Friday, March 3, 2017

Ripple Effect (Episode 2) by Keri Lake

















Coming March 10th





































EPISODE TWO: As a calculated assassin, Ripley thrives on always being in control. But when the woman he’s sworn to kill makes an offer he can’t refuse, his control is what he risks losing most.




Ripley

They call me RIP.
I’m a killer. A murderer. A psychopath.
In the eyes of the righteous, I’m a monster, born of sin and depravity.
I want to protect her, but I’m not a good man.
I want to love her, but I no longer feel.
She gets under my skin, though, and has awakened something inside of me.
Something I’d kill for.
I’m not her savior—not even close. In fact, I’m worse than the hell she’s already suffered.
I’m her vengeance. Tit for tat, as they say.
And if she’s not careful, I’ll be her ruin.

Dylan

For months, I’ve watched him.
I’ve fantasized him as my savior, my lover. My ticket out of the hell I’ve lived in for the last six years.
I never dreamed he’d be my nightmare.
Had I known what he really is, I’d have never gotten in the car that night, but life is full of cause and effect.
And sometimes the choice on offer isn’t a choice at all.
It’s the result of something already in motion, and we’re merely left to survive the ripple effect.

*This is an erotic suspense/erotic romance not recommended for readers under the age of 18 due to graphic violence and sex.















Drip.  Drip.  Drip.
My mind fights the all-consuming blackness closing in on me as I lay on the thin mattress whose springs poke into my back.  The beams above me shiver with dust that falls on my face every time he walks overhead. Chains beat against the cement wall I’m tethered to with every tremble that wracks my body.
Drip.  Drip.  Drip.  
Somewhere water leaks an incessant pounding in my skull, and I count every drop.  Six hundred thirty-eight.  Six hundred thirty-nine.  Six hundred forty.  A cold, moldy scent invades my nose, and the cough that rattles my chest turns into a gag, staving off the impending black hole I’m being sucked inside.  
He stole my pills, and what feels like shards of broken glass rolling inside of my stomach keep me from falling asleep.  Not that I want to sleep.  Not that I could.  But I need to, because the pain is too much.  It claws my insides like a beast, desperate for escape, demanding more of the sweet venom, the nothingness that keeps it tucked deep inside of me.  Muscle spasms create a line of tension through my body, so taut, I feel like my limbs will snap away.  
“Help me!  Fucking help me!”  My words bounce back at me from the walls, all hoarse and scratchy as though I’ve been screaming for days.  Have I?  I’ve blacked out a few times, only to wake to that dripping noise and the incessant pain.
I’m sweating in spite of the frigid tendrils that snake beneath my skin like frost crystals.  My body shivers and sickness twists my insides into a nauseating roil, threatening to climb my throat any second.  
I need my pills.  
“Please!”  I turn my head in time to expel the bile shooting up my throat.  Fire trails behind it as the acids burn my nostrils with another heave.  Over and over, I choke, head slung awkwardly to the side as the fluids leak down my cheek.  A coughing fit steals my next breath and another round of bile splashes on the floor somewhere beside me.
An ache throbs in my skull as I lay back onto the bed and the churning in my stomach intensifies.  The sensation of bugs scampering across my arms jerks my muscles, and I shiver at the crawling of my skin.  I cry out, kicking against my binds.  “Get off of me! Get off!”  It doesn’t go away, though.  It intensifies, a nightmare come to life, and I’m certain there are spider legs beating against my flesh, digging, attempting to burrow themselves into my bones.  “Get off of me!  Oh God, get them off of me!”
Urgency tugs at my gut.  I need to use the bathroom more than I ever have and the panic sends me kicking and screaming.  Bloating in my stomach balloons and the pressure to release has me arching up off the mattress.  No, no, no.  Please not this.
I’m going to soil the goddamn bed and be forced to sleep in my own filth.
Everything flicks to blackness.
In dreams, I’m carried into a bathroom, my whole body quaking and jerking.  I want to get away, but comfort blankets me in the warmth of the stranger’s arms and the heat of his skin as I lay against his solid chest.  A harsh and blinding light beats down on me.  Focusing through the glare, I stare at a set of angel wings inked across his chest and a crisp orange scent that is both delicious and nauseating overwhelms my senses.  My stomach feels light when he sets me down and the heat washes over me in waves of bliss.  Soft cotton trails down my temple as he wipes a washcloth over my face.
He pushes the wet strands of hair from my eyes, and my breathing calms, as I stare into the multi-colored eyes of a monster.













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Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she's earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary, paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions distraction sucks her into the Land of Shiny Things.

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Ignite by Drew Elyse



















































Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.

Ace has been keeping secrets, and not just from his club brothers.
Secrets have a way of coming back to haunt you.
All of his are about to be revealed,
whether he’s ready to face them or not.

A Disciple will fight like a savage—even against his past.

When Quinn waltzes into the Disciples' clubhouse,
she's only after one thing—and it isn't Ace.
She wants closure, an end to what they started so long ago.
But with the heat exploding, Ace and Quinn are far from over.

When this biker is forced to confront his past, everything will ignite.















Quinn

After our ride, I was silently thrilled Ace brought us back to the house. Max was around, and I didn’t want to be a crappy friend who ditched her after she came all that way just to check on me.
When we walked in, Max and Ham were both there. I had no idea what to make of that, but with both the guys hanging around, I couldn’t ask. Instead, I was stuck agreeing to the invitation for us to order in pizza with them and chill.
“What on it?” Ham asked as Ace and I settled onto one of the couches.
“Pineapple,” Max responded.
Ham pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me you’re fuckin’ with me, babe,” he demanded.
She wasn’t. I knew this. In all our years of friendship, we’d never actually shared a pizza. It always came down to ordering two so I didn’t have to choke down the gross concoction she called pizza toppings.
“Just wait,” I warned Ham.
“What the fuck could be worse than pineapple on pizza?” Ace asked.
I looked at Max. “Tell them,” I said with a flick of my wrist, indicating she proceed.
“I like pineapple, olives, green pepper, and some kind of meat, but I’ll take whatever,” she stated, unabashed.
Ham blinked, stared at her, then blinked again. It seemed to drag out for a solid minute. Then he found the response of, “That’s the most disgusting fucking pizza order I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s good!” Max insisted.
“Toots, in what universe do pineapple and marinara go together?”
Did he just call her toots? He totally did. And it wasn’t in a funny, fifties throwback way. He just called her that by rote.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. I also don’t get sauce on it,” Max enlightened him.
“You get sauceless, pineapple, olive, green pepper, and mystery meat pizza?” Ham verified.
“Yep.”
Ham looked at me with what seemed to be a bit of concern on his face. “Where the hell did you find her?”
I laughed. “We were roommates in college. Randomly put together freshman year.”
He looked between us, then smiled in a way I could only describe as salacious.
“Damn, I am getting a beautiful picture right now,” he said.
I didn’t inform him the actual picture wasn’t all that great. Mostly, we sat around in sweatpants studying or watching Netflix. Why all men thought women being alone together meant the clothes just disappeared, I did not know. If I had to guess, I would probably blame porn.
“Before you start picturing it, I was religious about making sure there was a sock on the door and a warning text, and Quinn heeded both every time,” Max informed him.
That was true. Max gave me as much warning as she could manage before bringing guys to our room, and I was fortunate enough to never accidentally miss any of those warnings and walk in on something I did not want to see.
“Not enough to kill the dream,” Ham muttered.
“Unless she’s held out on me, I’m pretty sure there was no lesbian experimentation either,” Ace added. I gasped and slapped his shoulder.
“Not in the room anyway,” Max muttered.
I gasped again. “Seriously? You never told me that!”
She shrugged. “It was one time at a party. A bunch of frat guys dared us to make out. Nothing special. She was a good kisser, though.”
Ham cursed in a way that made it clear her words offered a mix of pain and pleasure.
“It’s why I let her slide into second base before I shut it down,” Max went on.
“Okay!” I cut in. “How about we get back to the pizza?”
“Buzzkill,” Ham said under his breath.
“Don’t worry,” Max assured quietly, but not quietly enough, “I’ll tell you the whole story later if you’re good.”
“Baby, I can be as good as you fuckin’ want.”
Turning to Ace, I spoke soft enough the other wouldn’t hear. “I don’t think I want to eat meals with the two of them ever again.”
“Noted,” he replied, grinning at my discomfort.
Jerk.
“How insistent are you on the pineapple thing?” Ace asked then, getting Ham and Max’s attention back on us.
“Completely,” she and I both answered—her firm, me resigned.
“No way in fuck I’m eating pineapple on fuckin’ pizza with no sauce,” Ham stated. I was pretty sure that was seconded by me and Ace without asking. He went on. “Not eatin’ pineapple at all.”
“Why not?” Max asked. “It’s good for you. And guys really should.”
“Why?” I had the distinct sense I would regret the question as soon as the word left my mouth.
“Because it’s supposed to make their cum taste sweeter.”
Good Lord. I was right. I didn’t want to know.
“Can we please just order food?” I asked, my face on fire.
Max ended up with a pizza—if you could call her monstrosity that—of her own, while Ham, Ace, and I shared a classic pepperoni.
We’d all finished our meals, with only Max’s pizza having any leftovers, when Daz came striding in.
“Fuck yeah, pizza!” he exclaimed.
He flipped open the box for the extra large the guys had destroyed with only a little help from me, then moved to Max’s, looking at it for a second before asking, “What’s on this?”
We answered, and he stood there for a long moment before shrugging and taking a slice.
“You’re gonna eat that shit?” Ham asked.
“Still food. Besides, pineapple’s supposed to make your cum taste better,” he replied.
“See?” Max cried.
“We both need new friends,” I declared, and Ace laughed. “I’m only kind of joking,” I informed him.
“Think we’re stuck with the ones we’ve got,” he replied, just as Max shouted, “Bitch, you’re stuck with me!”
“So much for being able to pick your friends.”
Ace pulled me in close to his side, until I had no choice but to settle my head against his shoulder. As he did, I watched Max’s face get soft.
Maybe my best friend wasn’t so bad after all.

























Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels. Her debut novel, Dissonance, released in August of 2014.

When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game.

A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her prima donna pet rabbit, Lola.

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Modern Day FairyTales Collection by Ara Cole



















































The Modern Fairy Tale Collection


Four swoonworthy tales that blend modern romance and syrupy sweet fantasy the way only Aria Cole can...

Over the top gestures, filthy-sweet dirty talking, and possessive alpha goodness--they may be rough-around-the-edges, but these men know exactly how to treat their women.

Warning: If an over-protective man with a soft spot for that one special woman is your guilty pleasure, prepare to be swept away by The Modern Fairy Tale Collection!

(Includes: Black, White, Scarlet, and Swan with brand new, ten-years-later epilogues for each couple.)
















































Aria Cole is a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache.

For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn't take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book!
Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she's writing next!

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Lucky by Carina Adams




Book Blitz March 3rd 2017

Title: Lucky 
Author: Carina Adams
Release Date: March 1st 2017
Cover Designer: Melody Simmons









Everyone loves Lucky # 7.

He’s the whole package – smart, athletic, and sexy as sin.

A filthy talking bad boy, he can have any woman he wants.

Except me.

A chance encounter. One unforgettable night.

That’s all we could ever have. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.

Fate has other plans.

If anyone found out, I would lose my job.

He could lose his scholarship.

Some things are worth the risk.

Sometimes, you have to cross your fingers, roll the dice, and hope lady luck is on your side.








Amazon UK: goo.gl/48Bk85
Amazon CA: goo.gl/n6yTor



Carina Adams has been writing and creating characters for as long as she can remember, allowing her to fall in love with the next man of her dreams with every new story.


Thankfully, fate stepped in and granted her the ultimate wish; a life full of men. Carina lives in a picturesque New England town with her husband, the one man that ruined the thought of all others, and two amazing sons that always keep her on her toes.



When she isn’t trying to juggle being a working mom with karate and football practices or surprising her children with her sci-fi character knowledge, you can find her with her nose buried in a steamy romance or researching area ghost stories. 



Always Been Mine is Carina’s first published book and she loves to hear feedback from her readers. 

You can email her at: carinaadamswrites@gmail.com









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