. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Nicole Flockton is an Australian living in Texas. Nicole writes sexy contemporary romances which seduce you one kiss at a time. She enjoys taking two characters and creating unique situations for them. When she's not busy writing, she's attempting to keep up with two active children and a busy husband. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

 Lara Henley is originally from Oklahoma, but has lived in several places. She began writing in 2009 when she had a dream about a little girl traveling with her grandmother. That is how Jessie Discovers Christmas was born. She then ventured into YA and adult romance. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Fashion Marketing and a Masters in Administrative Leadership. She loves all things creative and aspires to have a fulltime writing career. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Missy Johnson in a small town in Central Victoria, Australia, with her husband and her confused pets (a dog who think she's a cat, a cat who thinks he's a dog...you get the picture). When she's not writing, she can usually be found looking for something to read. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Angel Lawson lives with her family in Atlanta and has a lifelong obsession with creating fiction from reality, either with paint or words. On a typical day you can find her writing, reading, plotting her escape from the zombie apocalypse and trying to get the glitter out from under her nails. She is the author of five books, including the Wraith Series, Serial Summer, FanGirl, and Vigilant. She is the co-author of the New Adult Paranormal book, Odin's Murder with Kira Gold. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

t.h. snyder is a 34 y/o single mom of two amazing kids. She lives in Central PA where she works full time for a local business/technical school. Writing wasn't something she ever thought she'd be doing, but here she is. t. h. snyder started reading like a nut after Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey. Since then she's read over 300 romance and paranormal books. In June of 2013, she decided to try her go at writing. She had a vision and went with it....hence Touch Me. To date she's published 6 books and now 2 anthologies...The Touch Series (NA Romance), Pierced Love (YA Romance), Cursed Love, Cursed #1 (Erotic Romance), My Dirty Little Valentine, and the Obsidian Collection. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Emily Walker loves creating worlds and stumbling around in them. She is constantly losing her chap-stick, and has an obsession with the color pink. Currently a resident of the mountains and loving the view, she writes mostly paranormal fiction and horror. Her small family consists of her red bearded other half, a rat terrier named Rebel, and a cat named Mr. Creepy. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Book Trailer


Buy the Book

The Obsidian Collection Cover
Not yet released
Amazon FinalAmazon UK FinalB&N FINALkobo-icon FINAL
FB button FINAL
goodreads-badge-add-plus-d700d4d3e3c0b346066731ac07b7fe47
Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway
Follow the Tour
June 30
July 1
July 2
July 3
July 7
July 8
July 9
July 10
July 11
July 12

The Obsidian Collection Blog Tour Button

promotionsbutton with TRIM