Showing posts with label Harlequin Nocturne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harlequin Nocturne. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Enchanted Guardian Book Tour and Giveaway


Enchanted Guardian
Camelot Reborn Series
Book Two
Sharon Ashwood

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne

Date of Publication: August 1 2016

ISBN: 978-0373009763
ASIN: B01CNMT0DK

Number of pages: 300  
Word Count: 85000

Book Description:

Enchanted Guardian- A love of legendary proportion

In another time, in a place once known as Camelot, they had been lovers. Torn apart by betrayal and lies, Lancelot Du Lac and Nimueh, the Lady of the Lake, had each suffered greatly.

But the magic of the fae had reawakened a man once trapped in stone, and Lancelot was determined to find his long lost love. Only, Nim was desperate to hide her fae soul, as she was marked for death by their mutual enemy.

Though centuries apart had not diminished their passion, they would once again face a dangerous test to prove each was the other’s destiny.


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Excerpt:
Lancelot caught her arm, pulling her up short. Nim scowled down at the long, strong fingers. Fine scars ran along his tanned knuckles, evidence of a life around blades. Heaviness filled her, a primitive reaction to the strong, aggressive male taking control of her in the most basic way. Once it might have grown into anger or lust, but now it confused her.
“Take your hand off me,” she said, letting her voice fill with frost.
“No.” He pulled her closer, turning her to face him. “You will answer my questions.”
Nim jerked her arm free. They were so close, she could feel his warm breath against her skin. “About what?”
His nostrils flared as if scenting her. Still, Nim studied his tense jaw and the blood flushing his high cheekbones. The heat of his emotions made her feel utterly hollow. His hand closed around her wrist again, almost crushing her bones.
“There are too many people here,” he growled.
“There are enough people here for safety. Perhaps I don’t want to answer you.”
His eyes held hers a moment, dark fire against the ice of her spirit. That seemed to decide him, for he pulled her close and took a better grip on her arm. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
He didn’t reply, but steered her toward the door, moving so fast she skittered on her heels. She took the opportunity to pull against him, but this time he held her fast. “Don’t.”
The threat was real. Her fighting skills were nothing compared to a knight’s. Lancelot could crush or even kill her with a single blow. Still, that didn’t make her helpless, and she would not let him forget that fact. Rising up on her toes, she put her mouth a mere whisper from his ear. “You forget what I can do. My magic is nothing less than what it was when I was the first among the fae noblewomen. I can defend myself against your brute strength.”
Just not against what he’d done to her heart. She closed her eyes a moment, feeling his breath against her cheek and remembering the past for a long moment before she denied herself that luxury. “Let me go,” she repeated.
In response, he pulled her to the side of the building, refusing to stop until he was deep into the shadows. The ground was little more than cracked concrete there, tufts of grass straggling between the stones. He pushed her against the siding, her back pressed to the rough wood. “Not until I’ve had my say.”
He had both of her arms now, prisoning Nim with the hard, muscled wall of his chest. Anyone walking by might glimpse two lovers in a private tête-à-tête, but Nim drew back as far as she could, something close to anger rising to strike. No one handled her this way, especially not him.
“Then talk,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Aren’t you even surprised to see me?” he demanded.
“Why should I be?” She needed to squash any personal connection between them. Even if she was whole and their people were not at war, he had betrayed her.
He put a hand against her cheek, his fingers rough. She jerked her chin away, burning where his touch had grazed her.
But he was relentless. “I’m told you were caught by Merlin’s spell along with the rest. I know what the fae have become.”
Soulless. As good as dead inside. Lancelot didn’t say the words, but she heard them all the same. “It’s true,” she replied. “It’s all true.”
His expression was stricken as if hearing it from her lips was poison. Good, she thought. Better to be honest. Better that he believe her to be the monster she was.
“Maybe that’s true for some. I don’t believe that about you. You still have too much fire.”
With that, he claimed her mouth in an angry kiss. Nim caught her breath, stifling a cry of true surprise. The Lancelot she’d known had been gentle and eager to please. Nothing like this. And yet the clean taste of him was everything she remembered.
His mouth slanted, breaking past the barrier of her lips to plunder her mouth. The hunger in him was bruising, going far beyond the physical to pull at something deep in her belly. Desire, perhaps, or heartbreak. She wasn’t sure any longer, but she couldn’t stop herself from nipping at his lip, yearning to feel what she had lost. A sigh caught in her throat before she swallowed it down. Surely she was operating on reflex, the memory of kisses. Not desire she might feel now. The warmth and weight of him spoke to something older than true emotion. Even a reptile could feel comfort in the sun. Even she…
Still, that little encouragement was all the permission he needed to slide his hand up her hip to her waist and she could feel the pressure of his fingers. Lancelot was as strong as any fae male, strong enough certainly to overpower her. That had thrilled her once, a guilty admission she’d never dared to make. She’d been so wise, so scholarly, so magical, but an earthy male had found the liquid center of heat buried under all that logic and light. They had always sparked like that, flint against steel.
But then his hand found her breast and every muscle in her stiffened. This was too much. Memory was one thing, but she wasn’t the same now and she refused to have a physical encounter that was nothing more than a ghost of what it should be.
Nim pushed him away. “I don’t want this.”
Something in her look finally made him stop, but his eyes glittered with arousal. “Are you certain about that?”

About the Author:
Sharon Ashwood is a novelist, desk jockey and enthusiast for the weird and spooky. She has an English literature degree but works as a finance geek. Interests include growing her to-be-read pile and playing with the toy graveyard on her desk. As a vegetarian, she freely admits the whole vampire/werewolf lifestyle would never work out, so she writes her adventures instead.

Sharon is the winner of the RITA® Award for Paranormal Romance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest and is owned by the Demon Lord of Kitty Badness.








Review:

Knights coming out of an enchanted sleep to battle an ancient evil and some passion to fan the flame-with an amazing backdrop in a Medieval theme park. I loved the second installment in this series. Wonderful!! Anyone who loves Arthurian legend is going to fall in love.

5/5


Tour giveaway

$25 amazon gift certificate + books 1&2 of the Camelot Reborn series
(winner’s choice of paperback or ebook)






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Thursday, May 26, 2016

Otherworld Renegade Tour and #Giveaway


Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne

Date of Publication: May 1st 2016

ISBN: 9780373009695
ASIN: B015CJXYMO

Number of pages: 304
Word Count: 80 000

Cover Artist: Harlequin

Book Description:

Claiming her felt like his destiny…but could prove to be his ultimate undoing.

Desperate to flee a horrific arranged marriage, Princess Tanzi turned to the only man who could help. Lorcan Malone, infamous necromancer, had vowed to come to her aid whenever she needed him. And even as they traveled from the mortal world into the fantastical Otherworld, Tanzi knew her true need ran deeper than just a rescue. 

She was his enemy's daughter. A renegade like Lorcan had no business craving a Fae princess, one intended for a greater calling. Yet he was powerless to resist the pull to do more than protect Tanzi…

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Excerpt:
“Trust me, Tanzi. If you need me, I will know.”
Those words, spoken by Lorcan Malone in the heat of battle, must have been a bit of Irish blarney. He probably didn’t even remember who she was, let alone recall their strange encounter on that fateful day. So why, in this moment—when she was in more trouble than she could ever have imagined possible—was she suddenly experiencing a fierce longing for the bad-boy necromancer with the twinkling blue eyes?
It’s called clutching at straws, she told herself. It’s what you’re doing right now instead of facing reality and finding your own way out of this madness.
“What are you thinking, my daughter?” Moncoya, exiled King of the Faeries, watched her face.
“I’m thinking that defeat has unhinged you. That you have finally done what others have whispered of for years and taken leave of your senses.” Never before had Tanzi spoken so boldly to him. Defiance was the trait her twin sister, Vashti, proudly exhibited. Tanzi had always been the acquiescent one. Until now. There were some things she could not bow down and agree to. This was one of them. 
Moncoya’s perfect features hardened with fury. His blue eyes, so like her own with their sidhe ring of fire encircling the iris, lit with a brighter inner blaze. His fingers tightened on the arm of his chair so that his knuckles gleamed white in stark contrast to the black polish that decorated his perfectly manicured nails. Tanzi braced herself. His retribution would be swift and merciless. She couldn’t hope to match him in strength, but she might be able to outrun him.
The outcome hung in the balance for seconds that stretched into minutes. Then Moncoya laughed. It was a brittle, mirthless sound that set Tanzi’s teeth buzzing. She knew that laugh well. It had never boded well in her childhood. She didn’t imagine things had changed. Unexpectedly, he relaxed back into his seat.
“My child, you are overwhelmed by the honor I have arranged for you. I should have foreseen this.” He rose, draping a deceptively casual arm about her shoulders. “Walk with me a while.”
They stepped through a set of double doors straight onto a sand-and-shingle beach. The entire island, known locally as the Silver Isle, seemed to be made up of sand. Even the ocher-hued cliffs looked ready to crumble into grit at the touch of a fingertip. Ferns, wild fennel and coarse bamboo grasses clung determinedly to soil that was a combination of granule and dust. Tanzi thought of her father’s palace, of the precisely laid-out gardens leading down to the elegant lake. She glanced back over her shoulder at the beachside villa they had just left. Sea breezes and salt water had taken their toll on its elegance so that it had a faded charm she doubted her father would acknowledge. In comparison with the soaring, white marble palace she had called “home” for all her life, it was a shack. Moncoya was as out of place here as a diamond in a dung heap.
“You made sure no one followed you?” Moncoya withdrew his arm from about her shoulders as they walked along the water’s edge. Secrecy surrounded this hiding place. If he was discovered, he faced trial and inevitable execution.
“Of course.” Tanzi was offended at the question. Would he have asked Vashti the same thing? She doubted it. Yet we both trained with the Valkyrie. We are equally astute when it comes to warfare and subterfuge. It came back to the same weary argument. The same reason Tanzi had been summoned to be the recipient of his latest piece of “good news” instead of her twin. Moncoya viewed Vashti as the son he had never had. Tanzi’s only value to her father was as a pawn in the marriage stakes. Not this marriage, father. The sacrifice you are asking of me is too great.
“Tell me what has been happening at the palace in my absence.” Three months had passed since the cataclysmic battle that had forced Moncoya into hiding. It felt like three years.
“There is a peacekeeping council known as the Alliance in place. Each of the Otherworld dynasties has representation on it. The Alliance itself is led by Merlin Caledonius.”
Moncoya’s expression hardened further at the name. “That half-blood cur will pay dearly for his part in this.”
Merlin, the greatest sorcerer the world had ever known, was Moncoya’s half brother and the man who had brought about his exile. Cal, as he preferred to be called these days, had widened the existing gulf of hatred between the two men further by falling in love with and marrying the woman Moncoya had hoped to make his queen.
Tanzi paused, looking out across the turquoise waters toward the horizon. She drew a deep breath. “My father, you wrong him. He is man of conscience who is doing a fine job of uniting the dynasties…” Moncoya’s growl of rage told her she had gone too far.
“Am I, the greatest leader Otherworld has ever known, to be forced into hiding while he lives in luxury in my royal palace? Am I to endure the knowledge that he has stolen the necromancer star, the woman I chose as my own, from under my nose? Must I kick my heels in this backwater while you, my own daughter, take the seat that should be mine at this pathetic council table—” He broke off, his voice ragged. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, the words a caress. “But you know nothing of these things, my child. It is wrong of these men to ask you to involve yourself in their political machinations. They seek to trick you.”
Tanzi bit her lip. How could she explain it to him when he insisted on viewing her as a helpless dupe? Being part of the Alliance had brought her new life. Oh, she had been regarded with suspicion initially by many of the council members. She was Moncoya’s daughter, after all. They saw her as the spoiled brat sidhe princess who had been his consort—his puppet—in the past. Together with Vashti, she had blindly carried out his wishes. But things had changed three months ago on that battlefield. She had changed.
A pair of laughing Irish eyes came into her mind once more and she determinedly dismissed them. Cal and his wife, Stella, treated her as their equal, and with their help she was learning how to be the voice and conscience of her people. She was developing an understanding of compassion and democracy. Tanzi cast a sidelong glance at her father. She was learning that there was a way to rule other than Moncoya’s iron-fisted style.
“Let us leave this talk of the mongrel sorcerer for another day. I look forward to dealing with him when the time comes. This marriage I have arranged for you is the highest distinction ever to be bestowed upon a woman. Through this union, I will not only be able to come out of this undignified hiding and return to my palace, I will be the undisputed ruler of all Otherworld.” Moncoya’s lips thinned into a smile. “There will be no need for their puny Alliance when that day dawns.”
“And what of me, Father? While you become all powerful, what will I become?”
He paused then, perhaps considering for the first time the true implications of what he was asking of her. Such was his arrogance, she might have known he would not allow her feelings to influence him for long. “You will be revered above all others.”
She shook her head. “I will not do it.”
His face was set. The silken note in his voice made the threat even more menacing. “You have no choice.”
“By all the angels, Father, you cannot intend to force me into this!”
Moncoya’s lips smiled but Tanzi’s heart quailed at the look in his eyes. “Given the bridegroom I have chosen for you, might I suggest you refrain from speaking of angels in the future?”

Review:

This was a great PNR read and the suspense didn't stop. The chemistry between the two characters was pure snap and spark and I loved it! Can't wait to read more from this author!

5/5

About the Author:

Jane Godman writes in a variety of romance genres including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Her Otherworld series is published by Harlequin Nocturne and she has a new series coming out soon with Harlequin Romantic Suspense. 2017 will see the publication of a new paranormal series for SMP Swerve.
Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities, which are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mom to two grown-up children.






Tour giveaway

10 signed print copies



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Thursday, February 25, 2016

Enchanted Warrior by Sharon Ashwood


ENCHANTED WARRIOR (CAMELOT REBORN, BOOK 1) BY SHARON ASHWOOD


Writing seduction

It goes without saying that romance writers learn the art of writing love scenes. Mastering that skill is every bit as delicious and imaginative as it sounds, but it is also a technical craft that requires patience and a critical eye for detail. To do the job well means making the scene flow so smoothly that the reader is unaware of the work behind a transparent reading experience.

But the love/sex scene is just one aspect of writing about seduction. As compelling as those steamy moments are, they can’t come out of nowhere. A story needs the buildup of romantic tension, all the flirtatious games and teasing that go on before the big payoff. Part of an author’s job is to find fresh and interesting ways for characters to do that dance. As the old saying goes, good writers show far more than they tell. The character has to BE attractive as well as LOOK that way for us to care about their happiness.

What does “attractive” mean? That has as many answers as there are lovers. Each set of partners enters into their romance with a unique combination of skills and attributes. They demonstrate who they are in ways that go beyond lovemaking but also greatly inform the sexual dance.  Is it a mercurial personality—that push and pull that leaves a love interest guessing—that catches our interest? Brute physical power? A gentle heart? Untold generosity? A gift for storytelling? This is where writing about seduction becomes highly individual and endlessly varied. This is where wit and emotion play their part, because hearts are healed—or easily broken—during this dangerous passage where trust is built and masks shed. We need to see deep into a character before we surrender.

It’s not just the lovers that enter the sex scene with explosive expectations. The reader has also committed to the unique personalities and challenges of the characters. She has let the writer and the story into her heart and mind, building trust right along with the writers. After that, if the author knows her business, how can the final climax fail to be good?

*


Review:

A blend of Arthurian legend and witchery, this modern day improvisation lends itself well to the world of the Knights of the Round table. Tamsin is the perfect heroine and Gawain a swoonworthy hero. I enjoyed the updated twist to this legend and the idea that knights could be frozen in time until they were needed to be of service. Combustible scenes between the two MC's rocked it. This was the first book I've read by Sharon Ashwood, but it won't be my last. 

5/5


Giveaway:  I’ll give away one signed paperback copy of ENCHANTED WARRIOR to a commenter.

Short Excerpt:

Huge hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her backward until she collided with a rock-hard chest. Tamsin inhaled, about to scream, but a palm clamped over her mouth. A moment later, the man’s free arm grasped her middle. Tamsin lunged forward, but his grip was an iron bar. Her next move was to kick back, aiming for the man’s knee. She missed, catching only his shin with the soft sole of her boot. He grunted and pulled her against him so tightly she could barely breathe.
“Don’t,” he said, the word clipped and cold.
Tamsin froze, going utterly still. Whoever this was, his psychic shields were so powerful he’d been completely hidden from her scan. After fretting about evil creatures stalking witches, she was too scared to reach for her magic. Every instinct warned her this stranger would not tolerate further defiance. This was a professional. A predator. A true threat. She knew it on a level so primitive it was coded into her DNA.
Her obedience seemed to work, because the hand clamped over her mouth slowly moved away. He tasted of salt, sweat and man. He hadn’t used weapons to overpower her, just brute strength. That show of confidence made him seem all the more deadly.
“You will not cry out.” His words had traces of a brogue—Scottish, perhaps. His deep, masculine voice vibrated through the line where their bodies touched and sank into her bones.
“Please,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want?”
“Turn around.”
The arm locked about her loosened, allowing her to move but not to escape. Tamsin shrank away as far as she could, the heat of his body a sharp contrast to the cool November air.
“Turn,” he repeated. “I want to see your face when I question you.”
Tamsin obeyed, sliding within the circle of his arm. It put their faces barely twelve inches apart, and that was only because he was so tall. Her first instinct was to avoid eye contact, to rebel at least in that small way, but curiosity won. She snatched a glance from under her lashes.
She froze all over again as he nailed her in place with a brilliant blue gaze. He was younger than she’d expected—maybe in his late twenties—and handsome enough that she forgot to breathe. His face had strong bones, the features bold and almost sensual. Heat rose to her cheeks as her insides curled into a protective ball. He was far too magnetic, far too there for comfort.
He studied her face a moment longer, his gaze filled with bold assessment. It finally broke when the corners of his mouth quirked. “You are the historian who is supposed to explain this place to visitors, Tamsin Greene?”

For a longer excerpt, click here:  http://www.sharonashwood.com/camelot-reborn/


Book Blurb:

An ancient evil rises. An ancient warrior awakens. 

In an age clouded by legend, Gawain was one of King Arthur’s greatest knights. When he awakens centuries after the fall of Camelot, he faces his most daunting quest yet-the search for his missing companions. His hope is that Tamsin Greene, the alluring historian at Medievaland Theme Park, can help him. Then he senses the magic within her Gawain will now have to trust a witch-and his own heart-to rouse the knights of the Round Table and save humanity from a faery onslaught.





Author Bio:

Sharon Ashwood is a novelist, desk jockey and enthusiast for the weird and spooky. She has an English literature degree but works as a finance geek. Interests include growing her to-be-read pile and playing with the toy graveyard on her desk. As a vegetarian, she freely admits the whole vampire/werewolf lifestyle would never work out, so she writes her adventures instead.
Sharon is the winner of the RITA® Award for Paranormal Romance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest and is owned by the Demon Lord of Kitty Badness.


Author Links:

Contact: Sharon@SharonAshwood.com
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sharonashwood/
Newsletter:   http://www.sharonashwood.com/newsletter/
Blog: http://www.sharonashwood.com/daily-strange/
Website:  http://www.sharonashwood.com
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/SharonAshwood
Facebook Fanpage:  https://www.facebook.com/authorsharonashwood



Buy Links:




Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Awakened by the Wolf Cover Reveal

Book Info

Paranormal Romance, Wolves
Publisher: Harlequin Nocturne
Pages: 304
Release Date: June 1, 2016

Book Blurb

Who's been sleeping in the Alpha's bed?

Exiled from his pack by his father, Brice Walker has secretly come home to visit his ailing grandmother only to discover a human and very desirable female sleeping in his bed. Their attraction is instant. But his new bed buddy seems determined to resist his Southern charm and Alpha allure. 

For Brice, fiercely independent Cassie not only represents a chance to build a new life in Walker's Run but is also his one true mate. Cassie's reluctance dissolves when a rogue shifter kidnaps her, and now she and Brice must work together to save his pack. But once she witnesses the savagery of wolfan justice, can Cassie accept Brice as man, beast and her true love?

Find the Book


Excerpt

Excerpt #1  (language warning)

The mixed feelings Brice had about his homecoming knotted into concern. Granny knew wolfan law forbade adult males and females of blood relation to share bedding, so why had she fallen asleep in his room?

“Granny?” He eased onto the edge of the mattress and touched her leg.

An unfamiliar feminine gasp prickled the skin along his spine.
“Who the hell are you?” Brice didn’t mean to sound so rough and angry, but pain and exhaustion made him edgy and terse.

“Stay away from me!” The woman kicked out of bed and grappled with the bedside lamp.

“Fuck!” The sudden brightness stung like a fistful of sand slung in his face. Shielding his light-sensitive eyes behind his arm, Brice tuned into his other senses. The air thickened. He could almost taste the sharp tang of her fear. Her breaths came hard and fast.

“Get out before I call the cops,” she demanded.

“With what? Telepathy?” To his knowledge, Granny had one telephone. A landline in the kitchen.

“I have a cell phone.” The uncertainty in the woman’s voice said she didn’t.

“Nice try.” Swiping his eyes, Brice sensed a change in the air pressure, heard a hitch in her breathing. His instinct warned that she had inched to her right.

“I don’t need my eyes to track you.” He pointed to where he knew she stood.

The woman stopped moving and quite possibly stopped breathing. Nothing but howling silence filled the space between them. Any second she would hit the floor in a dead faint. Brice forced his eyes to open.

Not that he had any doubts, but the fragile-looking young woman pressed against the wall was definitely not his grandmother. Wild spirals of red hair gave her a sexy bed-head look regardless of the cornered animal glint in her cinnamon eyes.

She wore an old Maico High baseball jersey. Wait. That was his old baseball jersey.

His bed, his clothes. What else had she claimed that belonged to him?

And why?

She was human and likely unaware of the implications of marking a male Wahya’s belongings with her scent.

As if he could smell her anyway.

Still, that this small slip of a woman had claimed his discarded clothes and his abandoned bed sparked a possessive thump in his chest. His gaze prowled the small swell of her breasts and the narrow curve of her hips cloaked beneath his shirt.
She sported the longest legs he’d ever seen on someone so petite. Soft, toned legs that inspired steamy visions of them tangled around his hips as he moved inside her until she shattered in ecstasy, breaking him with her.

The full moon had passed, so his attraction was real. Not something prompted by primitive hormones riddling him to fuck the nearest willing female. That this one didn’t look so willing was like an ice dump on his stiffening cock.




About the Author

Southern born and bred, Kristal Hollis grew up amid cane fields and orange groves. Books fed her imagination, providing adventurous portals to ancient civilizations, medieval fiefdoms, alternate realities and futuristic worlds. Then, a friend gave her Johanna Lindsey’s FIRES OF WINTER, a historical romance which ignited a life-long love affair with romantic fiction.

After earning a degree in psychology, Kristal has enjoyed career and volunteer endeavors that have included sales, banking, social services, and animal rescue. When a family medical situation required her to take a work sabbatical, she began penning deliciously dark paranormal romances as an escape from the real-life drama. Even though the crisis passed, her passion for writing continues.

Currently, Kristal lives with her husband and two rescued dogs at the edge of the enchanted forest that inspires her stories.


The Giveaway
Kristal is giving away a print copy of Awakened by the Wolf! Open INT.
To enter please fill out the giveaway widget!