Sample Her Lethal Crown Assassin – #DarkRomance #SteamyRomance #NewRelease

A stand-alone spin-off from the Untameable series! More than 450 pages of pure passion!

Ambrosia

I’ve been kidnapped by a gorgeous Brit killer from Switzerland and flown in his private jet to London.

He’s cultured and charming despite being a stone-cold Crown assassin. The plan is to use me to lure my father, a notorious international criminal, to come out of his secret lair. But my father and I have no love lost between us.

To the puzzlement of my to-die-for aristocratic abductor, I enjoy my captivity and the twisted attraction I feel for him. Even the mere scent of him.

Being cultured, he feels obligated to treat me with decency. I take advantage. I’ll charm the pants off his neat British ass. But he’s knighthood to the core and about as easily charmed as the Rock of Gibraltar.

Damien

A mission for the Crown. To catch the elusive global criminal, the Phantom. As a Royal Marines Commando, I’m all in for the challenge. I kidnap the Phantom’s daughter to smoke her father out of the woodwork.

Now I’m stuck with babysitting her in the London apartment 24/7.

But the broken rebel mafia girl is high-octane, lethal enchantment in black lipstick and piercings. Ambrosia makes sin amazingly gorgeous.

I'm tempted to taste the lethal darkness looming around her...

Note from the author: This book contains scenes that might trigger some readers. Please read responsibly.

Excerpt

The Adonis—the less controlled one of the two Brits, who nearly slapped me while looking like the commanding lord for submission—lowers his ass on the couch opposite mine. I immediately long for my lollypop in my mouth to comfort me.

“I have to talk to you, Spitting Cobra,” he begins as I fix him with my eyes. His pale lashes scream at the world to clip them.

“That’s not my name.”

“It is,” he says, scowling at me from under those scythe-blade-long lashes.

His eyes are an electric indigo that straddles blue and violet, buzzing with energy. The sort of gaze that activates a woman’s heartbeats to race, her nipples to pearl, and heat to descend to between her legs and drum there like conga beats. A towering six-three-or-four, with the near-white blond hair, he had gazillions of Viking genes nestling in his blood. If I hadn’t heard him talk with that distinct upper crust accent, I’d have placed him squarely on the Scandinavian turf. Even when he said Bloody American cunt

, it sounded like a meritocratic compliment.

“Either that or Sewer Rat. Take your pick.” He eases back into his seat like the quintessential lounge lizard.

I almost hold my breath expecting his forked tongue to blitz out and lick me into him by my eyeballs. The intensity of the moment makes me shoot my eyes at his partner, Yellow Eyes, walking down the aisle away from us towards the aft section. His eyes are glued to the phone he’s fiddling with in his hands.

I yank my eyes back to Scandinavian. “I prefer my name to your judgemental fantasies.” I leave it there as he pins me with the electric indigo-violets that spear my guts. Like receiving a steady stream of double laser swords aimed below the chest at the viscera.

“Heavens forbid, Sewer Rat. The last things I’d ever fantasize about are reptiles and rodents.”

Calling me sewer rat reminds me of Dad’s pet name for me: Topolina. Little Mouse. Only that Dad means it affectionately.

“What do you want to talk about?” Might as well get it all behind me.

“Let’s clear the name angle first, Spitting Cobra. Which is it?”

“I have a name, s—”

“All humans and most domesticated animals do.”

He says that in a tone that explicitly asserts that he, of course, is light years above humans; forget animals, domesticated and otherwise. He’s unto himself a unique special species.

Lounge lizard by way of his posture on his seat, but not in manners. He’s as controlled as a nuclear plant and as confident as the proud peacock. I presume he relies on his Norse god looks and British imperial superiority aura to steer him through life among his peers. I’ve never met anybody who makes me feel fucking inferior. I’m a Giannovecci Derossa. We own the world and subject everything in and around it.

Buy Links for Her Lethal Crown Assassin

US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DWFD96G9

UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DWFD96G9

CA https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0DWFD96G9

AU https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0DWFD96G9

NL https://www.amazon.nl/dp/B0DWFD96G9

DE https://www.amazon.de/dp/B0DWFD96G9

FR https://www.amazon.fr/dp/B0DWFD96G9

About the Author

A P von K’Ory writes romance, psychological thrillers, and nonfiction. She loves diversity – it’s in her aristocratic DNA. She has won more than half a dozen prizes and awards from four continents. Her family stretches from the Nilotes of the Eastern African Nile Delta to Germany, France, and the Walloons (Belgium). She lectures Economics and Sociology in Austria, Germany, and Switzerland. She’s married and has a son. Being migratory – and weather willing – she lives in Germany, France, Cyprus, and Greece.

Connect with A P von K'Ory

A P VON K'ORY can be reached under the links below.

Visit her Website: http://apvonkory.com

Signup for her Newsletter: https://apvonkory.com/contact

Instagram

https://www.instagram.com/apvonkory

Amazon Author Central: https://www.amazon.com/stores/A-P-Von-KOry/author/B00MDHD7ZS

The latest interviews and news about Shana und Roman on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Goshanaliterotic

It would be lovely if you could visit and like her author page and read more bites about Alyssa and Prince Carl-Theodor, Leo and Adrian, the Coming Soon(s), Cover Reveals and even about what she had for breakfast, the dinner she burnt to cinders the night before or the perfect cake she baked for Sunday family coffee.

Here’s my Author page link:

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAPVonKOry

Follow her on Twitter under: @Apky11162 https://twitter.com/Apky11162

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7063572.A_P_Von_K_Ory

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/a-p-von-k-ory

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/APvonK'Ory

Google Play: https://play.google.com/books/publish/u/0/a/14014035798980597784#list

Verve Romance: https://ververomance.com/app/APVonKOry

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.de/akinyi100/

Autorenecke (German): https://www.autorenecke-gelsenkirchen.de/autorenecke/a-p-von-k-ory 

Do not tempt me again, girl... #PNR #Vampire #FreeBook #MFRWHooks

Welcome to this week’s MFRW Book Hooks blog hop – and to another opportunity to win prizes as part of my Haunted October event.

My hook today is from my bisexual vampire romance Fin d’Espoir. A reviewer once called it “a philosopher’s erotic tale”, and I think that’s an apt summary.

I hope you like the hook. I’ll give away one copy of the book to a randomly selected reader who leaves a comment on this post. Furthermore, every comment is an entry toward my grand prize of a $25 gift certificate.

Blurb

Bitter and alone, Etienne de Rémorcy haunts the forest around the ruined plantation of Fin d'Espoir. He has sworn to never again taste human blood. Then a fierce storm and a runaway horse bring a slender, raven-haired beauty to his lair. When she begs him to take her, he cannot resist.

Madeleine and Troy hope that a carefree vacation in tropical Jamaica will reignite their faded passion. On a mountain trail ride, Maddy's horse bolts, carrying her deep into the jungle. Injured and lost, she is saved by a giant of a man whose mere presence kindles unbearable desire. By the time she understands his dark nature, it is far too late for her to escape.

When Maddy returns, Troy finds her greatly changed : ravenous in bed, restless and disturbed otherwise. The elegant stranger he meets on the beach holds the key to her transformation - and soon has seduced Troy as well.

Tortured by his conscience, Etienne is determined to set the young couple free. But their love may be his last hope for redemption.

The Hook

Iron and salt. The taste woke Madeleine from voluptuous dreams. For a moment, she clung to the fleeing visions of naked flesh. She didn’t want the pain of consciousness. Her shoulders ached, her neck burned and her pussy felt raw and sore. Something sticky was smeared across her lips. She opened her mouth. Iron and salt flowed over her tongue.

“Swallow, now.” The elegant French-tinged voice was irresistible. She obeyed, only to have another gout of the thick liquid dripped into her mouth. Wearily, she opened her eyes.

Etienne sat beside her, wearing a grim expression. He held his hand close to her face. Crimson fluid dribbled from a two-inch gash across his wrist, a shocking contrast to his inky skin. “Drink, Madeleine. It will restore your strength.”

The bright droplets called to her, but she was too weak to raise her head.

“Here.” He pressed his oozing flesh to her lips. She lapped at the blood, then fastened her mouth on the wound and sucked. The flavor grew on her, became complex and nuanced. She tasted cinnamon and pepper, almonds and ripe plums. The scent of roses filled her nostrils, making her head swim. She closed her eyes in bliss and increased her suction, each swallow making her want more.

“That is enough.” Etienne removed his wrist. “That should be sufficient to restore you.”

“Just another few drops,” Maddy pleaded. Her myriad pains had vanished. She felt alert and invigorated. She heard the bleak call of an owl outside the shack and the groan of branches in the wind. She smelled the charred coals on the grate, rotting wood, and her own sweat. She searched Etienne’s somber face, trying to read his thoughts. “Please?”

“No. It would be too dangerous.”

Maddy wriggled lasciviously on the damp sheets. She fondled her breasts, which were outrageously sensitive, and parted her sticky thighs.

Etienne’s brows knitted together in a scowl. “I said no, and I mean no. Do not try to tempt me again, girl. I have done enough damage already.”

His obvious misery slightly dampened her blood-lust. She took his hand in both her own, noting in passing how her wrists were chafed from his belt. “It’s all right. You only took what I offered. It was not your fault. You’re not responsible.”

“Of course I am responsible!” He tore his hand from her grasp. Rising like a black colossus, he hovered over her. Maddy had the fleeting notion that he wanted to strangle her. Instead, he paced back and forth, oblivious to the splintered floorboards under his bare feet.

“You are a fool. A child. You do not understand who or what I am, not even now, after I came close to drinking you dry. All you can see is my glamor, my cursed beauty that makes every mortal desire me.”

 

Find the buy links at: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/findespoirbook.html

Leave me a comment to enter my giveway for a free copy of the book (chosen next Wednesday) and a $25 GC (on Halloween).

I hope you’ll visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks, too.

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Censorship is so 1984... #Censorship #FreeSpeech #BannedBooksWeek

Didn’t you grow up reading? I did. Throughout my youth, I spent much of my free time in the fascinating fictional worlds I found in books. Now, having lived more than seven decades, reading continues to be a singular joy in my life. I spend at least some time reading for pleasure almost every day.

Even when I was a kid, I was fortunate in that I could read pretty much whatever I wanted. My parents weren’t worried that I’d be “corrupted”. They trusted me—and wanted me to develop the ability to read critically and to make my own decisions.

Alas, fewer young people have that freedom every year. Requests to ban books from libraries and even bookstores have reached epidemic proportions. I suspect that quite a few of the “adult” titles I read during my teens aren’t nearly as available now.

From October 5th through 11^th, the American Library Association is observing its annual Banned Books Week (https://www.ala.org/bbooks/banned). They note that the number of requests to ban books has increased dramatically in the past five years. More than two thirds of these requests come from organized, partisan pressure groups—not from concerned individuals or parents. We’re facing a war against reading freedom. Readers and authors need to organize and fight back.

What can you do?

Become a member of Authors Against Book Bans: https://www.authorsagainstbookbans.com/ Join your voice to those of your colleagues.

Apply for a grant from the Freedom to Read Foundation: https://www.ftrf.org/page/Grants They support libraries, students and individuals working to promote intellectual freedom and the right to read.

 

If you’re an author, sign up for one of the Author Safety roundtable events highlighted in the image below. Today’s ubiquitous social media make it all to easy for disapproving so-called readers to harass authors on-line. Learn how to protect yourself.

Buy a copy of one of this years ten most often often challenged books from 2024. https://www.ala.org/bbooks/frequentlychallengedbooks/top10

ALA compiles a list like this every year. I just ordered a copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower – tied for number 3 on the list.

Don’t give up, and don’t give in! Spread the word about Banned Books Week. Fight back against censorship. 

Cherish your right to read.

Fighting for survival – #Dystopian #SciFi #Giveaway #Review

Blurb

In a ruined, distant future of our world, filled with rain, gloom, and danger, Squirt and her sister Dara fight to survive as part of the underground clan, hunting meat to survive and clinging to the edges of existence.

When Squirt encounters a mysterious figure above ground, her life is upended. Taken to a gleaming paradise above the clouds, she finds herself trapped in an idyllic prison, where everything seems perfect—but is danger hiding in plain sight? Does Charlotte, her enigmatic and gentle companion, hide secrets behind her perfect smile? Does Mrs Wallis, the tower's cold matriarch, watch Squirt with a predator's patience?

Below, Dara hunts alone, trying to find meaning in her life and haunted by her sister's disappearance while whispers of betrayal within the clan force her to choose between being a victim or fighting for her survival.

As the sisters' paths converge, truths are exposed: immortality comes at a terrible price, and the ones they've trusted most may be their greatest enemies. Above the Clouds is a haunting tale of the fight for survival and identity, asking the question: What does it truly mean to be human?

Excerpt

She made it to the side of the ruins, ducked under a concrete slab, and crouched silently, listening and watching the darkness. She allowed her ears and eyes to acclimate to the noises and darkness of the ruins, the dripping water, the scurrying of a rat, the rattle of a falling piece of rock, and the sounds men made.

She sniffed and smelled something. Something cooking.

Rat! she thought.

Moving slowly and cautiously, she crept out from her hiding place, not making a sound. She climbed onto a slab of concrete laying diagonally and crawled upward until she was looking down at where Chagga sat on a rock, roasting a pair of skinned rats above a fire. Adam was standing, shaking and banging the water off his furs. Chagga was speaking.

“...Tomorra, when the hunters head out, make sure our men are on guard at the big tube that comes in by the butcher…”

Hidden in the shadows above, Dara silently slipped her quiver from her shoulder.

“...That is where we attack…Once we have taken control, all those who have no faith will be butchered, and we will call Major Tom, and he will pick up, and he will send the riders, and we leave for Marbro Country!”

She rolled onto her back and slid two arrows from the quiver.

“Can you trust this bandit, Barg, father?” said Adam.

Gently, she laid one of the arrows on the concrete, and the other she notched.

“No,” said Chagga firmly. “But I need them to do in the guards while you kill the chief.”

She rolled, holding the bow with her left hand, pulling the bowstring back.

Kill Adam, and the others won’t know the plan? she thought. Or kill Chagga, and there is no plan?

She closed her left eye, pulling the string tighter.

Kill them both!

Review by Lisabet Sarai

For centuries, the Clan has clung to life in the subway tunnels of a long-ruined city, sheltering from the incessant rain and the toxic residues of a nuclear apocalypse. Only rigid adherence to strict social rules has kept the community alive. Scarce food is shared and rationed. Unpleasant but necessary jobs are assigned based on skill, not preference. Infractions are punished by mutilation or death. And every member of the Clan, even the Chief, is subject to the “hard goodbye” when they turn fifty years old, forced to leave the tunnels to survive or perish on the surface, so as not to burden the Clan as they age and are no longer useful.

Squirt and her younger sister Dara are trained Hunters, responsible for trapping and killing whatever animals they can find to supply the Clan with desperately-needed meat. Exposed to the dangers outside the tunnels, they must be quick, clever, observant, courageous—and ruthless when threatened. But the world becomes more perilous daily, as vicious bandits grow in strength and plot against the tunnel-dwellers.

Then Squirt discovers that not everyone in the world is struggling, when she’s spirited away to a seeming paradise atop tall towers that pierce the perpetual layer of cloud. Who are the people that inhabit these privileged realms? What is their history? And why have they rescued Squirt?

Above the Clouds is an engaging and powerful story that kept me riveted through most of its length. The vivid depiction of life in the Clan felt eminently plausible. Human beings are incredibly adaptable; I could see how the Clan society might evolve, a harsh but mostly fair adjustment to the devastating realities of a shattered world.

Squirt and Dara are both admirable despite the violence they so easily can inflict. I am a cat lover, so it was difficult to read about them hunting strays, but they clearly are forced to do so. The interesting thing is that despite the indoctrination and social pressures exercised by the Clan, they prove that they can make independent choices. Again, I find this a valid observation about human nature. We balance social good against individual needs, trying to find a path that can satisfy both.

One aspect of the story that particularly rang true was the home-grown religion of the Clan. I won’t spoil things by going into detail, but the author shows how superstition and hope intertwine—as well as how unscrupulous individuals can manipulate spiritual beliefs for their own benefit.

Squirt’s experiences above the clouds, and the revelations about her hosts, did not impress me as much as the sections about the Clan. I was left with many questions about how the parallel society managed to evolve, although it’s clear, looking at the world today, that apocalypse would not have nearly as devastating an effect on the wealthy and powerful as on ordinary people.

Above the Clouds is generally well-written, but there was one aspect that bothered me. As she becomes involved with the tower people, Squirt encounters objects and phenomena that are completely unfamiliar. The author had a tendency at these points to slip out of the character’s point of view; he explains too much, rather than allowing us to experience the incomprehensibility of the new world through Squirt’s eyes. As a result, this section of the book felt less compelling than the earlier parts involving the Clan. It seemed to me that given her background, Squirt adapted too quickly and easily to her new world.

Given the youth of its heroines, I wonder if the author intended Above the Clouds for a young adult audience. In any case, I enjoyed the story and would recommend it for its gritty, detailed picture of life after nuclear devastation, as well as for its insights about society and civilization.

About the Author

Tim works in digital marketing in Toronto and is well-traveled, having visited over 80 countries. When he is not working or writing, he likes to spend time with his family and German Shepherd and go cycling.

Social Links

Website: https://timvee.com/

X: https://x.com/_Tim_Vee_

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21960899.Tim_Vee

Buy Links

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/above-the-clouds/id6741713791

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=ddhFEQAAQBAJ

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Above-Clouds-post-apocalyptic-Tim-Vee-ebook/dp/B0DTJL73QM/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1704940

Note that this post counts as part of my Haunted October event. Every comment counts as an entry toward my grand prize of a $25 gift certificate.

Tim Vee will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Enter below!

A Touch of Magic – #Paranormal #Giveaway #HauntedOctober

Although my early novels were contemporary and at least superficially realistic, I’ve been drawn to paranormal fiction for a long time. When I was just a kid, my dad would thrill my siblings and me with his original tales of magic and monsters. I spent high school (mentally and emotionally) living in supernaturally-infused Middle Earth. The first novel I tried to write, in my teens, featured a romance between a woman living in a New England seacoast town and the ghost of a ship’s captain from more than a century before. (Unfortunately I never got past the third chapter.)

I started seriously writing paranormal romance back in 2006. I will be showcasing many of my books over the next month as part of my Haunted October event. Naturally, I've also read quite a few paranormal books by my literary colleagues.

I've found that there's a big difference between my work and that of most of my paranormal colleagues. My paranormal stories are very firmly grounded in the real world. I don't generally invent underground societies or rival magical races. I haven't, so far, created any fantasy kingdoms populated by beings who with super powers. Almost all my characters are normal humans who just happen to be afflicted with paranormal capabilities.

Serpent's Kiss is set in rural Guatemala. The heroine is a physician running basic clinic in a remote, poverty-stricken village more or less ignored by the central government. The hero is a handsome peasant who discovers that he is the shape-shifting reincarnation of a Mayan god. Scenes of magic and wonder alternate with the routine of Elena's work and the trials of the villagers.

At the Margins of Madness has an urban setting, complete with tenements and homeless shelters. Kyle is a young man driven nearly insane by his true visions of the future. His lover Rob is a gruff, honest city cop, closeted and lonely, with psychic abilities he's not even aware of. The action of the story plays out in neighborhood diners, highway rest areas and the locked ward of the state psychiatric hospital―not in the jeweled castles of dark emperors or the barren plains of mythical kingdoms.

Fangs, Fur and the Single Girl is probably my story that’s closest to the paranormal romance tradition, featuring as it does the rivalry between vampire and werewolf tribes. Still, the powers of each race are quite circumscribed and they exercise them within the constraints of everyday society.

Sometimes I ask myself whether my tendency to firmly root my paranormals in mundane reality is a weakness. Is this a sign that I lack the imagination to create a parallel universe? I don't think so. The problem with magical worlds is that, too frequently, there are no laws. The powers wielded by the characters are so great that they can twist the plot in all sorts of implausible directions. Mortal wounds can heal. The dead can be resurrected. Space and time melt away. It's all too easy.

I'd rather have a fairly simple premise involving a limited set of powers. Then I enjoy seeing how these powers interact with the forces of nature and man. I have the same preferences in the science fiction that I read. One of my favorite scifi authors is Kate Wilhem. She begins with a single, simple idea―an immortality serum, or an encounter with a cloud of space dust that alters the properties of water―and then goes on to explore the societal and individual implications.

I do worry sometimes that readers won't share my preferences. I can see the appeal of an escapist romance that includes Big Magic―apocalyptic struggles between good and evil, cliff-hanging climaxes resolved by the invocation of irresistible power. These stories are like big budget movies, full of amazing special effects. My books are more like indie films, where less is more.

Maybe my stories won't appeal to the average paranormal romance reader (if such a person exists). I guess I'm seeking readers who are looking for something different―a realistic story with believable, sympathetic characters―and just a touch of magic.

This post is part of my Haunted October event. Every comment is an entry to my grand prize giveaway of a $25 gift certificate.

Reeling with desire – #PNR #Giveaway #HauntedOctober #MRWHooks

Image by Susana Cipriano from Pixabay

Today’s the first day of October, my favorite month. I lived for many decades in New England, where every year I welcomed October as the glorious onset of full autumn: the blaze of foliage, a million shades of red and gold; the crisp air, laced with the scent of ripe apples; the harvest moon silvering the corn stalks; and of course Halloween, that haunted night when anything is possible.

This year I’m hosting a month long celebration of Halloween magic. I’ll be featuring excerpts from my many paranormal titles and giving away free copies. On Halloween, I’ll be giving away a $25 gift certificate, drawing the winner from among readers who leave comments on any post during the month. I’ll have additional opportunities to win for people on my VIP email list. (To join, go to: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh)

So check back frequently, and comment often!

Today’s excerpt comes from my shapeshifter romance The Eyes of Bast. I’ll give away a free copy to one person who leaves a comment!

Blurb

Trust your heart. Follow your dreams.

When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she’s set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice. The sleek black cat she finds has a terrible secret. Tom is an unwilling shape shifter, cursed by a sorceress who craved a human plaything. Shaina vows to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate—though it might mean losing him forever.

The Hook

“I’ve got to go. Every minute we are together increases your danger. She’s somewhere in this city, seeking me. She’ll find me, before long. She’ll find us and when she does, she’ll punish you as viciously as she will me.” With a grace that almost made me sob, he rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom. “If you’ll lend me some money, I can be on an outbound bus in a couple of hours.”

I followed him, standing in the doorway as he splashed water on his face and under his arms, then patted himself dry with my towel. Despite his washing, his musky odor filled the tiny cubicle. I ached to hold him tight, to never release him. Still, I knew that he wouldn’t lie to me. He wanted to stay with me. I had no doubt of that, could feel it in my very bones. But he didn’t dare.

I watched, feeling totally helpless, as he dressed himself in the jeans and jersey he’d worn that evening we’d met in the park. Had he left them here? I couldn’t recall. All that I remembered was that incredible sense of connection—physical, emotional, spiritual. How could I let him go?

I slipped into my robe, somehow not wanting to be naked when he was clothed. My mind whirled as I sought some way to keep him with me.

“You can’t run forever, Tom. We’ve got to find her, before she finds us, so we can break the spell.”

“Find one woman in this hive of eight million souls?” His laugh was bitter. “You’re dreaming, Shaina.”

“Gram always told me that dreams point the way to truth.” I clasped the pendant I never took off, the one she’d given me as a girl, an abstract feminine shape she’d told me was carved from an ocelot’s tooth. The relic from her home island felt warm under my fingers. “You’re my dream, Tom—my heart’s desire. I won’t let you go.” I squared my shoulders and stepped closer, blocking his route to the door.

“Ah, woman—I don’t want to go.” He clasped me to his chest and once again, the world cartwheeled around us. Reeling with desire, I sought his lips and felt him surrender to me. One last time. I could almost hear his thoughts. 

 

Find buy links at: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/eyesofbastbook.html

Leave me a comment if you’d like to win a copy of this swoon-worthy paranormal romance. Plus every comment is a chance to win my $25 GC at the end of the month.

And please visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks hop.

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Charity Sunday: Compassion and Courage – #MSF #EmergencyMedicalCare #CharitySunday

Welcome to Charity Sunday for September.

Today I’m supporting an organization that, for me, is a model of compassion and courage: Médecins sans Frontières or Doctors without Borders. Since 1971 – for more than fifty years – MSF has been providing emergency medical assistance to victims of natural disasters and man-made conflicts. Staffed by volunteer doctors, nurses and other health professionals who work in often-horrific conditions for very limited compensation, MSF is distinguished by its commitment to deliver care to anyone who needs it, regardless of ethnicity, nationality or political affiliation.

Right now, MSF teams are working in Afghanistan to help the thousands of people left homeless by the recent earthquake; in Sudan, where civil war continues to devastate communities and families; in Burundi, where a deadly outbreak of cholera is threatening to undermine lives already left fragile due to poverty and poor infrastructure. Perhaps most critical, MSF is witnessing and responding to the desperate situation in Gaza, where more than 60,000 people have been killed by Israeli forces, millions are facing famine and not a single hospital has been left functioning. Israel’s unrelenting assault on the Palestinian enclave has killed more than 1,800 health professionals, including 13 MSF workers. Nevertheless, the organization continues to do what it can to offer care, while calling for an immediate halt to what the United Nations has labeled genocide.

Consider the courage required to continue serving as part of the MSF mission in Gaza, facing daily the possibility of death. Humanitarian workers should be protected, not targeted. I marvel at the level of compassion required to remain dedicated to helping the inhabitants of Gaza.

So today I pledge to contribute three dollars to MSF for each comment I receive on this post. But money alone is not enough. We must speak out against aggression and for peace. So I hope you’ll share this post widely, and raise the call for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and resumed distribution of food, water and other aid.

The situation in Gaza is so dire, it almost feels disrespectful to include an excerpt from one of my (normally fairly light-hearted) romance or erotic titles. On the other hand, maybe we need to be reminded that love exists in this violent world. So here’s a bit from my multi-genre, multi-partner, not-very-serious erotic romance Rajasthani Moon. 

 

Blurb

A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon

A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle torture and delight.

A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.

She has never faced such a challenge.

When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. Instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.

Excerpt

He groped for a moment, while she held her breath. His calloused fingers struck sparks from her flesh. Of course, he discovered her weapon almost instantly. He drew it out, chuckling once more when he saw its size. Her skin mourned the loss of his touch.

“What a surprise! A gun instead of the promised gold.” He tightened his hold on her wrists until she feared the bones would snap. “Who are you, my lady? Not, I think, a common traveller.”

“That’s none of your concern…sir.” Cecily decided that it might be wise to be polite.

“Oh, I think it is. Not many women travel on their own across the wastes of my country, especially in the most modern of conveyances. Those that do are wise to carry a weapon—but this one will not help you. Who sent you, madam? What is your business here?”

“I’ll not share my business with a common brigand.”

“And if I were someone else? Would you tell me then how and why you happen to cross my path?”

Cecily of course had a cover story. Her documents attested that she was the sister of a wealthy Bombay textile merchant, come to Rajasthan looking for business contacts. She was not, however, about to divulge anything to this rogue.

“I will tell you nothing.”

“Indeed? I think I may be able to change your mind.” After tucking the pistol into the folds of his garment, he drew out a length of what, aside from its strange silvery colour, looked like common rope. He dangled it near her trapped wrists. “Bind,” he said.

The rope came alive, coiling like a snake. Quick as a cobra strike, it looped itself around her forearms—once, twice, half a dozen times, pulling tighter with each cycle. Before she could devise a plan, Cecily found her crossed arms were laced together as firmly as the back of a corset.

“How dare you? Untie me at once!”

“So that you can stab me? Or shoot me? Who knows what other cunning devices you have hidden about your charming person? No, on the contrary, I think I’d be wise to bind your legs as well.”

He climbed into the carriage, bringing with him a strong odour of horse and male sweat. Although the vehicle was designed for two passengers, his considerable height and broad shoulders made it feel distinctly crowded, especially with Cecily’s non-trivial bulk occupying a significant area of the floor. He crouched down and reached for her ankle. She scooted away, kicking out at him. Her boot connected solidly with his shin.

“Shiva’s balls!” he cursed. “That hurts!” She cocked her knee back for a second blow, but he caught her foot in mid-kick and raised it until her leg was almost at right angles to her prone body. Her skirt slipped down, baring her knee and part of her thigh, and releasing a flood of her woman-scent.

The miscreant’s eyes widened. No doubt his nostrils flared as well, but they were hidden beneath his impromptu mask. Had Cecily been a fair English rose of a woman, her cheeks would have burnt bright pink. Her mixed heritage allowed her to hide her embarrassment.

“Unhand me, sir!”

Instead, he seized her other ankle, brought her leg parallel to the first, and whipped out another of his devilish self-binding ropes.

“No, please, sir!” Seeing that outrage would get her nowhere, Cecily decided to try deception. If he bound her legs, she would never be able to escape him. “Stop, please. I will reveal everything to you.”

“Of course you will, madam.” The mockery in his voice stung, especially when she remembered that most of her lower body was now visible to his sharp eyes. “Back at my quarters. Bind.”

In an instant, the robotic shackles wound themselves around her calves and ankles. She tried tensing her muscles, so as to create some slack later. The device clamped down with relentless power, forcing her to relax.

“There. I hope I’ll be safe now from your most unladylike aggression.”

Cecily fumed inside, but managed to maintain a calm demeanour.

The bandit grasped her around the waist with both hands. “Just have to get you out of this coach and onto my horse…” His rough fingers dug into her bare flesh, yet she missed the pain when he released her after heaving her body up onto the seat. “You’re not exactly delicate, but that’s fine with me. I prefer a woman with some meat on her bones.”

The substantial bulge in his dusty black pantaloons made his meaning more than clear.

“Do not imagine you’ll succeed in stealing my virtue, sir. I’ll kill myself first.”

“I doubt that very much.” She couldn’t see his grin, hidden as it was behind his mask, but she could feel it, hear it in his taunt. “If you were the virginal flower you pretend to be, I suspect you would not be travelling with this.”

He picked up the brass egg, its shiny surface now dulled by her secretions, and held it to his shrouded nose. “Mmm. Recently used, too.”

 

Please leave me a comment. And do whatever you can, personally, to stop the slaughter and starvation in the Middle East

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