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Spotlight on Mia Epsilon

And the final Breathless Press spotlight of 2014 is Mia Epsilon and her new book When You Believe. Welcome!

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Dan and Monica’s relationship gets a push from a handsome stranger, but will their love survive the test?

Monica has deep roots in the small town of Abbeville and manages the local coffee shop, which serves as the hub of town news. Deeply in love with Daniel, she still can’t help but notice the gorgeous stranger, Michael, who seemingly appears out of nowhere. When Dan begins to pull away from her, what’s a girl to do? Tempted to sit home and cry, Monica is determined to push through the uncertainty. Does that mean exploring new options?

Daniel carries secrets he can’t share with anyone, even Monica. He’s a man with no past and no relatives, so he doesn’t believe he deserves a bright future. He is certain pulling away from Monica, his love and the closest thing he has to a family, is the only way she can truly find happiness. But when tragedy strikes Abbeville, will the man with no roots become its savior? Or will he discover Michael’s true reason for appearing among them?

 

EXCERPT:

“Am I interrupting something?” Dan came in the door and stood just inside, his expression confused. “Is everything okay?”

“No. Amber is convinced Michael is some assassin here to kill someone for Jamie Manning who’s part of the Irish mafia.” She pointed at Dan as he burst into laughter and glared at Amber. “There. See how ridiculous you’re being?”

“Oh, that’s too funny. Adam and Emily would get such a kick out of that. I bet Chief Owens would, too.” Dan bent over as he continued to laugh. “Come on, that’s too silly to be real.”

“Well, okay, so maybe it is.” Amber conceded with a hard note in her tone. “But you have to admit the guy is weird and freaky things happen around him.”

Dan straightened and walked over to put an arm around Monica’s shoulders. “He is, I agree. But he’s no killer. He grabbed the Marley kid out of the street a few weeks back. And Monica told me how he saved Anna from falling right before she gave birth to the twins. No assassin does nice things like that.”

“So what’s his last name? And where is he staying?” Amber demanded. “I’m going to find out before something really bad happens. Then you two will have to eat your words.” She stomped off to the back room, shoulders and spine stiff straight.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Mia Epsilon lives with her ever patient and tolerant soul mate hubby in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, USA. She’s an avid reader of almost anything but particularly romance, with too many favorite authors to name. Mia is a huge Doctor Who fan, isn’t so certain about the writing in the new series yet absolutely adores the new Doctor and his Scottish accent. She also happily suffers a chocolate addiction, which causes her to visit her favorite chocolate store, The Chocolate Fetish an abnormally high number of times.

Mia can most often be found at her computer spinning new tales or in a quiet padded nook (a nook, she swears, not a padded room) with her e reader happily engrossed in a new story. She’s currently hard at work on her series “Weddings by C & C” and trying to build its reputation from “just another wedding story” to “OMG you have got to read this book!” She appreciates all reader input and comments on her Face Book, Twitter, Amazon and Good Reads pages. Her released titles include: Wedding Belle Blues, Take a Chance on Me, When You Believe, and That Night, along with a short story in The Wonderland Tales, Leave Your Hat On.

Connect with Mia and Buy Links:

Blog: Authors, Books & Chocolate: The True ABC’s of Life miaepsilon.blogspot.com

Face Book: MiaEwrites (Mia Epsilon Author)

Twitter: Mia Epsilon @MiaEpsilon

Breathless Press home page: www.breathlesspress.com: Mia Epsilon

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=15&products_id=582&zenid=21617d34fb685eb3713c0c23496255b3

Amazon: Amazon.com/author/miaepsilon: http://www.amazon.com/Mia-Epsilon/e/B00DQ61FRM

Good Reads: Mia Epsilon https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/14292463-mia-epsilon

Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/mia-epsilon

All Romance ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html

Spotlight on Erzabet Bishop

The first Breathless Press spotlight today is author Erzabet Bishop, and her new book Holidays in Hell. Welcome!

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Deck the halls with all things kinky. Jonas is an incubus with an incurable lust for gingerbread and holiday lights. When he finds himself falling for Holly Pendleton, the woman he has marked as the final soul to end his contract, he faces a heart wrenching decision: take what he needs to feed his hunger or sacrifice himself for the woman who has lit his own demonic soul on fire. Tied up with red ribbons, Holly just might be Jonas’s deepest Christmas wish and the one woman who could set him free.

Excerpt:

“It’s twisted.” Mallory sniped, her tone coolly disapproving. Grabbing Jonas by the arm, they trudged down the main street of the Old Towne shopping district, dodging tourists and rabid consumers on a mission.

“What?”

“You’ve lost your mind completely. Here? At a shopping mall? Seriously?”

“Why not? It’s not like they’ll even notice.” Jonas glanced in Mallory’s direction and stared after the white coat of a woman he’d just seen in the crowd. It was strange, but it almost seemed like she was following them. Jonas didn’t care. He stuffed the panic down and resumed his vigil. Somewhere out there was his last conquest. He just had to find her.

Holiday music piped through the air and the smell of chestnuts roasting wafted toward the crowd. The Carver Hills Old Towne Winter Carnival was in full force and it warmed Jonas’s soul to see it. Throwing caution to the wind, he let out another burst of energy and sent it spiraling into the crowd. What could it hurt? He was here on a shopping expedition of his own, and it wasn’t for the latest transforming doll or gadget. Nope. Lust was his mission. He was hungry.

“Because…” Mallory’s voice trailed off as she patted the squirming dog in her purse. Terrance yipped and gave an indignant growl. Stuffed into a red sweater, the little black Chihuahua looked absolutely miserable.

“Oh my God, Jonas. Why do you have to always pick the toughest crowd? It’s a needle in a haystack.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion. I, for one, am going to check things out and find something, or someone, to eat.” Jonas’s lips curved up in a smile at Mallory’s irritated and completely unladylike snort.

“Mallory, if I want a cheeseburger I’ll go to a drive-through. I want something a little more substantial. And that means I’m going to have to work for it, okay?”

She stared at him, a mutinous look on her face. Terrance yipped and she reached down absently to pet him. He shook, trying to curl himself into a ball inside Mallory’s large gold purse but having a hard time.

“You’d better get him in out of the cold. The little guy’s shaking like a leaf.”

“He’s fine,” she snapped.

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when his little bladder decides it’s time to void all over your cell.”

“Ugh! Jonas. That’s disgusting. Terrence wouldn’t do that, would you, honey?” Mallory reached down and gave the dog a kiss on the top of his smooth black head.

The dog whined and shook.

“Go on, Mal. I’ll be fine.” Please. So I can get down to business.

He knew what he wanted. Lust was, after all, his personal vice of the seven deadlies. It really didn’t matter the form. It was usually sex that got people into trouble, but any old lust would do. And right now, he wanted to indulge in a little proclivity of his own. If Mallory would leave him the hell alone, that is. The need was there and it was clawing at his gut relentlessly. But so was the desire to revel in the holidays. If things went badly, it would be his last ride on the bus, so to speak. He didn’t want to miss a thing.

This was his most favorite time of year. Christmas. Twinkling lights. Tacky reindeer yard ornaments. Tinsel. Garlands. Ah, the things you could do with a garland. A little tricky rope work and a willing partner and you had yourself your own little bondage Christmas carol. A happy smile tilted up the corner of his mouth. It was funny as Hell, really. A lust demon with a fetish for Christmas ornaments.

Erzabet Bishop Author Pic

About the author:

Erzabet Bishop has been crafting stories since she could pound keys on her parents’ old typewriter. She has only just learned that it is a whole lot more fun writing naughty books.

Although she is new to Breathless Press, she is a contributing author to several websites and magazines and has an extremely impressive backlist of more than 50 books, articles and short stories and was also a finalist for the GCLS 2014 awards in two separate categories. She will be releasing several new titles through Breathless Press in the coming months.

 

She lives in Texas with her husband and furry children, and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects, and watch monster movies.

When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop.

Links:

The Romance Reviews: http://www.theromancereviews.com/100004193823883

Wix (website and newsletter sign up): http://erzabetwrites.wix.com/erzabetbishop

Are: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Erzabet+Bishop

About Me: http://about.me/erzabet.bishop/#

Facebook “like” page: https://www.facebook.com/erzabetbishopauthor

Author WordPress blog: http://erzabetbishop.wordpress.com/

Amazon author page: http:// amazon.com/author/erzabetbishop/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6590718.Erzabet_Bishop

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/erzabet.bishop

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/erzabetbishop/

Lesfic Blog: http://lesficandlipstick.wordpress.com/

Review Blog: http://erzabetsenchantments.blogspot.com/

Author Database: http://authorsdb.com/authors-directory/2690-erzabet-bishop

Spotlight on Pelaam

For the second Breathless Press spotlight today, I’m welcoming back author Pelaam, with her new Christmas book, A Touch of the Heart.

 

Christmas—a time for Santa, elves, and angels. But they don’t exist. Or do they? Alex is about to find out.

Alex loves making Christmas special for the customers who visit his shop, despite his own sadness and loneliness. He employs Michael as his store Santa, and when a young would-be shoplifter, Jackson, is caught, he’s persuaded by Michael to give him a chance. To Alex’s surprise, he’s attracted to Jackson, but he really has no idea how to deal with it.

Will Alex get a touch of the heart from an angel to help him find the love he deserves?

EXCERPT:

Heading downstairs on Michael’s heels, Alex ignored the curious glances of the gathered crowd. The guard had taken the young man over to Jayne, his senior till operator. The pinched and sour look on Jayne’s face told Alex she, too, had become judge, juror, and executer in regards to the would-be shoplifter. She met Alex’s gaze squarely as he approached.

“It’s all right. Everything’s under control. I’ve told security to call the police. He probably wanted to sell the scarf to get money for drink or drugs.”

An inner voice told Alex that wasn’t the case. Yes, the man had piercings, and tattoos, but that was no reason to make such a sweeping judgment. Especially in front of onlookers. The guilt and sadness in the young man’s eyes were unmissable. This was no seasoned thief. His skin was pale, but blemish-free, and he didn’t strike Alex as someone who did drugs.

Stepping between the guard and Jayne, Alex held up his hand. “Don’t call the police just yet. I haven’t decided whether I need them or not. What’s the story here, Max?”

“Seems this feller thought he didn’t need to pay like everyone else.” The guard shook the young man’s arm. “Spotted him slipping a scarf inside his jacket. Are you sure you don’t want me to call the police? This lady did.” Max indicated Jayne, who glowered at the young man.

“It would teach him a good lesson to be locked up.” Jayne sniffed loudly.

Instinctively, Alex felt certain that was far from the truth. He shook his head. “Not now. Thank you for spotting what happened, Max, but I’d like to speak to him in my office.”

“I’ll hang around.” Max glared at the man as Michael and the would-be shoplifter headed toward the stairs.

“Don’t let him fool you with some sob story,” Jayne called out.

“That won’t be necessary. I can call the police if needed.” Alex glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to see Jayne, the guard, and a few customers huddled around the till. He shook his head.

Once in his office, Alex sat at his desk with Michael and the stranger opposite him, seated next to each other. He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell us your name to start with?”

“Look, I did it. Just call the cops and get this over, okay? I knew my luck would run out eventually. Don’t drag it out.” The young man’s green-eyed gaze was filled with defeat, and his voice was world-weary. Alex’s heart ached at the despondent tone.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Living in clean, green New Zealand, Pelaam is a best-selling, multipublished author of gay romance and erotic books. When not busy writing, she can be found indulging in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation.

Pelaam’s book Breath of the Feathered Serpent is a finalist for the 2014 Rainbow Awards in Gay Futuristic/Sci-fi and has been given an Honorable Mention. Bedazzled and Firebird were a combined finalist for the Rainbow Awards in Gay Futuristic/sci-fi 2013.

Facebook:

Pamela Pelaam-One

E-mail:

pelaam@hotmail.com

Spotlight on Ivy Bateman

Today’s first Breathless Press spotlight is on author Ivy Bateman and her new book The Art of Falling Forever. Welcome!

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A chaste kiss on the cheek leads to the discovery of a lifetime.

Even though Eilam has always been part of her world, Amy never thought of him as more than her mother’s friend. One night, after rehearsal for the town’s Christmas Pageant, Eilam reveals that not only is there more to him than Amy had ever imagined, but that together they could be the next chapter in a story that has played out in her family for over 2000 years.

While struggling to cope with the death of her mother and the responsibility of being in charge of the biggest even of the year, Amy must decide whether her future lies with her estranged boyfriend Troy or the enigmatic Eilam.

EXCERPT:

The doorbell chimed, causing Amy to nearly jump out of her skin. She glanced at the clock. It was almost five, which meant that it could only be Eilam and he was now the last person she wanted to see. Tracy demanding she explain her new attitude, Troy begging her to take him back—either scenario would have been preferable to what waited for her on the other side of her front door.

The bell chimed again, followed by insistent knocking. “Amara, I know you’re in there. If you don’t open the door I will be forced to break it down which, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, would blow my cover.”

Amy smiled a little. He somehow knew that she’d discovered the truth. She remembered his voice on the phone, his suspicious tone. He must have guessed or known she would soon be on a path of discovery. But how? She touched her cheek. Of course, the kiss.

“Please let me in. There’s so much you need to know.”

Amy pushed herself to standing, taking the box of secrets with her. She placed it on the table in the living room and then went to the front door. She opened it, slowly and cautiously, blocking Eilam’s immediate entry with her body.

“Amara, please don’t be afraid.”

“Why not? You give me so much to be afraid of, being a shapeshifter, or whatever it is you are, who haunts the women in my family. I think you should go.”

“No, I’m not going to go. Not until you’ve given me a chance to explain myself. I don’t mean to be firm with you, but please let me in.”

Amy looked at his beaten fedora, his crinkled coat, his bright blue eyes, and his wispy white eyebrows. There was nothing malicious in his demeanor and yet he was changed. He seemed older in a seen a lot of time kind of way, and stronger too. She couldn’t help feeling he was now a stranger, but Amy had to trust her mother would not let her be in the presence of a madman.

 

AUTHOR BIO:

When she was just nine, this girl began her journey for a life on the stage. Attempts were made, classes were taken, lessons were well learned but, at the end of the day, a decision to live life off the stage was made. But all was not lost. While at college she met the love of her life and his support and strength has helped her to see that she has talent waiting around many corners.

When the stage beckons, she answers its call, and her new passion for writing has enhanced many of her theatre dreams and as well as the occasional book, she now occasionally writes a play.

The love of her life generously reads everything she writes and although he may not always be her muse, he is always her biggest fan.

The Art of Falling Forever is Ivy’s sixth release with Breathless press. Between the Lines, Ivy’s first Breathless Press release was released in January, 2012. This was followed by The Fifth Story in September, 2012, Baby, You’re Cold Inside in December, 2012, Christmas Eve Surprise in December, 2013 and I’ll Call You Alice in August, 2014 that was released on its and as part of the anthology Wonderland Tales.

Ivy Bateman’s Links:

Ivy’s books are available from the Breathless Press Website

Ivy’s Blog: http://ivybmisbehavin.blogspot.com/

Or follow Ivy on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/IvyBateman

Or drop Ivy a line at:

ivybmisbehavin@gmail.com

Spotlight on Pelaam

Today’s second Breathless Press spotlight is on author Pelaam and her new release Horse of Bells. Welcome!

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A legendary horse, magic, and a man shrouded in mystery. Who can he trust? Caolan risks both his heart and his life to uncover the truth.

When his life is saved by a stranger, Prince Caolan feels an immediate connection to the man, and promises to meet him again. Forced to break that promise to protect his brother Donal, Caolan waits for the day he can return to the forest.

On their trip home, almost a year later, he and Donal are tricked by their step-mother into attempting to steal the legendary Horse of Bells from the infamous Dark Prince Tuathal. Honor-bound to accept the geis she set them, the brothers leave their castle to complete the quest.

During their journey, they meet the enigmatic Traveler. Caolan is confused and troubled by his reaction to the man. Is he a friend, or are his intentions darker and more deadly?

EXCERPT:

The morning came without further event, and Caolan consigned his fear to simple nervousness regarding his brother’s challenge. They rebuilt the fire and set some water to boil while they washed at the stream. Laughing together, they returned to their camp and stopped abruptly. A stranger sat at their fire, roasting a couple of skinned rabbits as if he had been expected for breakfast.

Caolan stared at him. He felt as if he should know the man, and yet he knew no one with such unruly sandy-brown hair. The newcomer’s beard seemed better maintained; it was but a light coating of slightly redder hair. He couldn’t stop his blush as the man’s gaze locked with his as if he had been caught. They were the same frigid blue-grey the sea had been the day they had left for the Isles—cold, uninviting, and daunting.

“If I were a spy for the dark prince, I would by now be on my way there, laughing at how two young idiots were going to walk straight into the arms of waiting soldiers the minute they set foot in Prince Tuathal’s kingdom. It would probably be the only thing that would save you from his wrath, to know that you sat and openly discussed an attempt to steal the Horse of Bells.”

“Then you are clearly not a spy.” Caolan observed.

“Bravo. You have a modicum of brains to offset your beauty,” the stranger retorted.

The words, cold as the look in the man’s eyes, would normally have made Caolan bristle with anger. However he found himself inexplicably wishing the stranger was less hostile toward him.

“What do you want?” Donal asked. Caolan recognized the brusque, assertive tones as his brother sought to take control of the situation.

“I would travel with you. These are lonely and dangerous parts. I gain company and you gain someone well-versed in the treacherous swampland through which you must pass.” The stranger spoke as if his offer was the most natural thing in the world.

“I cannot believe you would do so out of generosity.” Caolan felt unable to resist the jibe.

“That surprises me not,” the stranger countered. “Perhaps our hearts are alike. For payment…” He paused as if considering what would be suitable, yet Caolan was certain the man already knew exactly what he wanted. “Payment will be my asking the truth of you on your honor at a time of my own choosing.”

Caolan stood and stared with his mouth open but unable to formulate a reply. As if from a distance he heard Donal answer for him.

“It’s agreed.” Donal winked at him, but Caolan was certain there would be no way of telling a falsehood to this man.

“Good. Then let us break our fast. I already know your names. You may call me Traveler,” he said.

With a sinking heart Caolan sat next to Donal and accepted a plate holding a generous piece of roasted rabbit.

While his brother sat and ate his serving with gusto, Caolan’s attention was more focused on the man who now sat with his head bowed. He knew he’d never seen Traveler before, and yet there was a familiarity that made Caolan ill at ease. A niggling feeling, that Traveler was more than he seemed, made Caolan’s stomach twist into knots. Who are you really, and why do you make me feel I should know you?

 

BIO:

Pelaam lives in clean, green New Zealand. She is a multi-published author of gay male romance and erotica across time and space. When not writing, she indulges in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation. She can be found on Facebook, and a full list of her published works are on Lazy Beagle Entertainment.

Spotlight on Carolyn LaRoche

Today’s first Breathless Press spotlight is on author Carolyn LaRoche and her new book Witness Protection. Welcome!

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Someone wants Angelina dead…again. Will following her heart put her in danger, or in the arms of the man she’s meant to be with?

As far as the world knows, NYPD detective Angelina Ferrara died in a violent firefight on Chelsea Piers over a year ago. Living in the witness protection program as history teacher Lucy Taylor was supposed to save her life, but being alive and living were two very different things. Until she meets Detective Logan James when he goes undercover in the same private school where she works. Something about the handsome man with the gorgeous blue eyes piques her interest. There’s no doubt he has secrets…but then so does she. When the Ricci crime family discovers she’s still alive, she finds herself on the run with Logan. Her heart led her astray before. Can she trust it to let Logan help her survive?

EXCERPT:

Her little car had an engine about as powerful as a hamster wheel. There was no way she was going to outrun the truck that was accelerating with lightning speed. On one side of her was a deep ravine, the other the steep slope of a mountain towered high and tree covered. The steering wheel vibrated as she pushed her little car to its limits, sheer adrenaline keeping her focused on the winding road. As she rounded a sharp curve, the back tires spun and fishtailed out from behind her. The tiny car shook violently as Lucy struggled to maintain control. The SUV caught up with her then, ramming into her rear bumper. The car groaned but held on. Lucy spun the wheel to make the next sharp curve, all the while her eyes searched for a way off the dangerous mountain highway. Another crash from behind jolted her car forward with such force Lucy lost her grip on the steering wheel. The car veered right but she managed to straighten it out before hitting the tree line.

“What the hell do you want with me?” she screamed at the truck in her rearview mirror.

The driver responded by slamming into the back of her car again. Metal ground against metal, gravel flew everywhere, and the car careened toward a thick bank of trees to her left. Straightening the car once more, Lucy crushed the gas pedal to the floor and watched as the speedometer climbed quickly. Lucy felt the little rush of excitement she always got in a good pursuit despite the fact that she was the one being pursued.

She whipped around yet another curve, and the SUV caught up with her. Just as she managed to get her little car under control again, the SUV crashed into her back end again with such force Lucy thought her car might shatter there in the middle of the road. The little car veered to the right, aiming straight for the side of the road and the ravine beyond. Lucy tried to regain control but the effort was in vain. She braced herself as the car plowed through thick vegetation, hit something, and started to slide down the steep embankment.

She heard the growl of the SUV’s engine roaring away over the revving of her own engine as the tiny car crashed through the underbrush. The car flew over a log and landed on the slick vegetation covering the incline. The car lost its hold on the ground and rolled its way down the slope, finally landing up against the trunk of a large pine tree where the engine died. Lucy’s head smacked against the steering wheel knocking her near to senseless. Everything fell deathly silent as she fought to remain conscious.

A loud crack broke the silence. As she watched through the broken windshield, the tree in front of her began to wobble. Blood trailed from her forehead into her left eye, blurring her already shaky vision. Rubbing at it with the back of her arm, she used her other hand to desperately claw at the seat belt release.

If she didn’t get out of the car, the tree was going to fall right on top of her.

The giant pine swayed once and then began its descent toward Lucy and her crumpled car. Yanking hard at the jammed seat belt, her head swimming and her stomach churning, Lucy finally freed herself. Just as the tree crushed the roof of her car, like it were nothing more than a tin can, Lucy pulled her body through the opening that used to be the driver’s side window.

Cracking wood and crunching metal stirred up a cacophony of birds and small animals protesting the intrusion in their habitat. Lucy lay on the damp moss and rotting leaves, her heart banging against her chest wall. The sound of her pulse racing in her ears muted the sound of the creaks and groans as the tree settled against what was left of her car. Every inch of her body hurt, but her head ached most of all.

 

Carolyn LaRoche Author picture

 

Carolyn LaRoche grew up in snow country but fled the cold and ice several years ago. She now lives near the beach with her husband, their two boys, two finicky cats, and one old dog. When she is not at the baseball field cheering on big hits and home runs, she is busy teaching science to unwilling teenagers. She is co-author of the book The Crazy Lives of Police Wives and hangs out online at both Carolyn La Roche – Author and The Crazy Lives of Police Wives.

She also writes a blog titled Boys, Badges and Writers Block about the joys and challenges of raising boys and living the law enforcement wife life found at http://boysbadgeswritersblock.blogspot.com/

You can also find her and her books at:

Social and Buy Links

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorCarolynLaRoche?ref=hl

www.carolynlarocheauthor.blogspot.com

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=26&products_id=694&zenid=0a2cd36645d80576b8bcbd8b9ea4f716

http://www.amazon.com/Witness-Protection-Defenders-Love-Book-ebook/dp/B00P5N8MRU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1415565480&sr=8-1&keywords=witness+protection+carolyn+laroche

Spotlight on Mia Epsilon

Today’s second Breathless Press spotlight is on author Mia Epsilon and her new book That Night. Welcome!

That Night 600x900

 

What do you get when you have two best friends who happen to be roommates stewing in sexual tension? A night they will never forget.

Anna and Robin are college roommates and best friends. Even though the chemistry sizzles between them, they have remained platonic for over three years. One night will change everything.

Robin has struggled to repress his feelings for Anna. He seeks out brief and meaningless relationships with the women on campus, who flock to his charm, flashing blue eyes, and bad-boy appearance. But Robin can’t get Anna off his mind or out of his heart.

Anna has watched Robin move from one woman to the next, never settling for any. She keeps up the pretense of friends-only while secretly longing to be the woman to tame him. The combination of college demands, a failed date, and simmering sexual frustration explodes into a night of passionate need. But when it’s over…what happens then?

EXCERPT:

Why do I keep putting myself through this? Robin Bates paused in the stairwell to tap his head on the wall. What kind of an idiot kept up this charade for so long? He should just tell her. Why couldn’t he just tell her? It was simple, really. He stomped up the last flight of steps and down the hall to their room. All he had to do was say the words and accept the fall out. He opened the door, took a deep breath, and spoke. “Anna, there’s something I need to tell you.”

The small lamp on the bedside table glowed in the semi darkness. Books and crumpled papers lay tossed around her on the tangled sheet and blanket of the bed. Her lap top perched at an angle, half on and half off the pillows. Stats, Robin saw, her least favorite subject and the only one she struggled to master. He had made a promise to help Anna with the latest assignment and had gone on the disaster date from hell instead. His gaze followed the line of her bare legs. She said they weren’t perfect; he said they were. Sure, they didn’t look like they went on forever. Who wanted legs up to a woman’s neck anyway when there were so many other good things in between? Anna’s legs, long, lean, strong, and just a bit golden from their recent holiday trip to visit her folks in Hawaii made his mouth water.

Robin groaned as his gaze trailed higher. She wore the same blue nightshirt he’d seen her wear a thousand times. Thin from numerous washings, all but transparent, it rode high on thighs he’d give his right arm to caress, which made no sense, because without his arm he’d never be able to— Anna whispered something and shifted a bit, her thighs parting slightly. He felt actual pain as the cotton rode a bit higher and all the blood surged to one particular part of his body. Did she have on those cute little smiley face panties? Or did she wear the ones with the little bows? She usually only chose her silk ones for special occasions like parties.

“Jesus, get a grip on yourself.” Robin ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve not perving my best friend while she sleeps. I’m not so desperate. Yet.”

 

AUTHOR BIO:

Mia Epsilon lives with her enduring soul mate hubby in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina, USA. She’s an avid reader of almost anything but particularly romance. She also is a never-miss-an-episode viewer of Doctor Who and Sherlock, and happily suffers coffee and chocolate addictions. She can most often be found at her computer, spinning new stories, or in a quiet padded nook with her e reader. She considers Facebook both the boom and bane of her existence. Mia loves to hear from readers and maintains a mostly current blog at miaepsilon.blogspot.com and a Facebook page under the name MiaEwrites.

Blog: Authors, Books & Chocolate: The True ABC’s of Life miaepsilon.blogspot.com

Facebook: MiaEwrites (Mia Epsilon Author)

Twitter: Mia Epsilon @MiaEpsilon

Breathless Press home page: www.breathlesspress.com: Mia Epsilon

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=15&products_id=582&zenid=21617d34fb685eb3713c0c23496255b3

Amazon.com/author/miaepsilon: http://www.amazon.com/Mia-Epsilon/e/B00DQ61FRM

Good Reads: Mia Epsilon https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/14292463-mia-epsilon

Bookstrand:

http://www.bookstrand.com/wedding-belle-blues

All Romance ebooks:

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-weddingbelleblues-1546867-177.html?referrer=5148b13c78ae0

Spotlight on J.M. Powers

Today’s first Breathless Press spotlight is on author J.M. Powers and her new book Jewel of Ramstone. Welcome!

JewelofRamstone_200x300

 

A maiden, unable to recall who she is, must battle evil to regain the memory of her past and the hope of a future.

Awaking in the forest, a young maiden recalls naught—including her name. Equally conflicting is her desire to both slap and kiss Sir Galeron, the knight who claims to have protected her while she was unconscious. Much to her chagrin, he dubs her “Ruby of the Forest” due to her red hair, and insists she find refuge at his home of Ramstone. Prickling at his demanding ways, but with no other option, she accepts his offer. And although his kiss flames her attraction even more, Galeron dashes it with a confession. The brute is trothed to another.

Ruby’s journey is filled with laughter and weeping, daydreams and discovered abilities. But never does she feel complete. Her heart longs for a future that her past may destroy. Evil lurks, treading on each tidbit of memory she recovers. Will Ruby ever recall her past? And after an attack in the village that sparks a horrific nightmare, does she even want to?

EXCERPT:

“Ask me anything. Mayhap I can help.” His deep voice broke the silence.

How was he to help? “Pray tell, how did we come to share the forest?”

“I shall explain.” He bent and picked up a twig, then proceeded to peel the bark off. With each curl he tossed aside, she grew more frustrated.

‘Twas better to allow mistrust. Stand strong. She gasped. Unexpected, the thought rang with such clarity, it seemed someone else had spoken. “Perchance you should be honest. Did you drug me? Spell me?”

He tossed the twig aside. Though his eyes remained on her face, her whole body felt his scrutiny. “‘Twould do you well to hold your tongue.”

“I am beginning to dislike you,” she said, knowing full well the opposite was true. She truly wished her insides would cease…prickling? And her head. Damn, it ached so. Tingles and pain aside, she tried to focus. “Do you intend to explain or not?”

“I seek a means to tell you gently.”

With a slight shrug, she said, “No need for gentleness. You already tossed me about.” She grinned despite the truth in her statement.

He sighed. “It appears you are lost.”

“God’s eyes, knight!” She shook her head. “You must be a great sorcerer to possess such insight.”

“Your tongue shall be your undoing. Best you still it.”

Twice he attempted to stifle her. She clenched her teeth. “Still it?”

Galeron’s jaw twitched and she wondered if he were quelling a smile. “I found you here in the woodlands. I did not hold you captive, drug you, or harm you.” He blinked slowly. “Hold to that.”

She nodded. “Forgive—”

“Nay need. I understand. You now stand a day’s ride from Ramstone. Have you heard of it?”

He pushed off the tree and came to sit beside her, his thigh nearly touching her own. Nearly. It took a moment for her answer. “Nay, I do not recall Ramstone.” The fact she did not recall much of anything choked off the rest of her response.

“Odd,” he said, more to himself than her.

Sighing, she realized how badly her masquerade of bravery was faltering. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand come toward her. Surprised at the urge to lean into his touch, she remained still and allowed him to brush back the wisps of hair from her brow. His hand lowered in a fist, yet his voice was laced with tenderness.

“It pains me that I cannot give you answers.” His gaze strayed from her face, lowering to her neck.

Covering the neckline of her tunic with both hands, she glared at him. “Focus elsewhere.” He sees me as a woman after all. She dashed the thought away. Almost.

“I intend nay disrespect. The bruising on your neck concerns me.” Gently brushing her hand aside, he took a closer look. “Fingerprints.”

It took all she had not to cry out. Who harmed her?

“When we discovered you, there was nay sign of anyone else.”

She glanced around. “We?”

“I sent my men home.”

She blinked. Then blinked again. “Your men.”

“My brother, a healer, assured me your wounds were not serious, so I decided to wait—”

She put up her hand. “Why not leave me under the care of your healer? Or leave me in the nearest village?”

He swallowed hard. “It matters not! Are you always so…so…inquisitive?”

Ah, this man was not used to being questioned. She tried to ease his surly mood. “A shame your men were sent on their way. No one laid witness when I kicked you and bashed your comely face before you so unceremoniously dropped a maiden to the ground.”

He blew a long breath. “You insist on repeating that. Had you dressed appropriately, I would not have thought you a lad.” His chuckle made her grin. “Although you certainly fight like a maiden.”

She swiped her hand through the air. “Carry on.”

“Carry on,” he muttered. “I fear you shall interrupt again.” He looked up through the trees, ignoring her huff. “We still had several days before reaching our destination when we found you. With that in mind, I postponed the journey and sent my men back to Ramstone.”

“I see.” She studied the frayed edge of her tunic. “How long have I been here?”

“I watched over you a single night. How long you were here remains a mystery. I was only gone a short time for I needed to boil meat into a broth to sustain you. Had I known you were a maiden, I never would have left you alone.”

Her head snapped up. “Yet you would a lad? I am not defenseless simply because I am a female.”

Galeron’s eyes hardened. “Aye, ’tis so. I returned to find you brandishing a dagger. I left it in case you awoke and felt unsafe, not to use against me.”

She ran her hands through the leaves and shrugged a silent apology, too stubborn to utter it out loud.

“Fair one?”

Damnation, she hated when he addressed her with those words, and yet it awoke something in her, for he said it with tenderness. She glared at his smiling face. “Why are you calling me that?” To her chagrin, what she’d meant as snide came out as quite curious.

He splayed his hands in question, “Would you prefer I call you lad?” Two furrows appeared on his brow at her silent glare. “Because, you have yet to give your name.”

Disarmed, she swallowed her spiteful attitude. “If I only could.” She locked away her tears, her dismay, and did her best to keep her voice steady. “I hoped you would know…would say it by now. Sir Galeron, I…I recall naught before I saw you standing before me.”

Seeming to battle with her revelation, Galeron’s expression flitted from stunned to confused. Then his gaze bore into her with such tenderness it nearly undid her. “Nay memory?” he finally whispered.

JM Powers Author Pic

 

J.M. Powers harbors an alter ego of a normal woman named Jeannie. (Her editor is still on the fence about the whole “normal” thing.) Jeannie’s proficient at research, gluten-free cooking, and embarrassing her teenagers by wearing skinny jeans to the grocery store. J.M., the author-ego, plunges so deep into her writing she forgets life outside her creations still goes on. More often than not, J.M. answers with a glassy stare when her family asks what’s for dinner. Despite the craziness between reality and the world of writing, life falls together without broken bones or hearts.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.jmpowers

Blog: http://jmpowersromance.blogspot.com/

Twitter: @jmpowersauthor

Spotlight on Brantwijn Serrah

Today’s second Breathless Press spotlight is on author Brantwijn Serrah and her new book His Cemetery Doll.

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Conall knows the angel standing in his graveyard is only a statue. After all, he carved her with his own two hands. Can she possibly be…alive?

There’s a woman in the graveyard.

Conall Mackay never put stock in ghost stories. Not even after thirteen years serving as the cemetery keeper in the village of Whitetail Knoll. But things change. Now, his daughter is dreaming of a figure among the tombstones. The grounds are overrun by dark thorns almost faster than Con can clear them. White fog and gray ribbons creep up on him in the night, and a voiceless beauty beckons him from the darkest corners of the graves.

When the world he knows starts to unravel, Conall might finally be forced to believe.

EXCERPT:

He hadn’t slept long before he heard sounds from down in the kitchen below.

“Shyla!” he called gruffly. “Weren’t you heading into town?”

No answer came from below, but the sounds of pots clanging told him his daughter toyed about down there. Perhaps she’d decided not to leave him after all and taken it into her head to now re-organize the house, since he’d so clearly wanted her to stay out of the cemetery. With a low groan, Conall rolled out of bed and stepped out into the hall.

“Shyla!” he called again, coming to the head of the stairs. If she had stayed home, she could at least do it without making a lot of noise.

“Shyla, I—”

He staggered then, as the hallway dimmed. Afternoon light flickered strangely, lightning cracking a dismal sky outside, and in the space of time afterward everything else darkened. Conall darted a glance around him as the house fell into shadow.

From the top of the stairwell, he saw the first whispering tendrils of white fog.

The heat of adrenaline shot through his limbs. Conall stumbled back into his bedroom, even as the fog pursued. His gaze shot to the window as the last gray light of day faded away and eerie darkness replaced it, like an eclipse sliding over the sun.

More cold mists veiled the glass, dancing and floating. Trembling overtook him as he spun to find another escape.

He froze, finding himself face-to-face with the broken mask of the cemetery doll.

“You—” he gasped. His breath came out white as the fog enveloped them both, leaving a space of mere inches between them, so he could still see her expressionless face. Gray ribbons wound and curled through the air around him. “Who are you?” he asked.

The doll stared up at him. He sensed her searching, looking into his eyes even though hers remained covered. She held him there with her unseen gaze, until her cool, cold hand came up to touch his bare chest.

Conall let out a low breath. He closed his eyes, and a shudder of strange ease rippled through his body. The cool pads of her fingers ran down his sternum, to his navel. The silky ribbons brushed along his side.

Then he noticed her other hand. She lifted it up, to her own chest, and she held something tightly in her fingers: Shyla’s stuffed dog.

“I made that…for my daughter,” he whispered. The woman with the broken mask tilted her head down toward the small toy, studying it. For a fraction of a second, her fingers appeared to tighten around it. She returned her gaze to him, then, and the toy fell from her grip into the fog, forgotten.

“Wait—” he said, but she brought her other hand up to his chest to join the first, and he recognized eagerness in the way she pressed her icy skin against his. Her face tilted to him, and then came her lips again, ivory and flawless.

“I—” Conall breathed. “I…don’t understand…”

Her fingers slid up, around his neck, but he pulled away.

“No, this…this can’t real. I’m asleep. I must be.”

Gray ribbons danced, pulling him back to her, and she stroked his face. He sucked in a breath at her touch and found his own hand coming up to brush hers.

“You’re so cold,” he said. “Like stone…but…”

Her cool touch thrilled him; it made his skin tingle and the heat of his own body sing. Her perfect flesh did, in fact, prove soft under his hands, as if the contact with his worn calluses infused cold ivory with yearning. She caressed his cheek, and Conall leaned into it. Before he could stop himself, he bowed his head to her and kissed her frozen lips.

Brantwijn Serrah Author Pic

 

The story of His Cemetery Doll has been waiting to be told since Brantwijn Serrah first began jotting things down in her school notebooks instead of doing her homework. Conall Mackay and his lady ghost have existed for Brantwijn, in some form or another, longer than almost any other characters she’s collected. This tale of a haunted graveyard and imprisoned beauty is, in Brantwijn’s opinion, a wonderful way to finally bring them to life.

When she isn’t visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching, painting, customizing My Little Ponies and sewing plushies for friends. She can’t handle coffee unless there’s enough cream and sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats, loves tabletop role-play games, and can spend hours watching Futurama, Claymore or Buffy the Vampire Slayer while she writes or draws.

In addition to her novels, Brantwijn has had several stories published in anthologies by Breathless Press, including the 2013 Crimson Anthology and 2014 Ravaged Anthology.  She’s also had a short story published in the Cleiss Press Big Book of Orgasm and the anthology Coming Together Through The Storm. She hopes to have several more tales to tell as time goes on.  She has author pages on GoodReads and Amazon, and loves to see reader comments on her work. Her short stories occasionally pop up at Foreplay and Fangs, her blog at http://brantwijn.blogspot.com.

Spotlight on Torie James

Welcome to another Breathless Press day! Today’s first spotlight is Torie James with her new book Point of No Return.

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Blurb

Full of seething, sensual shadows and hidden faces, the annual Masquerade Ball at Lymbo Resort is one event anyone would sell their soul for.

One night a year, impiety and temptation take center court at the invitation only event hosted by the mysterious Avan Noxturna. Decadent darkness, burning lust, and wicked intentions hide behind innocent masks in the most innocuous places.

The fires of hell may blaze hot, but the flames of passion consume common sense when obsessive memories escape to ignite an inferno of intimate bliss that will sear both saint and sinner.

***

Excerpt

She enjoyed being a highly sexual female who felt no shame in shagging a man for recreational purposes. Guys did it all the time and they were called studs. A woman with the same goal? Slut. Luckily, she didn’t much care what anyone thought. She had no desire to settle into a bullshit relationship where she lost her identity. Her mother had schooled her. She was an island and it suited her fine when the occasional ship came into port, docking on a temporary pass. A lustful interlude with a masked stranger on Halloween? Cliché. And tempting. She did have a few extra minutes.

Then he filled her vision and she grew damp under the heated gaze.

One. Quick. Fuck.

Medicinal purposes only.

He opened his mouth to speak and she shook her head. “Shh. Don’t talk. You’ll ruin it.”

Torie James author pic

Author Bio

“If you really want to read a book that hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it” ~Toni Morrison~

Torie James has loved reading since she was old enough to hold a book in her lap. While her friends were out playing, she was generally curled up nearby falling down rabbit holes, catching second stars to the right, and stepping through wardrobes into mysterious lands and countless adventures. When those stories ended, she made up her own and kept going. This later on translated into a strong passion for writing that has helped her keep her feet on the ground while her head stayed firmly in the clouds. Lover of Dr. Pepper, all things chocolate, and Duran Duran, her dreams finally became a reality with the publication of Timeless Night and Timeless Desire, Books One and Two of the award winning New Camelot Series. Slated for 3 more books in that series, she’s also currently working on The Cloie Chronicles, The Tudor Files, Avan Noxturna: Soul Broker and the Fables of Blood and Stone. Two short stories, No Change Policy in Room 8 and Reclaiming the Rabbit Hole can be found in My Bloody Valentine and Wonderland Tales, respectively, through her publisher, Breathless Press.

Torie lives in Southern California with her family and a houseful of pets who rule the roost.

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