Friction by Sapphire Knight
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A Shot of Bourbon by A.C Land
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Thursday, March 31, 2016
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Out of the Ashes
Release Date: March 22, 2016
Genre: YA paranormal
Tagline: Can history repeat itself if you can’t remember your past?
Seventeen-year-old Cara Tillman’s worst nightmare has come true…
She’s been reborn as a Phoenix and has forgotten everything from her first life—including Logan Schmidt.
He’s handsome and protective, but with no recollection, he can’t be trusted.
Accused of being a Hunter, Logan’s mortality is put to the test…
Logan isn’t willing to admit he and Cara are over—not even after he watches her rise from her own
ashes.
While the other Phoenixes are convinced Logan is a sworn enemy, a group of deadly Hunters are sure he is a
Phoenix. Only being guilty of loving Cara, he must prove them all wrong—and convince Cara she loves
him.
However, a magical link may be the demise of Logan’s devotion…
With the Hunters hot on their heels, it’s up to Logan to save Cara. But when the dagger calls out, Logan is
drawn to its power.
Cara’s missing memories may not be the only obstacle standing between her and Logan. Their relationship
isn’t just complicated—it’s deadly. And when Cara finds herself at a crossroad, she is forced to
choose…
She can plunge into the darkness of her treacherous fate, or use her Phoenix instincts to once again rise
Out of The Ashes.
EXCERPT
Within minutes, everyone is yelling. It feels like it’s all my fault. If only I could remember what happened at
the school. Before I woke up in Logan’s arms, all that’s there is a vague memory of Mom, Jeremy, and the
other Phoenixes. No actual memories. Only names and faces.
“We all need to calm down,” Linette says, taking a seat on the couch. “Yelling isn’t going to solve anything.
We can’t even hear each other.”
“She’s right.” Mom pats my head like I’m a toddler. I guess I am in this life, but I’m still physically
seventeen.
I step away, not wanting to touch anyone right now. I know she’s my mom, but she’s just as much a stranger
to me as this Logan guy is. He said he loves me. Is that true? Or is he another Hunter, preying on me because
I’m a newborn Phoenix? So many questions. That’s all I have, and it’s making my head hurt.
Logan scans the room. “Is anybody going to let me tell you what happened?”
Garret is standing at his side, apparently not willing to let Logan get more than two feet away from him. “I’m
sure that would be very entertaining,” Garret says.
“Let him talk.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth. Everyone turns to me, and one corner of
Logan’s mouth curves up. I look away, not sure how to act around him. Hell, I don’t know how to act at all.
Thank God we only forget everything after our first rebirth because I couldn’t take going through this three
more times before I die. If a Hunter doesn’t kill me before I live all five of my lives, that is.
Mom reaches for me, but I take a deep breath and shake my head. “I’m fine. I want to hear what Logan has
to say. He was there with me. He didn’t hurt me when I woke up in his arms, so I think I owe it to him to
hear him out.”
6 Out of the Ashes by Kelly Hashway | Sizzling PR
“You don’t owe anything to a Hunter, Cara,” Garret spits out.
Mom shoots him a look. “Garret, that isn’t helping.”
Logan starts toward me, and Garret grabs him.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” Logan asks, sounding equally frustrated and heartbroken. “I’m
handcuffed, my palms are burned to crisps, and the last time I checked, I’m the only human in a room full of
Phoenixes.”
Part of me wants to laugh because it sounds crazy, but so does burning to ashes and rising up out of them.
Yet, here I am.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kelly Hashway grew up reading R.L. Stein’s Fear Street novels and writing stories of her own, so it was no
surprise to her family when she majored in English and later obtained a masters degree in English Secondary
Education from East Stroudsburg University. After teaching middle school language arts for seven years,
Hashway went back to school and focused specifically on writing. She is now the author of three young adult
series, one middle grade series, and several picture books. She also writes contemporary romance under the
pen name Ashelyn Drake. When she isn’t writing, Hashway works as a freelance editor for small presses as
well as for her own list of clients. In her spare time, she enjoys running, traveling, and volunteering with the
PTO. Hashway currently resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, and two pets.
OTHER BOOK IN THE SERIES
BOOK 1: INTO THE FIRE
Love Unexpected
Love
Unexpected
(Navy Love Series, #2)
JC
Santo
Sometimes the
unexpected things in life turn out to be the most worthwhile.
Tegan Daniels is a
twenty-one year old college student and a hopeless romantic. She knows her prince
charming will eventually find her one day. Someone must be playing a warped joke on her
when he comes into her life; Her perfect man with one huge character flaw---he despises
love.
Charles Reed has
never been a commitment type of man, except when it comes to his loyalty to the U.S.
Navy. When a close friend’s sister moves to town he starts doubting his phobia of
relationships. What he doesn't expect is for her innocence to make him question everything
in his life and from his past.
He never
anticipated a girl like her would come into his life. She never thought she’d have to convince
her dream man to give them a shot.
Sometimes the
things we want most, require the most fighting for. Love is something unwanted by him and
something desired by her; Neither expect to fall for the other.
Will this unexpected love end in their happily ever after?
ONCE LINKS ARE LIVE WE WILL
SEND.
Sometimes the things we fight hardest against are inevitable in the end.
Hunter Stevenson wasn't interested in wasting nights with bed warmers, he had a
daughter to take care of and a life to build. Leaving behind the mother of his four year old
child and her incessant partying, Hunter moves closer to his family to help provide Sawyer
some stability.
Tessa Daniels didn’t share the ‘typical American dream’ like most girls. A
husband, 2.5 kids and a white picket fence weren’t the things she wanted for herself. She
had a plan laid out, which included a career in the Navy and being surrounded by her best
friends. She was perfectly content with her carefree, fun lifestyle and her casual
relationships, but all of that changed when she met him.
What neither of them expected was a nosy brother and best friend with some
serious matchmaking skills. The two have an instantaneous pull towards one another, they
can’t fight the spark even though they both do. Until one drunken night, Tessa
throws herself at Hunter, only to face an agonizing rejection. However, Hunter’s
gentlemanly facade doesn’t last with the sassy sailor girl, his alpha attitude quickly emerges
in the midst of their sexual tensions.
Hunter refuses to be another one of Tessa’s casual hook-ups, and won’t allow her to
run away from the idea of ‘them’. No matter how many obstacles stand in their way of a
happily ever after. Now he must convince Tessa that their inevitable love is worth fighting
for.
Can their newfound love survive the stress of an impending deployment and
Hunter's past pushing it's way back into his life?
JC Santo a true southern girl born and raised a
in Central Texas. When she met her husband who is in the U.S. Navy they had to relocate to
Norfolk, Virginia. That's where she has been for the past 5 years being a wife and stay at
home mom to 3 boys. In the rare occurrences she gets free time it's usually spent reading a
good book. Three things she will never turn away cupcakes, tattoos and arbor mist! Lol you
have to sound like Morgan Freeman!
Above Protection
Title: Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes
#1)
Author: C.J. Pinard
Release Date: March 30, 2016
Find on Goodreads
He's bearded, angry, highly trained, and has a job to do.
She's the damsel in distress who's smarter than she looks, and doesn't want anyone's help.
Could it be they both need something neither will admit to? Fate fueled by the laws of attraction may just decide for them.
DUKE
I didn’t ask for this. I was just doing my job, and they have the nerve to put me on a Witness Protection detail? This is crap. I’ll do my assignment, then go back to my job and what I love – kicking ass and taking names. I hadn’t spent 6 years in the Marine Corps to be put on babysitting duty once I’d joined the FBI. The witness they assigned me to, Rayanne, is an annoying, brainless blonde with a sassy mouth and a body that belongs on a website you have to pay to access. Not that I noticed or anything.
RAYANNE
I can look after myself. I don’t need anyone’s help, and the government is being ridiculous for putting me in the Witness Protection Program. I'll testify against my former bosses and then go back to my life as a single girl in the big city. I love my career as a paralegal, and once this Neanderthal they’d assigned to babysit me is out of my life, I'll go back to it. I just wish he wasn’t so easy on the eyes. The beard, hard body, and that voice. Why couldn’t they have sent me someone ugly – and nice? Because Duke is neither of those things.
ABOVE PROTECTION is book 1 in the Imperfect Heroes Series. For readers 18+.
She's the damsel in distress who's smarter than she looks, and doesn't want anyone's help.
Could it be they both need something neither will admit to? Fate fueled by the laws of attraction may just decide for them.
DUKE
I didn’t ask for this. I was just doing my job, and they have the nerve to put me on a Witness Protection detail? This is crap. I’ll do my assignment, then go back to my job and what I love – kicking ass and taking names. I hadn’t spent 6 years in the Marine Corps to be put on babysitting duty once I’d joined the FBI. The witness they assigned me to, Rayanne, is an annoying, brainless blonde with a sassy mouth and a body that belongs on a website you have to pay to access. Not that I noticed or anything.
RAYANNE
I can look after myself. I don’t need anyone’s help, and the government is being ridiculous for putting me in the Witness Protection Program. I'll testify against my former bosses and then go back to my life as a single girl in the big city. I love my career as a paralegal, and once this Neanderthal they’d assigned to babysit me is out of my life, I'll go back to it. I just wish he wasn’t so easy on the eyes. The beard, hard body, and that voice. Why couldn’t they have sent me someone ugly – and nice? Because Duke is neither of those things.
ABOVE PROTECTION is book 1 in the Imperfect Heroes Series. For readers 18+.
Amazon | Barnes &
Noble | Kobo | iBooks
From the corner of my eye, I
watched Duke leave the kitchen. After I’d put the meat and sauce into a skillet and stirred it, I
added the spices. The water began to boil, so I opened the box and pulled out a handful of stiff
spaghetti. I broke it over the sink into thirds, then dumped it into the boiling water, adding a few shakes
of salt.
I glanced once again at the
doorway to the kitchen and saw Duke was long gone. Biting my lip, I reached up into the cabinet and
moved the remaining spices aside. I grinned as my fingers wrapped around the bottle of Jim Beam.
Chancing a glance once again at the kitchen entryway, I looked back down at the bottle. I slowly twisted
off the metal lid and carefully brought the bottle up to my nose and inhaled – which was quickly
followed up by a cough.
Whew, that’s potent
stuff! Shouldn’t take more than a shot or two to relax me. This guy, this cabin, this whole entire
bizarre situation had me on edge. I just needed a little something to take that edge
off.
I searched the cabinets but
did not find any shot glasses. I poured a small measure into a beveled green glass that looked like it
belonged in the 70s. I stared at the amber liquid for a long time before working up the nerve to take a
sip.
A sip! my
subconscious teased me. Just shoot it, you wuss.
Lifting my shoulder in a
shrug, I tossed back the glass, wincing as the bourbon burned its way down my throat, warming my
belly. I slammed the glass on the counter and had to ball up my fist to keep from letting out a
whoop at the wonderful burn.
The sizzle of the skillet
captured my attention, and I stirred the sauce mixture again, turning down the heat as it was beginning
to splatter on the outdated yellow gas cooktop – and me.
The whole damn kitchen
was outdated. It looked like my grandmother’s growing up. Yellow and brown linoleum floors,
sparkly yellow and silver countertops, mustard-colored appliances. I giggled at the absurdity of this
kitchen, hell, this whole cabin, and then hiccupped. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I shook my head at
my silliness. Yet, I really wanted another shot of that bourbon.
Just one
more.
“Just one
more,” I said out loud.
Glancing again toward the
kitchen entryway and seeing no Duke, I poured another small amount and quickly shot it back, enjoying
the burn.
Smiling, I looked at the
boiling noodles, realizing I hadn’t set a timer and now had no idea how long they’d been
in the water for. The sauce was most certainly done.
Hiccup.
Cheese! I need cheese. I
always make cheesy spaghetti. I get compliments on my cheesy spaghetti!
Opening the fridge door, I
stared for a good, long minute, trying to remember why I’d opened the fridge. Then I spotted the
bag of already-grated cheese.
“Well, thank the
lawrd for pre-grated cheese,” I said, okay I think I slurred, in the most exaggerated Southern
accent ever. I already had a slight one, or so I’d been told, but now I just flat-out sounded like my
grand-mama from Mobile, Alabama. Bless her heart.
Hiccup.
I set the cheese on the
counter and poured more bourbon into the ugly-ass green glass. Was this glass or plastic? I tapped my
fingernail against it. Glass. I think. Cool. I grinned.
I slammed the liquid back
and quickly placed the glass in the sink. No more. I need to stop.
The water continued to boil.
Since I was already practically in her kitchen, I remembered Granny’s advice about spaghetti. So
with a shrug, I used the spoon to carefully remove a noodle. I inspected it close up, then, with all my
might, I chucked it against the wall behind the stove. It did stick, and I smiled in victory. My pasta was
good and cooked.
I turned off the burners to
both. As I was about to begin to look for a colander to drain the pasta, a voice made me
jump.
“What are you
doing?”
Blinking in surprise, I cocked
my head to the side and smiled. “Cooking.”
“Why are you
throwing pasta?” Duke asked, standing at the entryway to the kitchen looking way too
delicious.
“Um?” What
was I gonna say? Wait, what was the question?
Fuuuuck it. I’ll just
ignore him. I picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the sauce. Wait, what was I doing? I need to drain
the pasta. Did this kitchen even have a colander?
I didn’t know, so I
just stirred the sauce some more. Suddenly, a warm hand gripped my arm, then spun me around. I was
met with stormy blue eyes.
I giggled. “Hi,
Cowboy.”
He narrowed those
beautiful eyes at me. The dark lashes framing them were just too much. “I asked you a
question.”
Furrowing my eyebrows, I
said, “What was the question?”
I noticed the wooden spoon
was still in my hand and was dripping sauce all over the floor. As if in slow motion, I looked at the drips,
then the spoon, and without thinking, I brought it up to my mouth. My tongue snaked out and licked the
sauce, from the base to the tip of the spoon while I stared unblinking at Duke, waiting for him to tell me
what his question had been.
“Holy fuck,” I
heard him whisper, his eyes now fixated on my mouth.
I was suddenly acutely
aware of how his hard chest was almost pressed against mine. While one hand still held the spoon, the
other reached up. My fingertips grazed his rock-hard pec under his T-shirt. My eyes flicked back up to
his.
Before I could register what
was happening, his mouth crashed down onto mine, his right arm snaking around my waist and then
down to my ass, grabbing it with his strong hands, pushing my body into his.
Wait.
Duke was kissing me. What
the hell? He’s not supposed to kiss me! He’s a jerk. I don’t like him. I bit his lip
– hard. He pulled himself away from me, his thumb grazing his bottom lip.
“You bit me!”
he said, incredulous.
“You kissed
me!” I replied, as if I had to remind him.
He stared at me
dumbfounded for a few seconds, then said, “You were licking… you were ignoring me when
I asked… you were giggling… oh, my God. What the hell is
that?”
He reached around me and
picked up my bottle of bourbon, holding it up. “Where did you get this,
Blondie?”
I shrugged and
giggled.
Hiccup.
“My
spaghetti’s burning,” was all I said.
Turning my back on him
once again I began to rummage through the cabinets for something to drain the pasta in. I grinned as I
located a colander and placed it in the sink. Before I could pick up the heavy pot of water and noodles,
Duke spun me around and pinned me against the countertop. This time, he pressed his hard body into
mine, while shoving the booze bottle into my face.
“Where. Did. You.
Get. This?” he asked.
Jerking a thumb behind me
at the cabinet in which I was now pressed against, I said with a grin, “In there. You want
some?”
It didn’t go
unnoticed by me that he was pressing a very hard member of his body against my belly. I kinda liked it
though, and began to wonder what he was working with under those jeans.
He sighed and pushed off of
me, scrubbing a hand over his beard and storming out of the kitchen with my bottle of contraband in his
hand.
I'm a California girl living in land-locked Colorado. Lover of red wine, wearer
of fabulous shoes, and a die-hard Niner fan, I'm also an editor at heart. I've written over a
dozen books and short stories that contain both contemporary/new adult and paranormal romance that
are a little bit badass, a little heart-wrenching, and sorta funny (to me, anyway). Almost all my books
usually contain law enforcement or military undertones, since strong, brave, alpha men and women are
my weaknesses. When I'm not writing, I can be found working at a very strange day job, which may
or may not have some mild influences on my gripping stories - so strange, in fact, I think I'll write a
book about it one day.
I'm also a proud member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA).
I'm also a proud member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA).
