An Alisa Review: Lightbearer by LC Davis

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Rating:  5 stars out of 5

 

Once upon a time, the devil knocked up a delivery guy.

 

Not your typical intro to a romance, but I promise, it is one. The devil in this scenario would be a sexy horned demon named Apollyon and the delivery guy would be me, Levi Curtis. Just an average guy who got in way over his head trying to keep his twin sister from selling her soul.

 

See, in order to do unleash Hell’s demonic wrath upon the earth, Apollyon needs a mortal vessel to contain the seed of his demonic army. It wasn’t supposed to be a literal pregnancy, but my overactive imagination has always caused problems.

 

Big problems, in this case. A whole Legion of ‘em.

 

I may low-key hate Apollyon, but we’re gonna have to learn to tolerate each other in order to keep our little bundle of infernal joy safe and hopefully not destroy both our worlds in the process.

 

But hey, on the plus side, you know what they say about guys with big horns.

 

Love, love, love, I can’t say it enough, I loved this story.  It was just sooo different from many others even those with the mpreg plot.

 

Levi’s snark was awesome and I love how he always had something to say, even if it might not be the right thing.  He always did what he thought was best, even if it ended up causing problems he found a way to fix it.  Apollyon pretty much seemed like a grump but we started to see cracks in his façade and really he was a good guy.

 

I hated that Levi and Apollyon didn’t get a lot of time together before everything happened but I loved that their daughter was able to find a way for them to be together.  I just feel if I say too much more I will give away the story but take my word for it, this book rocks and you should read it.

 

I love the cover art and that it is a take on all those darn maternity pictures that people post.

 

Sales Link: Amazon  

 

Book Details:

ebook, 318 pages

Published: April 15, 2019

Edition Language: English

A MelanieM Review: Running on Empty (Havoc #3) by S.E. Jakes

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Rating: 2 stars out of 5

After years of running wild, Linc might’ve finally run out of road.

After a brutal capture at the hands of the Heathens Motorcycle Club, Linc is just trying to heal, mentally and physically. But he’s got men in his life who are complicating everything. There’s Mercy—a Havoc MC biker and the man he is falling fast for—plus an undercover ATF agent and a rogue Havoc member.

But Mercy’s keeping him at arm’s length, and Linc is spinning. In an attempt to regain his equilibrium, he heads to the bar where he first met Mercy. Night after night, he escapes Havoc bonds and continues down his merry path of mayhem . . . mainly in the hopes that Mercy will give chase.

Since Linc’s capture by his old MC, Mercy’s been dealing with the fallout of his guilt. He’s trying to give Linc space and still watch over him—all without Linc’s knowledge. But with Linc’s old job calling and a threat to Havoc MC heating up, can they make their way back together?

I have to admit that it has been a while since I have read one of S.E. Jakes stories, bothin this series and in the Hell or High Water series, but if this novel is any indication, I’m just not remembering them right.  I had anticipated coming into this a taut, well written,  somewhat kinky romance with some brutal and suspensful elements.

But instead Running on Empty (Havoc #3) by S.E. Jakes came full of errors in editing and continuity that I had to double check to see that I hadn’t been sent a pre-edited copy.   I hadn’t.   Ot just plain elements in the plot and characters that had me putting Kindle down in amazement, and not in a good way.  When you are stopping to think “who treats their main characters that way” mid paragraph, you know the story isn’t going well.  Perhaps that should be going down well.

Although, most of Linc’s torture in captivity is not described in graphic detail, you get enough details to know what happened to this man for months, months of relentless torture. Mental, physical, emotional abuse of the most horrific you can imagine, including gang rape, over and over.   He is hospitalized and then released.  Later he’s approached and agrees to resume his undercover work.  Now, he’s suffering from extreme nightmares, obviously has PTSD but has anyone, including his handler said he must come in for a Psych Evaluation?  Because perhaps he’s too messed up to continue as a agent let alone one ready for the mental and emotional rigors of undercover work? Nope.

Nor will we get into the relationship between Linc and Mercy coming off months of torture.

This is definitely not a standalone novel and should be read as part of the entire series.  So before you read this, make sure you have a foundation by reading the previous stories first.  That will get you into the mindset of the MC universe and these characters.  Then continue on if  you want. For me, this story just has far too many issues in it to be an enjoyable read.  Maybe I’ll return to the author’s Hell or High Water series, a group of novels I remember as being far more entertaining.

Cover art: L.C. Chase.  It’s a fitting cover for this story, motorcycle and all, although that’s about the only element.

Sales Links:  Riptide Publishing | Amazon

Book Details:

ebook, 204 pages
Published April 29th 2019 by Riptide Publishing
Original Title Running on Empty
ISBN139781626498808
Edition Language English
Series Havoc:

Running Wild

Running Blind

Running on Empty

Kim Fielding Talks Writing, Research, and her new story Redesigning Landry Bishop (Stars from Peril #2) (author interview)

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Redesigning Landry Bishop (Stars from Peril #2) by Kim Fielding

Dreamspinner Press
Published May 21st 2019
Cover Art: Alexandria Corza
Sales Links:  Dreamspinner Press | Amazon

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to have Kim Fielding here today talking about writing, characters, and the latest story in her Stars from Peril series, Redesigning Landry Bishop. Welcome, Kim.

✒︎

Hi! Kim Fielding here to celebrate the release of my new novel, Redesigning Landry Bishop.

Do you feel there’s a tight line between Mary Sue or should I say Gary Stu and using your own experiences to create a character?

I think it’s often inevitable that fiction authors include some of their own experiences in their books―maybe those experiences even inspired some stories in the first place. The distinction here is that the characters should react to those experiences in a way that’s true to themselves and the stories, rather than reflecting what the author did or wants to do.  For example in my new book, as soon as Landry Bishop graduated from high school, he moved to California and created a more glamorous version of himself. I left my hometown as soon as I graduated college, but I’m no more glamorous now then I was then. And unlike Landry, I love opportunities to go back and visit the place where I grew up.

Does research play a role into choosing which genre you write?  Do you enjoy research or prefer making up your worlds and cultures?

I love doing research. It’s sort of an occupational hazard since my day job is university professor. But even if I didn’t enjoy it, I still believe that all genres―not just historicals―benefit from research. Readers bring various areas of expertise to their readings, and mistakes often pull them out of a story or cause them to abandon a book entirely. My new book is a contemporary that required me to look up lots of things about Los Angeles, men’s fashion, luxury cars, the Nebraska Sandhills, hip restaurants, and Seattle roadways, among others. For my sci-fi novel Astounding! I spent hours researching the physical layout and power output of Bonneville Dam and figuring out the amount of energy necessary to convert a noncorporeal alien to physical mass. (I hope no government agencies were tracking my Google searches during that process.) My Ennek fantasy series needed a lot of background work on geography and the Roman Empire. When I was working on my paranormal Bones series, I spent a lot of time reading about wolves (the real kind, not shifters). So even when I’m making up worlds and cultures, I find research critical for consistency and believability.

Have you ever had to put an ‘in progress’ story aside because of the emotional ties with it?  You were hurting with the characters or didn’t know how to proceed?

Not exactly, but I’ve certainly struggled to continue. Probably my worst time was when writing The Tin Box―a book I’m very proud of now. The problem there was twofold. First off, my protagonist, William, is really uptight at the beginning. He’s in denial about his own sexuality and, consequently, isn’t very warm to Colby at the start. Colby is out, proud, and a trifle flamboyant. I knew why William was like this, and I knew he’d grow as a person, but writing him was still difficult at first. Even worse, though, was writing the letters that William discovers in the former mental hospital. I hated what was happening to the man who wrote those letters, even more so because those things actually happened to far too many gay men during that era. I’m glad I soldiered on and finished the book, but it was hard going for a while.

Do you read romances, as a teenager and as an adult?

I rarely read romances as a teen. That was back in the Stone Age, and I found the depictions of women in most of those (het romance) books off-putting. Back then, I mostly stuck to fantasy, horror, and sci fi, although I enjoyed some of the gothic novels that sort of straddled romance and horror. Fourteen-year-old me adored Flowers in the Attic. My reading habits changed when I was older. For one thing, gay romance became widely available, and I fell in love with that genre. Also, het romance matured, and now I find the range of heroines much more relatable and sympathetic. I’ve also discovered that there are some truly excellent writers in both gay and het romance.

How do you choose your covers?  (curious on my part)

This varies a bit, depending on whether the book is self-published or released through a publisher. In either case, though, I generally have a vague concept that I give the cover artist. I’ll describe the characters and the tone, because the cover for an angsty paranormal should look very different from a light contemporary. Then I let the artist do their thing. I never cease to be amazed at how well these talented people can take my germ of an idea and nurture it into something amazing. I’ve even had a couple of my favorite covers made into posters and framed; they’re hanging on my wall right now. I consider myself hugely lucky to have worked with these artists. Sometimes I think it would be worth writing books just to score the beautiful cover art.

If you could imagine the best possible place for you to write, where would that be and why?

I can―and do!―write almost anywhere, although I do the bulk of my work sitting at the kitchen table. One of my favorite places to write is in hotel rooms, probably because there isn’t much to distract me. But I have a dream. I’m staying at a resort on the shores of a tropical sea. My private bungalow is set on stilts in the water. The glass walls open completely, allowing the warm breeze to ruffle the white curtains and carry the faint scent of flowers. Outside, dolphins frolic. Inside I have a huge bed, a big desk, and a comfy chair. At the press of a button, scantily-clad waiters bring me trays of fruit, pastries, and cold drinks. Aaaahhhh.

  

What’s next for you as a writer?

The third book in the Stars from Peril series, Drawing the Prince, will release in October. If you’re in the mood for something with more angst, the third Love Can’t book will come out early next year. That one is called Love Has No Direction. I’m also working now on the fifth novella in the Bureau series, plus I have projects going with Venona Keyes and with Shira Anthony. Busy!

**

Blurb:

Love never goes out of style.

Landry Bishop fled his tiny hometown and never looked back. Now his expertise in food, fashion, and décor has earned him all of Hollywood’s glittering perks. But with his husband deceased and his personal assistant retired, Landry has nobody to rely on—and no one to help him indulge his secret cravings.

Casual, plainspoken Jordan Stryker seems a dubious choice of a PA for someone as formal and self-controlled as Landry. Jordan’s questionable fashion sense and limited kitchen skills don’t exactly enhance his résumé. But as Landry soon realizes, Jordan has many attractive qualities too.

With a strong pull toward Jordan, new career opportunities on the horizon, and a persistent tug from family back home, Landry is in a quandary. He can advise others on how to make their lives special, but what should he do about his own?

Excerpt:

Half an hour later, while Landry was puttering around with an experimental tabbouleh recipe, Jordan and Elaine joined him in the kitchen. “Try this,” he ordered, handing them each a spoonful.

Jordan made approving noises, but Elaine frowned. “That’s not a grain.”

“It’s cauliflower.”

“For the love of God, why?”

“For people who want to eat grain-free.”

“If you don’t want to eat grains, you shouldn’t be eating tabbouleh.” She took Jordan’s spoon along with her own and washed them in the sink.

“I like it,” Jordan announced. “It’s kind of crunchyish.” He seemed sincere.

“Thank you,” Landry said.

“Hey, um, you didn’t really have an important phone call, did you?”

“No. That was Elaine rescuing me.”

“I kinda figured. Except… I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but why did you need rescuing? Those guys were hot. That whole thing was like the opening of a pretty good porno, you know? If they’d been all over me like that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted rescuing.”

Landry pushed aside the interesting information that Jordan was attracted to men. His PA’s sexual orientation was irrelevant. He also pushed aside a stupid and inexplicable jab of jealousy. If Jordan wanted to fantasize about group sex with hunky furniture deliverymen, that was none of Landry’s business. So he focused on the question itself.

“Why do you think those extremely attractive men were so interested in me?”

“Um, because they were throwing themselves all over you.”

“Yes, I suppose they were. But why? Why me?”

“’Cause you’re damned hot too.”

Even as Landry’s face heated at the unexpected compliment, Jordan’s cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. Interesting. Their gazes locked so tightly that Landry wondered if either of them would ever look away. Or if he wanted them to.

About the Author

Kim Fielding is the bestselling, award-winning author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.

Having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls California home. She lives there with her family and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.

Follow Kim:

Website: http://www.kfieldingwrites.com/

Facebook: http://facebook.com/KFieldingWrites

Instagram: @KFieldingWrites

Twitter: @KFieldingWrites

Email: Kim@KFieldingWrites.com

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bau3S9

BLOG TOUR – The Hierophant’s Daughter (The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy #1) by M.F. Sullivan

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BLOG TOUR

Book Title: The Hierophant’s Daughter (The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy)

Author: M. F. Sullivan

Publisher: Painted Blind Publishing

Cover Artist: Nuno Moreira

Genre/s: LGBTQ Cyberpunk/Horror, Sci-fi/Fantasy (Adult)

Heat Rating: 1 flame (A romantic relationship between the couple but no intimate scenes or sexual situations are described in the book. The book fades-to-black before any love scene).

Length:  approx. 100k words/ 298 paperback pages

It is Book I of The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy

Release Date: May 19, 2019

Add on Goodreads

Dive into the first volume of a bleak cyberpunk tahgmahr you can’t afford to miss. What would you sacrifice to survive?

 

Blurb

By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind’s intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.

It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant’s Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is–assuming he exists at all–and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don’t inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.

After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER, and her Father won’t let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.

The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.

 

Buy Links

Amazon US 

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

 

Excerpt

The Flight of the Governess

The Disgraced Governess of the United Front was blind in her right eye. Was that blood in the left, or was it damaged, too? The crash ringing in her ears kept her from thinking straight. Of course her left eye still worked: it worked well enough to prevent her from careening into the trees through which she plunged. Yet, for the tinted flecks of reality sometimes twinkling between crimson streaks, she could only imagine her total blindness with existential horror. Would the protein heal the damage? How severely was her left eye wounded? What about the one she knew to be blind—was it salvageable? Ichigawa could check, if she ever made it to the shore.

She couldn’t afford to think that way. It was a matter of “when,” not of “if.” She would never succumb. Neither could car accident, nor baying hounds, nor the Hierophant himself keep her from her goal. She had fourteen miles to the ship that would whisk her across the Pacific and deliver her to the relative safety of the Risen Sun. Then the Lazarene ceremony would be less than a week away. Cassandra’s diamond beat against her heart to pump it into double time, and with each double beat, she thought of her wife (smiling, laughing, weeping when she thought herself alone) and ran faster. A lucky thing the Governess wasn’t human! Though, had she remained human, she’d have died three centuries ago in some ghetto if she’d lived past twenty without becoming supper. Might have been the easier fate, or so she lamented each time her mind replayed the crash of the passenger-laden tanque at fifth gear against the side of their small car. How much she might have avoided!

Of course—then she never would have known Cassandra. That made all this a reasonable trade. Cold rain softened the black earth to the greedy consistency of clay, but her body served where her eyes failed. The darkness was normally no trouble, but now she squinted while she ran and, under sway of a dangerous adrenaline high, was side-swiped by more than one twisting branch. The old road that was her immediate goal, Highway 128, would lead her to the coast of her favorite Jurisdiction, but she now had to rediscover that golden path after the crash’s diversion. In an effort to evade her pursuers, she had torn into a pear orchard without thought of their canine companions. Not that the soldiers of the Americas kept companions like Europa’s nobles. These dogs were tools. Well-honed, organic death machines with a cultivated taste for living flesh, whether martyr or human. The dogs understood something that most had forgotten: the difference between the two was untenable. Martyrs could tell themselves they were superior for an eternity, but it wouldn’t change the fact that the so-called master race and the humans they consumed were the same species.

That was not why Cassandra had died, but it hadn’t contributed to their marital bliss. And now, knowing what she did of the Hierophant’s intentions—thinking, always, what Cassandra would have said—the Governess pretended she was driven by that ghost, and not by her own hopelessness. Without the self-delusion, she was a victim to a great many ugly thoughts, foremost among them being: Was the fear of life after her wife’s death worth such disgrace? A death sentence? Few appreciated what little difference there was between human and martyr, and fewer cared, because caring was fatal. But she was a part of the Holy Family. Shouldn’t that have been all that mattered? Stunning how, after three centuries, she deserved to be treated no better than a human. Then again, there was nothing quite like resignation from one’s post to fall in her Father’s estimate. Partly, he was upset by her poor timing—she did stand him up at some stupid press event, but only because she hoped it would keep everybody occupied while she got away. In that moment, she couldn’t even remember what it was. Dedicating a bridge? Probably. Her poor head, what did the nature of the event matter when she was close to death?

That lapse in social graces was not the reason for this hunt. He understood that more lay behind her resignation than a keening for country life. Even before he called her while she and the others took the tanque to the coast, he must have known. Just like he must have known the crash was seconds from happening while he chatted away, and that the humans in her company, already nervous to be within a foot of the fleeing Governess, were doomed.

Of the many people remaining on Earth, those lumped into the group of “human” were at constant risk of death, mutilation, or—far worse—unwilling martyrdom. This meant those humans lucky enough to avoid city-living segregation went to great lengths to keep their private properties secure. Not only houses but stables. The Disgraced Governess found this to be true of the stables into which she might have stumbled and electrocuted herself were it not for the bug zaps of rain against the threshold’s surface. Her mind made an instinctive turn toward prayer for the friendliness of the humans in the nearby farmhouse—an operation she was quick to abort. In those seconds (minutes?) since the crash, she’d succeeded in reconstructing the tinted windows of the tanque and a glimpse of silver ram’s horns: the Lamb lurked close enough to hear her like she spoke into his ear. It was too much to ask that he be on her side tonight.

Granted, the dogs of the Lamb were far closer, and far more decisive about where their loyalties stood. One hound sank its teeth into her ankle, and she, crying out, kicked the beast into its closest partner with a crunch. Slower dogs snarled outrage in the distance while the Disgraced Governess ran to the farmhouse caught in her left periphery. The prudent owners, to her frustration, shuttered their windows at night. Nevertheless, she smashed her fist against the one part of the house that protruded: the doorbell required by the Hierophant’s “fair play” dictatum allowing the use of electronic barriers. As the humans inside stumbled out of bed in response to her buzzing, the Disgraced Governess unholstered her antique revolver and unloaded two rounds into the recovered canines before they were upon her. The discharge wasn’t a tip-off she wanted to give to the Lamb and her other pursuers, but it hastened the response of the sleeping farmers as the intercom crackled to life.

“Who is it?” A woman’s voice, quivering with an edge of panic.

“My name is Dominia di Mephitoli: I’m the former Governess of the United Front, and I need to borrow a horse. Please. Don’t let me in. Just drop the threshold on your stables.”

“The Governess? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. The Dominia di Mephitoli, really? The martyr?”

“Yes, yes, please. I need a horse now.” Another dog careened around the corner and leapt over the bodies of his comrades with such grace that she wasted her third round in the corpses. Two more put it down as she shouted into the receiver. “I can’t transfer you any credits because they’ve frozen my Halcyon account, but I’ll leave you twenty pieces of silver if you drop the threshold and loan me a horse. You can reclaim it at the docks off Bay Street, in the township of Sienna. Please! He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll be sure to kill us for helping you.”

“Tell him I threatened you. Tell him I tricked you! Anything. Just help me get away!”

“He’ll never believe what we say. He’ll kill me, my husband, our children. We can’t.”

“Oh, please. An act of mercy for a dying woman. Please, help me leave. I can give you the name of a man in San Valentino who can shelter you and give you passage abroad.”

“There’s no time to go so far south. Not as long as it takes to get across the city.”

It had been ten seconds since she’d heard the last dog. That worried her. With her revolver at the ready, she scanned the area for something more than the quivering roulette blotches swelling in her right eye. Nothing but the dead animals. “He’ll kill you either way. For talking to me, and not keeping me occupied until his arrival. For knowing that there’s disarray in his perfect land. He’ll find a reason, even if it only makes sense to him.”

The steady beat of rain pattered out a passive answer. On the verge of giving up, Dominia stepped back to ready herself for a fight—and the house’s threshold dropped with an electric pop. The absent mauve shimmer left the façade bare. How rare to see a country place without its barrier! A strange thing. Stranger for the front door to open; she’d only expected them to do away with the threshold on the stables.

But, rather than the housewife she’d anticipated, there stood the Hierophant. Several bleak notions clicked into place.

One immaculate gray brow arched. “Now, Dominia, that’s hardly fair. Knowledge of your disgrace isn’t why I’ll kill them. The whole world will know of it tomorrow morning. You embarrassed me by sending your resignation, rather than making the appearance I asked of you, so it is only fair I embarrass you by rejecting your resignation and firing you publicly. No, my dear. I will kill these fine people to upset you. In fact, Mr. McLintock is already dead in the attic. A mite too brave. Of course”—he winked, and whispered in conspiracy—“don’t tell them that.”

“How did you know I’d come here?”

“Such an odd spurt of rain tonight. Of all your Jurisdictions, this one is usually so dry this time of year! Won’t you come in for tea? Mrs. McLintock brews a fine pot. But put that gun away. You’re humiliating yourself. And me.”

 

About the Author

M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult.

Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) here. 

 

 

Author Links

Blog

Twitter

Amazon Author Page

Goodreads Author Page

 

Giveaway

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win one of two signed hardback copies of The Hierophant’s Daughter

or a $10 Amazon Gift Card

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BLOG TOUR SCHEDULE

 

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Check Out the Book Release Tour for Azaran (Brotherhood of Ormarr #1) by Jacki James

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Azaran

Jacki James has a new MM paranormal dragon rider book out, book one of the four-part Brotherhood of Ormarr series: Azaran.

Azaran~

I was born a dragon rider. A member of the Brotherhood of Ormarr, son of Cadmar, and the eldest of four sons. I was raised to defend the innocent and protect the secret of the dragons, but when I was eighteen, my parents were brutally murdered and the training and care of my brothers fell to me. My entire adult life has been spent helping my brothers grow into the strong, brave dragon riders they were born to be. Now that the youngest of my brothers is close to adulthood, the last thing I need is someone else to worry about—someone else to be responsible for. If only the handsome doctor fate had chosen for my mate wasn’t so perfect for me.

Toby~

AlI I ever wanted was to help people, that’s why I became a doctor, but I quickly learned that modern medicine was more about the all-mighty dollar and less about saving lives. It wasn’t long before I was doubting my life choices. A vacation to the ocean was supposed to leave me refreshed and ready to get back to work, but instead, I found myself pulled into a world I never knew existed. A world where dragons are real, men fight like medieval warriors, and my soulmate has his very own bat cave. Azaran thinks the last thing he needs is a mate to worry about. Good thing I don’t need anyone to take care of me. My sexy dragon rider, on the other hand, needs someone to take care of him, and I think I’m just the man to do it.

Azaran is the first book in The Brotherhood of Ormarr series. While each book focuses on a different couple, the overall story arc continues in the next installment. For maximum enjoyment, we suggest reading in order. Azaran is a m/m romance, and is recommended for adults 18 years and older.

About the Series:

SERIES Brotherhood of Ormarr

Being a dragon rider for the Brotherhood of Ormarr is filled with adventure, but danger can lurk behind every corner with the Order of Amsel set out to destroy the riders. Azaran, Zale, Eeli, and Malachite have spent their whole lives training, but will it be enough?

The brothers lost their parents years ago to assassins, but they’ve never been able to figure out who was behind the attack. Follow the journey of these dragon riders, along with their faithful dragons, as they find their mates and discover clues that will lead to the final epic showdown.

The Brotherhood of Ormarr series consists of four books, each with its own HEA. While each book focuses on a different couple, the overall story arc continues into the next installment. For maximum enjoyment, we suggest reading in order. This is a m/m romance series, and is recommended for adults 18 years and older.

Get It On Amazon


Giveaway

Jacki is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter:

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d4764/?


Excerpt

MEME Azaran

Malachite flew up next to me and we prepared to fight. Zale swooped down and Itsaso took Dr. Gibbs and his tube in his claws, and they cut to the left and headed for shore.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Malachite asked.

“I have no idea, but I’m getting pretty freaking tired of them knowing where we are all the blasted time.”

“This is the third time this month,” he said. “There’s no way that’s a coincidence.”

“Nope, not a chance. I think Zale’s far enough away. You ready?”

“Yep, let’s go.” We took off up into the sky and farther out to sea, away from where Zale had taken the doctor. I looked back to make sure they all followed us, and they did. So the doctor didn’t seem to be the target. That meant either one of us was or The Order of Amsel were fucking with us. We led them on a merry chase through the clouds. I noticed a small island ahead, and the timing was perfect because I’d had enough.

“Time to get answers,” I told Malachite and sent a message to Sindri to land on the beach.

We climbed off our dragons and watched as the four wraiths soared above as if they couldn’t decide if they wanted to land or not.

“If they’re smart, they’ll keep going,” Malachite said.

“Yeah, but nobody ever accused The Order of being smart,” I said as I watched them descend. Wraiths were nasty looking creatures. They were dragons, but they weren’t. Their magick had been corrupted and turned dark. I had always thought they most closely resembled demons, all black and surrounded by smoke. The men landed on the beach and hopped off their wraiths, assuming a fighting stance. I shook my head and sighed. Malachite and I shared a look and prepared to fight.

“I’ll take the two on the left,” Malachite said. “And then if you need help, I’ll take one of yours.”

I laughed because he probably would. Where most people messed up when challenging Malachite was they assumed his size was his biggest advantage. They would be wrong. He was fast, and he was precise.

“Guys. I’m not really in the mood to do this today. How about if you just tell me what I want to know, and we skip the part where we kick your sorry asses?” I said.

“Kick our asses?” one of the men asked in disbelief. “There are four of us and only two of you.”

“Yeah.” I shook my head and sighed. “You should’ve brought more guys.”


Author Bio

AVATAR Jacki James

Jacki James has been saying she was going to write a book since she was sixteen and wrote fanfiction (before fanfiction had a name) about her favorite Rockstar. She is a believer in love of all kinds but MM romance is her favorite by far. She has a romantic heart and a dirty mind and likes to write stories that let both shine.

When she isn’t writing she is either creating beautiful pieces of glass art or reading. She is an animal lover and dreams of having a small hobby farm where she can raise goats, chickens and organic veggies. In the meantime, she lives in town with her two cats, awesome husband, and two college-aged kids.

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