Wednesday, September 29, 2021

Review Tuesday moved to Thursday: Together in Darkness by Sloan McBride -- #ParanormalRomance #Suspense #ReviewTuesday

Together in Darkness cover

Together in Darkness by Sloan McBride World of Dreams Publishing LLC, 2011

A serial killer is stalking young women, strangling and mutilating them, then leaving taunting personal messages for FBI Agent Jake Austin. When the murderer chooses a victim in Gloucester, Massachusetts, and Jake follows the trail of blood, he encounters Allison Brody, a woman of Gypsy descent who claims to have a mental connection to the killer. She can’t control her terrible visions; she’s forced to watch through his eyes as he researches and selects his victims then meticulously, almost lovingly, slaughters them. The intimacy of that gaze is horrifying but irresistible.

Jake doesn’t believe in the supernatural, even though as a “profiler” he has the ability to sense the emotional energies lingering at a crime scene. He has no patience with Allison’s claims, even when she is trying to prevent the next murder. Something about the woman triggers his concern and more, though, kindling feelings he believes he can’t afford. It doesn’t help that she’s fiendishly attractive and that their chemistry arouses him whenever she’s in the vicinity.

Allison has tried for a decade to suppress her hereditary powers, ever since she foresaw her parents’ tragic death. As The Surgeon stalks her, both psychically and physically, she start to realize that she can’t escape her destiny. She must embrace her abilities, develop and enhance them, to protect herself and break the chain of death.

When fellow author Sloan McBride mentioned in an author chat group that she had a novel set in Gloucester, I couldn’t resist buying a copy. Gloucester is one of my favorite places in the world – I have a paranormal book of my own set there, very different from Sloan’s – and I was deeply curious to see how someone else portrayed the town.

To be honest, I didn’t find much local color in Together in Darkness, though I recognized some of the geographic references. However, the premise and plot pulled me in to the story. I’ve written before about the personal price of paranormal abilities. This book takes the reader deep into the twisted recesses of a supernatural connection that is simultaneously terrifying and seductive.

I found Jake a bit irritating – he’s unrelentingly macho and has the self-awareness of a potato – but Allison is a fascinating character. Courageous and independent, she’s doing her very best to live with powers that seem to bring nothing but pain. Counseled by the ghost of her Gypsy grandmother, she finally accepts that only by using her supernatural abilities can she stop the killing.

The final resolution surprised me, though the author had provided hints. I was left with a number of unanswered questions. Still, I had to rejoice on Allison’s behalf when she and Jake finally admit that their connection is more than just lust.

Together in Darkness had some flaws, but for the most part was an enjoyable read. I’ll have to check out some of Sloan’s other books.

Tuesday, September 28, 2021

D & S isn’t a game – #MFRWHooks #EroticRomance #PowerExchange

The Understudy cover

Welcome to this week’s edition of the Marketing for Romance Authors Book Hooks blog hop!

Today I’m going back a few months to sample an exclusive excerpt from my BDSM erotic romance The Understudy: Acts of Submission. Enjoy!


One look from him and I melt. One word, and I’m on my knees.

When the Berks Hills Summer Playhouse offered me my first real acting job, I never expected to share a stage with theater legend Geoffrey Hart - let alone his bed. Nothing in my education or experience prepared me for the paradoxical pleasures of submission.

Now I’m devoted to my master, for better or worse. According to the rumors, though, Geoff’s heart is taken. Dumped by his long-time sub, he has escaped to the Berkshires to lick his emotional wounds. Geoffrey’s dark games arouse me beyond belief, but I fear I’m just a substitute for the real object of his affections. Am I willing to settle for the role of understudy in this perverse passion play?


The Hook

His mocking laughter rang through the room. He pulled me to my feet, far more roughly than I had expected. “Hold it right there! Did I give you permission to touch me?”

There was a cruel glint in his eye that worried me. “Uh, no, but I thought…”

His big hands circled my wrists. He held me at arm’s length. “It’s not your place to think. Your only responsibility is to obey.”

I just wanted to please you—sir.” The honorific came so naturally that I was shocked. What was I doing?

His voice mellowed. “You do please me. But I make the rules here—that is, as long as you’re interested in playing this game.”

I extricated myself from his grasp and brushed the hair out of my eyes. My shirt was still tangled under my armpits. I yanked it down to cover my bare breasts, not bothering to refasten the bra. “I thought you said that D and S wasn’t a game.”

He folded his arms across his chest and looked at me. I felt that he was judging me, weighing me up before deciding on his next move. Comparing me, perhaps, to his lost Anne. I straightened my spine to my full five-feet-two-inches and stared back. I was determined not to be intimidated.

Emotions flitted across his expressive face—annoyance, desire, amusement, something like sorrow. I wondered if anyone really ever knew him. I was all too familiar with how hard it could be for actors to separate their real selves from the roles they played.

You’re right. It’s not a game, though sometimes we pretend that it is. In any case, I can’t command your obedience. You have to consent, to give me your trust.”

His words stirred me, rousing something deeper than the lust I’d felt before. I didn’t understand what he was offering, not really, but I sensed its value. Our brief interlude had given me some clues. Still, I was mostly traveling blind.

How can I trust you when I don’t even know you?”

He stepped closer, but didn’t touch me. “We’ll take it more slowly from now on. Step by step. I’m sorry I pushed so hard this time. It’s just—I had this sense that you’re a natural submissive, Sarah. That you were born to be my slave.”

I tried not to show how his words thrilled me. I didn’t want to even think about why I had that reaction.

Let’s start with something simple, shall we? I already told you I don’t want you wearing a bra. Well, those jeans are damned inconvenient as well. So if you want to please me, from now on you’ll wear skirts or dresses only.”

But I only have two skirts with me, here in Massachusetts.”

I’ll take you shopping. I’ll dress you the way I want my slave to look.”

My blush was my only answer.

And no panties. Ever. I want to have you always accessible.”

What! I can’t…”

Of course you can. You will, for me. Won’t you?” The yearning in his eyes startled me. Did this really mean so much to him? Or was he just playing with my emotions?

Don’t answer me now. Go back to the theater. I’m sure you have work to do—besides entertaining the newly arrived leading man, that is.” He gave me a devilish grin as he led me to the exit. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight. And I’ll read your answer in what you’re wearing.”

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Monday, September 27, 2021

Musts for erotic romance I write or read – #RomanticSuspense #DesperateLove #Giveaway @Apky11162

Golden Shana: The Chase cover

By A P von K’Ory (Guest Blogger)

If you’re wondering what to expect from my books – here’s a list of what I value in erotic romance, as a writer and a reader.

  1. A strong female character who remains ultra-feminine but is no mimosa waiting for a strong someone else to rescue her.

  2. A male character, who elegantly rides that thin line between Gentleman and Rogue, cultured and demanding, but without stooping to that arrogantly stupid “Because that’s who I am” line. He has to be smart enough to say exactly that in a thousand different words but those.

  3. A love that wakes up slowly from deeper foundations than the social ladder and physical bedroom skills.

  4. Protagonists – male or female – who are beautiful / handsome in body as well as intellect.

  5. Sex that takes the lovers to outer space with the dueling of their bodies and minds vocally as well as emotionally.

  6. An Alpha man who, if she is “not to come until I say so” has a better argument to earn that privilege than “because I say so”. If he’s into topping all the way then he’d better be able to top while under her as well, in and out of bed.

  7. Conflicts for my protagonist that battle not only with those of the antagonist to reach his goal, but also with mine as the storyteller fighting for him to do honour to my theme.

  8. A female MC who makes the love of her life go through all the stages of the cross, so to speak, chasing after her before she succumbs – without falling on her knees before him. It’s a weakness of mine and my childhood love of Barbara Cartland. But, although my heroines are chased, they don’t necessarily remain chaste till the wedding night.


An evening at the La Scala in Milan twirls the lives of five people into a web of rivalry, intrigues, heartaches, obsession, murder, loss, and revenge.

“… for those who love selective eroticism with substance. An exciting and sophisticated erotic thriller for the astute romance reader, woman or man.”

Love, a word Roman can hardly spell, hits him when he sees Shana one evening. She’s the first woman not dropping to her knees at his mere presence. Used to getting whatever he wants, he chases her. Only to discovers that she prefers the girls. Roman can’t let that deter him. But is he for once up against his own comeuppance? At any rate, he needs assistance, which comes in the form of Alyssa, Shana’s BFF. Trouble crops up when Alyssa is all too ready and willing to drop on her knees for him.

Roman can't get anywhere near Shana on his own. Would he start anything with Alyssa as long as this finally leads him to meet Shana in person?

Then there’s Marie, his current companion, who has a life-changing surprise for him.

Roman: I never chased after a woman. Then I caught a glimpse of the woman I would kneel for, but didn’t even know her name. Heck, I determined to find her if it took me the rest of my life.

Shana: He stood in the room with her. The frisson in the currents freaking between them knocked her senseless. The mutual force of predator and prey, blasting into her core ... her soul ... Danger. Keep far away from him

Read Lisabet's review (of the earlier edition) here:


Are you a bloody dyke or not, Shana?” I was ready to hit the fucking roof.

It’s really none of your business. But Alyssa is—”

I strode purposefully to her, pulled her to me, raked one hand into her lustrous hair at the back of her neck, grabbed a handful of it firmly, and tilted her chin up with my other hand. I bent and kissed her hard on the eat-me-whole lips. Kissed her savagely, without trying to push my tongue into her mouth. I simply licked and sucked with force. She smelt of manmade scent and sultry womanhood.

She tasted like heaven and hell combined.

My penis announced its needs. I tipped her back further without breaking the kiss and pressed my London Stone against her. Voltages. Frenzied amps. She gave a short high-pitched squeal. Off the charts lust, boiling deep within her. I pressed her harder to my breast while I rubbed my London Stone against her lower belly.

As her lips began to yield, to slightly part, to surrender to me, to let me take full possession of her mouth, I stopped kissing her and pressing against her. I jerked her head away from me by my handful of hair and locked my eyes with hers again.

Yes?” as imperiously as she had been. I saw her confusion.

She whispered, “Oh heavens,” and closed her eyes.

Indeed. Look at me,” I ordered in a low dark voice, torn between a million shades of mad and frustrated.

She opened her eyes again in blinks. “Roman. Alyssa has fallen in love with you, one. She’s my best friend since childhood, two. And yes, she’s my lover too.”

My temples worked. But you’re a man’s woman! “Not any more, Shana. From now on, every single bit of you belongs to me. You’re. My. Woman.”

She shook her head, probably denying my statements, probably perplexed.

You. Are.” I still held that bunch of hair at the back of her head in a firm fist.

Roman, I don’t mind Alyssa having men in her life. But—”

Time you had one too. Me.”

Christ, Roman, men don’t work for me since—”

One just did perfectly with no more than just a kiss, Dr Lindqvist.”

I released her. Turned away and walked out.

About the Author

A P von K’Ory writes the kind of books she herself would like to read and is passionate about, whether romance, psychological thriller or nonfiction. She is the winner of six awards from four continents, the last one being the Achievers Award for Writer of the Year 2013 in the Netherlands. The Selmere Integration Prize was awarded her in 2014 for her engagement in helping African Women in the Diaspora cope with a variety of domestic and social problems. The Proposal, a short story, won the Cook Communications first prize in 2010 and is published in an American anthology Africa 2012. In 2012, she won the Karl Ziegler Prize for her commitment to bring African culture to Western society in various papers, theses, and lectures. Again in 2012, her book Bound to Tradition: The Dream was nominated for the 2012 Caine Prize by the Author-me Group, Sanford, and in 2013 she was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Prize.

Von K'Ory is married to an aristocrat and politician of Franco-German descent, has a large extended family. She lectures Economics and Sociology in Austria, Germany and Switzerland. She’s migratory and – weather willing – lives in Germany, France, Cyprus, and Greece.

She may be reached at any of the following:

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Sunday, September 26, 2021

The most effective antidote to extremism - #CharitySunday #Afghanistan #Education

Charity Sunday Banner

Today is Charity Sunday. One Sunday per month, I dedicate my blog to some worthy cause. I share a bit about the organization with you, then pledge to donate a certain amount for each comment that I receive. Over the past year, I’ve been grateful to have other authors join me in the activity, so that Charity Sunday has become a blog hop.

Your comments on today’s post will support SOLA, the School of Leadership Afghanistan. SOLA is a private boarding school for Afghani girls. I’ve devoted at least one other Charity Sunday to SOLA, but with the Taliban’s reclaiming control of the country, the school has become even more essential, and their situation more desperate. In fact, all the young women studying at SOLA are now in exile. How painful to have to choose between one’s home and an education! 

If you have the time, please read this recent editorial from the Washington Post by Shabana Basij-Rasikh, SOLA’s founder. She makes a strong case that women’s education is not only a human right, it’s also an effective way to counter the cruelty and violence associated with religious extremism.

For each comment you leave on this post, I will donate two dollars to SOLA. Even if you don’t feel like commenting, though, I hope you’ll help keep the women of Afghanistan visible in the eyes of the world. These women are brave, but if we forget them, they’re all to easy to erase.

Meanwhile, as usual on Charity Sunday, I also have an excerpt to entertain you, and thank you for your visit. This is a fun and feminist snippet from my steampunk erotica novel The Pornographer’s Apprentice. Gillian is certainly a poster child for women’s education! 


They paused at the second of at least four landings. Gillian could not discern just how far the stairs spiralled upward. Turning right, they traversed a carpeted hall to a door at the end. Ian gave a soft knock.


The door swung open to reveal a bright, airy room outfitted as an office. A carved mahogany desk occupied the centre of the room. The middle-aged woman seated behind it rose to her feet as Gillian and Ian stepped into her domain. “I believe you’re needed in the lab, Mr. Burns,” she said, dismissing him with a nod. He scampered away, pulling the door shut behind him.

Silk skirts rustling, Mrs. Featherstone stalked across the Oriental rug until she and Gillian were face to face. Gillian forced herself to meet the older woman’s gaze. In those hazel eyes she read suspicion, curiosity, and if she was not mistaken, a hint of lust. Gillian perhaps imagined the last emotion, influenced by the fact that Mrs. Featherstone strongly resembled the dark-haired aggressor in the Sapphic painting she’d admired earlier. Whether the licentious intent was real or not, the elegant creature’s stare kindled a rush of arousal that left Gillian aching and breathless.

In silence, each woman tried to read the other. Self-discipline and impatience warred in Gillian’s heart. The latter finally triumphed.

She held out her hand. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Featherstone. I’m Gillian Smith. As I believe you already know, I’d like to join your organisation.”

The other woman nodded, without smiling. “Straight to the point, aren’t you?” She gestured toward to one of the brocade-upholstered chairs arrayed in front of the desk. “Please be seated, Miss Smith. I’m Amelia Featherstone, Governing Director of the Toymakers Guild.”

Gillian welcomed the chance to sit. The heat of the woman’s gaze had left her feeling a bit weak. “Thank you, ma’am.” It occurred to her to wonder whether there was a Mr. Featherstone, and if so, how he coped.

Mrs. Featherstone had an interesting rather than beautiful face, with sharply defined cheekbones, a rather square jaw and an aristocratic nose. Her gleaming, near-black hair was woven into an elaborate chignon at the back of her neck, threaded with tiny pearls that matched the ones dangling from her earlobes. Though it showed no more skin than was acceptable even beyond the gates of Randerley, the cut of her dress was daring, drawing attention to her ample curves.

Rather than returning to her seat behind the desk, Mrs. Featherstone claimed a chair opposite Gillian’s. “Now then. Tell me your story. How did you find out about the Guild? And why do you want to become one of us?”

Gillian took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. “I was born in Blackpool,” she began, “the only child of two engineers, Barnaby Smith and Alicia Dorn. Between them, they patented over a hundred inventions.”

The names sound familiar. Weren’t they responsible for the virtual book reader?”

Gillian nodded. “Also the piezoelectric pocket watch and the personal gramophone.”

Oh, my! Your family must have been quite wealthy.”

Alas, my parents’ brilliance did not extend to managing money.” Gillian sighed. “The local schools proving to be an insufficient challenge, I was educated at home. Needless to say, I have a strong grounding in science and mathematics, though my parents did not neglect the humanities. I had intended to apply to university but during my sixteenth year, my parents lost their lives testing their solar-powered airship.”

I believe I read about the accident in The Times. On their way to the South Seas, as I recall.” The Governing Director licked her ripe lips and leaned forward. Her green tartan bodice pulled tight over her generous bust. The lace collar exposed her pale, smooth throat.

Gillian swallowed hard, trying to collect her thoughts. She needed to impress this woman with her knowledge and intelligence. Perhaps Mrs. Featherstone was trying to seduce her. Perhaps this notion was but a product of Gillian’s salacious imagination. Either way, she needed to keep her wits about her until her position in the Guild was secured.

By the time my parents’ creditors had all been paid, I found I was close to penniless. My only option was a position in the household of my father’s brother, a medical doctor, and his second wife. As tutor to their children, I received a small salary as well as access to my uncle’s extensive library and his laboratory. A few months after I arrived, however, my uncle passed away. My aunt by marriage was not at all fond of me. As soon as I reached the age of majority, I left.”

This was of course not the complete history, but there was little to be gained by explaining the messy business with Lyle. Aunt Martha’s son by her first husband, Lyle had hounded Gillian from the first day she arrived. On her nineteenth birthday, motivated by curiosity, ill-advised sympathy and her own clamorous desires, she’d accepted his advances, only to find she’d squandered her virginity on an ignorant and insensitive boor. In his fury at being rejected, he’d accused her of theft and unnatural sexual practices. Of course, the latter charge was in some sense true, if you considered anything other than heterosexual activity to be deviant.

Mrs. Featherstone shook her head. “What an unfortunate tale. Still, you haven’t explained how you discovered the Guild, or why you think yourself suited to the work we do.”

Gillian extracted the catalogue from her holdall. “I found this among Uncle George’s books.”

The Director leafed through the provocative pages, a smile playing on her lips. “Hmm… Yes, the winter 1886 edition was rather spectacular… But an innocent young woman like you must have found our merchandise quite shocking.”

Not at all. You should not make assumptions about my innocence, Mrs. Featherstone.”

You may call me Amelia, if you wish.” The woman flashed a smile that struck Gillian as distinctly predatory. “At least when we are in private.”

Gillian sat up straight and boldly met the older woman’s gaze. “I’ve made good use of the volumes in my uncle’s library, both the technical tomes and the more —artistic titles. My theoretical grounding in carnal matters is as strong as my engineering background.”

In carnal matters, theory alone will rarely suffice.”

I do have some practical experience as well.” Hot blood rushed to Gillian’s cheeks, though her voice remained steady. “I’m no virgin—Amelia.”

Oh?” The brunette’s slender fingers toyed with the lace framing her throat, before fluttering like butterflies over her concealed breasts. “I am pleased to hear that. In that case, why don’t you remove your bodice?”

There it was. Gillian had not been imagining the Director’s concupiscent interest. All at once, she understood that to be accepted into the Guild, she’d have to be brazen. She was determined to meet that challenge. 

Please visit the other authors joining today's event, and see what charities they are supporting!

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Thursday, September 23, 2021

Out today! SAVAGE (Devil’s Fury MC) by Harley Wylde - #MCRomance #AgeGapRomance #Suspense @HarleyW_Writer

Savage cover

Mariah -- I knew my dad, a Dixie Reaper, wouldn’t understand why I wanted to date a cop. It’s why I’d planned to elope with Ty, until it all went so very wrong. My dad caught me, tossed me into the car, and drove me hours away to the Devil’s Fury. I didn’t know he’d already promised me to someone else. Savage. The Devil’s Fury MC Treasurer. A man who set butterflies loose in my stomach at first sight.

The man might have claimed me as his, but he runs every time we’re in the same room together. I can’t tell if he’s just that turned off by me, or if there’s another woman. Whatever it is, he either needs to let me go, or make me his -- in all ways. I just never expected the surprise left at the gates, and the way it would make my heart break, or the fact my ex would be a lunatic. I should have known life would throw me a curveball. Or two. Nothing is ever easy.

Savage -- Claiming a woman sight unseen didn’t seem like such a bad thing. It wasn’t like I had anyone I wanted to settle down with. The fact she’s two decades younger than me might have given me pause at one point, but not anymore. Then she arrives, spitting and hissing like an angry kitten. I try to do the right thing and give her time. Except clearly that was the wrong thing to do.

I’ll make her realize she’s the only one I want, claim her in every way possible, but first… I need to take care of business. The dirty cop who preys on women and children will be taught a lesson he won’t soon forget. Should have known the daughter of a Dixie Reaper wouldn’t shy away from getting her hands dirty and wouldn’t need saving. Not sure how I got so lucky to call her mine, but I’m holding on tight to Mariah. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.

WARNING: Savage is part of the Devil’s Fury MC and contains bad language, adult situations, dark content, and violence some may find difficult to read. But there’s a guaranteed happily-ever-after, no cliffhanger, no cheating, a super cute little girl, and some adorable kittens.

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My jaw ached from grinding my teeth. I stared out the window, refusing to even look at my dad. I couldn’t believe he’d hauled me away from Tyson. Another few minutes, and we’d have been gone. I wondered who’d told. Could have been the Prospect at the gate, or any of my dad’s spies around town. I should have waited until dark. Even though I’d begged Ty to wait, he hadn’t listened.

Can’t ignore me forever,” my dad said.

Want to bet?

We crossed the Alabama state line and entered Florida. He hadn’t said exactly where we were going. Devil’s Boneyard? They weren’t far from our current location. I wanted to ask. Pressing my lips together, I forced myself to remain silent.

Fine. Pout like a damn kid, Mariah, but it’s not going to change anything. Settle in. We still have a bit of a drive.”

I looked over at him. What the hell did that mean? The Devil’s Boneyard was only another hour, if that. So where were we going? When he took the ramp to head north into Georgia, my stomach knotted. Oh, shit.

We’re going to see Farrah?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Nope, but same location.”

Shit. If we weren’t going to see Farrah, then who? Did my dad want my brother-in-law, Demon, to scare the hell out of me? Because it wouldn’t be hard. Just being in his presence was enough to make me pee myself. I knew he doted on my sister, but it didn’t change his scare factor. I’d heard the stories of what he’d done when people crossed him or the Devil’s Fury.

I tried not to fidget as the truck ate up the miles. My nerves were shot by the time we arrived. Expecting my dad to stop at Farrah’s or even the clubhouse, I couldn’t hold back my gasp as he kept going. Bile rose in my throat, and I scanned the area, not having a damn clue whose house we’d be visiting. The fact he’d packed my clothes and a box of my books didn’t bode well for this being a quick stop.

Since my dad had taken my phone, I couldn’t even text Ty to let him know my current location. I knew he’d have come for me. We may not have made our flight today, but we could have gotten another one.

We came to a stop outside a sprawling home. It might have only been one-story, but I could tell it was far from small inside. I got out and stood by the truck, not knowing what to expect. The front door opened and when I saw the large man who strolled out to meet us, my stomach flipped.

You made good time,” Savage said, holding his hand out to my dad.

Needed to get her out of there immediately. Caught her trying to run off with the cop.” My dad glared at me. “Nothing to say, Mariah?”

Why am I here?” I asked.

Savage’s eyebrows rose and he rocked back on his feet. “Damn. I’m guessing this is a conversation we should have inside. Y’all come in. Need me to get anything from the truck?”

I threw a box of her books in the back seat, and she has a bag of clothes. I can send the rest in a few days.” My dad started walking to the house. “Getting old’s a bitch. I’m using your bathroom.”

Savage snickered.

My dad tossed a phone at him. “That’s hers. She can have it back, but I’m not giving it to her. She may call that shithead cop.”

Savage caught the phone, looked at it a moment, then handed it to me. “No calls or texts until we talk. Don’t make me regret letting you have that back.”

He opened the back door of the truck and hauled my stuff out like it didn’t weigh anything. I had no choice but to follow him into the house. He set my things down inside the door and motioned for me to have a seat in the living room. Gray slate floors stretched in every direction, and the light gray walls added to the drab color scheme.

I sank onto a black leather sofa and eyed the unusual coffee table. It had to be custom-made. The base looked like a large cut tree trunk. Etched into the top were the colors for the Devil’s Fury, and a piece of glass set over the top, cut to match the edges. I hadn’t ever seen anything like it. The wood had been distressed or stained to a dark charcoal.

To my left, a flat screen TV hung from the wall. It had to be at least sixty inches or more. Across from the couch and table were two chairs, and a smaller table set between the two. An ottoman sat catty-corner to one of them, and I figured it must be where Savage usually sat. The chair looked more worn than the other one.

My dad entered the room, his arms folded, and he glared at me. I narrowed my eyes right back and waited to see why he’d brought me here.

What did you mean you caught her trying to leave with the cop?” Savage asked, sinking into one of two leather chairs, the one I’d thought would be his. He sprawled, reminding me of a big jungle cat.

Ty and I are getting married,” I said.

Savage tensed. “That right?”

I didn’t tell her,” Dad said. “I should have, but I was biding my time.”

Savage arched an eyebrow. “That worked out well, didn’t it?”

The look they shared told me something was up. Why had my dad brought me here? What had he kept from me?

Tell me what?” I asked.

Casper VanHorne arranged for Savage to claim you as his old lady. You’re already promised to him, Mariah, so you can’t marry the damn cop.”


Advance Reviews

Savage has left me speechless! This book is just WOW! Savage and Mariah's journey is complete breathtaking once they get it together and become a couple.” – G, Goodreads

A whirl wind of emotions, sweet, heartwarming and romantic story of two people who are clearly meant to be together… These two will make your heart go pitter patter, have tears in your eyes and leave you wanting more.” – Andrea, Goodreads

Savage and Mariah were not what I expected but they were as wonderful as I expected. Harley Wylde knocked this one out of the park I didn't expect the twists and turns.” – omgkandykane, BookBub

Harley Wylde continues to up her game with these amazing alpha men! Savage just knocked them all down a notch and has now become my favorite!” – Shelby, BookBub

About the Author

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil's Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley's writing, her motto is the hotter the better -- off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can't deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you've come to the right place. She doesn't shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.

The times Harley isn't writing, she's thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She's also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980's, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990's to today, even though she'd much rather be reading or writing.

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you're there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!

Harley Online:

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Tuesday, September 21, 2021

Sign up for Charity Sunday - September 26th! #Altruism #AmWriting #CharitySundaySignup

Desert Moon

Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay

This coming Sunday, the 26th of September, is Charity Sunday.

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers.

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog.

For more detailed instructions, go here:

You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out
my last Charity Sunday post